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#peter parker drabbles
ichorai · 9 months
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particles ; peter parker.
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track eight of BROKEN MACHINE.
prequel to spiderling!
pairing ; peter parker x stark!reader (gender neutral), dad!tony x reader
synopsis ; tony gives peter the dreaded 'dad' talk.
words ; 2.8k
themes ; fluff, mild comedy
warnings / includes ; set right at the end of homecoming era & onwards, mild cursing, peter is so endearingly awkward, tony being a good dad :(
a/n ; another part is in the works to be set during the events of infinity war/endgame!
main masterlist.
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The Avengers compound was all sleek edges, clean cool-tones, and large floor-to-ceiling windows with not a speck of dust to be seen. It was an intimidating environment, to say the least. What made things worse was Mr. Stark’s hand on his shoulder and the hopeful gleam to his eyes.
The team, he had said. Tony wanted him to join the Avengers.
And with the brand new suit displayed in front of him, too… it was nearly impossible to say no.
Nearly.
When Peter stammered out a polite decline, Tony had looked at him above his lowered sunglasses, incredulous.
“You’re turning me down?” he said, heavy with disbelief. “You better think about this, kid.”
There was a long pause.
“Last chance, yes or no?”
Of course he wanted to say yes—to be in the Avengers, work with Iron Man himself… that was his dream. But he couldn’t. Someone had to look out for the little guy, right? And who better than the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?
“No,” Peter replied. 
Not at all used to being rejected, Tony struggled for words for a moment, before reluctantly accepting Peter’s decision, masking his disappointment fairly well. He liked the kid, and it wasn’t exactly fun to have him slip through his fingers like this. With a wave of his hand at Happy, he told him that he’d be driven home.
“Thank you, Mr. Stark. Truly,” Peter hastily said, certain that he’d made the right decision.
Preoccupied thinking about what he was going to tell the fifty reporters waiting behind the doors, Tony absentmindedly quipped, “Yes, uh, very well, Mr. Parker.”
Peter left with a proud grin and a skip to his step, nodding when Happy asked him to wait in the car. 
Before he could make his way out, however, a voice stopped him in his tracks.
“That was really ballsy, what you did back there,” you said, observing him with an amused expression, eyes narrowed with curiosity. Peter blinked, recognizing you almost immediately. “Not a lot of people would leave my dad hanging like that.”
With a widened stare, Peter found all the words stuck in his throat. You were much more breathtaking in person, with an intrigued air about you. Though your features took more after your mother, who’d passed away many years ago, Peter noticed that you shared Tony’s smile.
“Uh… yeah,” was all Peter could lamely say.
The subtle beam curving your lips seemed to grow wider. You hummed, soft and lilting, languidly stepping forward with a nod. “Hope to see you around then, Peter.” You took his hand, sliding a folded piece of paper into his palm. “Give me a call if you ever need anything. Or if you just need a friend to talk to, I’m all ears. It’s a private phone—my dad doesn’t know about it. He gets really uptight about me talking to strangers but… you’re not really a stranger, are you? At least, not for long.”
Shocked, Peter could only open and shut his mouth, as if he were a fish out of water. 
“I, uhm… thank you. I’ll definitely, uh, definitely take you up on that offer,” he choked out, nodding emphatically. 
You gave him a warm smile, accompanied by a two-fingered salute, and in turn, he waved goodbye, palms drenched with sweat as he hurriedly backed away to the car before Happy could yell at him. 
Cute, you thought with an amused shake of your head, before making your way back to your dad, who was still muttering under his breath about how he couldn’t believe a fifteen year old had just turned him down.
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Your phone number stared at him every day for the next week. The numbers were hastily scribbled down in blue ink, smudged ever so slightly by the crease of the fold during your rush, but you’d taken the time to draw a smiley face right beneath the last digit. It never failed to make Peter smile every time he gave it a glance. 
It took him three days to psyche himself up to even considering calling you, and another three to actually add you to your contacts, his thumb hovering over the call button far too often than he’d like to admit. On the seventh day, Peter pressed with a sharp inhale.
Three rings trilled by.
Peter wondered if you were going to pick up. He wouldn’t really be surprised if you didn’t—you were a busy person, probably, and didn’t have the time to take calls from people like him. 
Another ring. And suddenly, your voice reverberated through. Peter sat up on his bed, spine straightening as if it were an iron rod.
“Hello?”
“Y/N! Hi!” he said, voice abnormally high-pitched. He cleared his throat and nervously added, “It’s Peter. Peter Parker?”
A laugh echoed in his ear. He could picture your humored smile. “Yeah, I remember. It’s nice to hear from you—thought you’d never call.”
“You were waiting?”
“Of course, I was. I wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t want you to call.”
Warm relief surged through his veins, accompanied by a flustered coil winding within his abdomen. “Cool, cool… so, uh, I don’t want to be too forward or anything but I think you’re… so cool and uhm—” A pause. Was Peter really asking you out on an impulsive date? “Would you wanna hang out?”
On the other end of the line, you blinked in surprise, not expecting his sudden forwardness. You shifted the phone in your palm. “Right now?” It was a good thing you weren’t busy, having caught up on all your assignments and projects. Besides—you couldn’t remember the last time you properly went out into the city with someone other than Happy, Pepper, or your dad. 
“Uh… if you’re not busy, that is.”
“You know what—sure. Why the hell not?” you replied, grinning.
Peter did a double-take. “Wait—really?”
“Yes, really. I’d love to spend some time with you, Peter.”
Now it was his turn to smile, pink dusting across his cheekbones. “Great. I’ll text you where to meet, then?”
“Sure, Peter.”
After the call ended, you were quick to change into appropriate attire, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself. You donned a soft grey hoodie and baggy black jeans, slipping out of your room a few minutes later. The location Peter had sent you was a quaint little library not too far from where you lived, within a manageable walking distance. You were glad that you wouldn’t have to ask Happy to drive you, because knowing your godfather, he’d be hovering over Peter like a vulture.
Just as you were about to slip out, your tote bag slung over your shoulder, Tony popped his head out of the living room, quirking a brow.
“Hey, kid,” he cautiously greeted. “Where you goin’?”
You froze with one foot out of the door. “Library,” you answered, trying you best to appear nonchalant.
“Hm. Which library?”
With a frown marring your lips, you crossed your arms. “Jeez, dad, whichever library! I’m sure there’s, like, a dozen in a five-mile radius.”
Mirroring your attitude, Tony mimicked your squared jaw and rolled his eyes. “You know, if you wanted to hang out with that kid Peter, you could’ve just asked.”
A beat of silence. You narrowed your eyes at your dad. “How do you know about that?”
Tony let out a loud guffaw. “What? You don’t think I didn’t know you bought yourself your own phone? Are you forgetting that your pops is Tony Stark himself? God, kid, you were just like me when I was your age.” He paused at that, rethinking what he just said. “Well, actually, I was way worse.”
He strode forward, smoothing his hands down the sleeves of your hoodie and patting your shoulders. It wasn’t often that Tony was overly affectionate with you, but whenever he was, you always appreciated how genuine he would be.
After pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, he gently nudged you out the door. “Go on. Get! Scat!” He made shooing motions with his hands. “If you don’t get back by sundown, I’ll have Happy hunt you down and kill the kid town executioner style.” At your scowl, Tony was quick to tack on, “Joking! I’m joking.”
“Bye, dad,” you said huffily, though the affection in your tone was unmistakable. With that, you turned to leave, fishing out your phone to text Peter that you were on your way.
“They grow up so fast,” a voice mused from over Tony’s shoulder, welling with emotion. 
He flinched at his friend’s sudden presence, slamming the door shut. “Jesus Christ, Happy, don’t scare me like that!”
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The months flew by in a breeze. You and Peter were now exclusively dating—something that he had asked about early on in your relationship, worriedly gnawing at his bottom lip with the harrowing idea of you turning him down. But you’d been nothing but sweet with him, affectionately pressing your nose into his cheek and telling him that you’d love to be official.
You were lounging on his bed, sprawled over his dark blue comforter, which smelled of fresh laundry detergent and something else entirely Peter that you couldn’t get enough off. He was across the narrow room, hunched over his desk as he hurriedly did his physics homework due the very next day. Idly, you fiddled with the web shooters you had swiped from his bedside table, narrowing your eyes at the wrist fixings and the capsules that held his web fluid.
Only a genius could build something like this on his own, you thought fondly. I’m dating a genius.
It seemed that you had said the last bit out loud, because Peter snorted in amusement.
“Yeah, says you,” he scoffed. “You skipped, like, a dozen grades.”
“Half that, actually. Six grades.”
Peter turned to look at you over his shoulder, arching his brows. “Not to mention your dad is literally the Tony Stark.”
With a hum, you slunk off his bed and languidly draped your arms over his shoulder. “Just take the compliment, Peter,” you said as you pressed a fond kiss to a faint freckle on his cheek. Then, you glanced down at the problem he was solving. “Mmh, don’t forget the negative sign. It’s moving against gravity, no?”
“Right.” He hastily corrected the formula, glancing at you appreciatively. “Thanks.”
“No prob, I make the same mistake all the time,” you quipped. “I’ve been making my own suit with the help of my dad—had to study up a lot on rotational mechanics and material physics. It’s been a pain in the ass.”
Brows raising, Peter dropped his pencil and rotated his chair so he was facing you fully, his knees grazing yours. “What? You’re making your own suit?”
“Yeah,” you said with the beginnings of an excited smile tracing your lips. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever become an Avenger like my dad is but… I don’t know. It’s certainly an option.”
A low groan fell from Peter’s throat, and he buried his face in his palms. “You’re telling me we could’ve been in the same team together? Ugh, stop, stop, don’t make me regret turning your dad down.” 
“Oh, no, Pete, I think you made the right choice,” you quickly reassured him, tugging his wrists away from his flushed features. “We’re still young. It’s not fair to put that responsibility on our shoulders as of now.”
The brown of his irises softened. “Yeah. We’re still young,” he echoed, ducking his head to kiss your hand clutching his. “You gotta show me that suit of yours one day, though.”
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Both you and Peter were strolling around an art museum, arms linked and permanent smiles plastered over your expressions as you pointed at various paintings and sculptures. It was nearly an hour into the date when your phone began buzzing in your pocket, and you hastily let go of Peter’s arm to fish it out.
“Hello?”
“Hey, bugaroo,” Tony’s drawl came through your phone. “Where are you? I’m bored.”
A lopsided grin hung onto the corner of your lips at his words. “I’m with Peter right now.”
“Hm. You guys are behaving yourselves, I hope. You using protection?”
The grin melted off your face and you scowled. “Dad, what the fuck?”
“Hey, language!” he scolded, before chuckling dryly. “God, I’m turning into Cap. Anyways—what’re you thinking for dinner tonight? Does Chinese sound good? You wanna invite the Spider over, too?”
You glanced at Peter, who was ogling an abstract painting with a tilted head and a puzzled expression. He’d never really understood the point of this art style, but when you’d explained to him that art didn’t need to be understood to be considered art, he had grown much more lenient with his views of the chaotic splotches of paint. A small smile traced the corner of your lips as you watched his features contort with every one of his thoughts. Peter truly wore his heart on a sleeve, for everyone to see.
“Yeah, sounds great,” you said into the phone. “We’ll be home in an hour.”
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Dinner consisted of warm soup dumplings and stir-fried noodles in flimsy paper boxes.
“Mm, Mr. Stark, these are delicious. I mean, I know you didn’t cook this or anything but it’s still really good,” Peter said around a mouthful of noodles. “Thanks for, uh, inviting me over. It’s an honor, really.”
“Stop sucking up to my dad, Peter,” you snorted, sipping on some iced tea. “He already likes you.”
One of Tony’s brows raised. “When did I ever say that?” At Peter’s slightly mortified expression, Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding. Jokes, kiddo. Don’t piss yourself.”
“Speaking of piss—I’m goin’ to the powder room. Don’t fight while I’m gone,” you unabashedly said, pushing yourself away from the table. You really were your father’s child, Peter thought, mildly amused.
Tony watched you disappear behind a hallway, before fixing his gaze on Peter. The older man drummed his chopsticks by the edge of the table. 
“Listen, kid, I know we’re already way past the point of this but as a father—you gotta understand that I have to give you the talk.” It was jarring to see Tony genuinely serious for once. Peter straightened himself subconsciously. “If you ever, ever hurt Y/N, I will stick a rocket up your ass and launch you straight to the moon. Do you understand?”
Peter gulped. “Yes, sir. I got it. You can trust me. I, uh, I really do like Y/N.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“...Yes? I’m sorry, I’m confused, do you not want me to like them?”
An unsatisfied noise fell from Tony’s lips. “Eh. I mean, would I prefer Y/N never ever date anybody and stay locked in their room forever, wasting away in front of a screen? Absolutely. But if it just had to be someone… I’m glad it’s you.”
Peter blinked in surprise. “Wow, Mr. Stark. That’s… thank you. It’s a huge honor. I promise I’ll take good care of them.”
“Yeah, don’t push it, Pete. You guys are barely a decade old.”
“Am I coming off too strong?” he winced, recoiling into his chair slightly. 
The man across from him gestured to the small space between his pinched fingers. “Just a bit.”
“I’m actually fif—”
“Fifteen. I know. Y/N, too.”
There was another tense moment of silence as Tony scrutinized the young man. 
Finally satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and smiled roguishly. “Phew! Glad that’s over with. In all honesty, if one of you were to hurt the other, it probably wouldn’t be you. I mean, let’s face it, you’re dating my kid, kid.”
Before Peter could respond, you slipped back into the room, your hands propped up on your hips. “Really, dad? Are you trying to scare Peter off?”
Your father gave you a sheepish shrug. “It was worth a shot.”
“I can make my own decisions,” you sternly replied. “You don’t need to hover.”
As you sat back down into the chair beside Tony, he wound an arm over your shoulders. “You know, my dad did the exact opposite of hovering when I was your age. He was always too caught up with work and stuff—barely ever saw the guy. Most birthdays n’ holidays and whatnot, he was never around. I don’t know, I just… I don’t want to be like my dad.”
Your features softened with his admission, and you turned to rope him into a proper hug. 
When you pulled away, Peter nervously cleared his throat. “I, uh, for the record—I don’t think you can ever scare me off. Not even after going to the moon with a rocket up my ass.”
Tony glared at him, though there was a slight smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Watch it, kid.”
“Sorry.”
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fbfh · 6 months
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TW for sexy slapping, general rough stuff, and degrading. as with all nsfw works all characters are aged up to 18+
biiiiiiiiitch I just got the most visceral image of Peter Parker fucking begging. thrown onto the bed panting and heavy breathing and whimpering for you to do something to him. anything. ideally something rough. he probably broke into your place as spiderman late at night to come see you, but it was dark and you couldn't tell who he was so in a panic you slapped him across the face and cussed him out. you know what this motherfucker did? he moaned. you stop in your tracks because of course you recognize that sound, you've made Peter make that sound enough to pick it out of a line up. you freeze half way through calling him various mean names and turn on a light. he pulls off his mask and he looks so flushed and descheveled and his hair is all rumpled. you're about to apologize for the pink mark developing on his cheek but before you can, he starts begging you to do it again. one look down at the insane boner he's incapable of hiding in that skin tight suit brings you right up to speed.
"Please please please, you can do whatever you want to me, you- you can call me more mean names, just please, don't stop..."
suffice it to say neither of you got anymore sleep at all that night, and that was the night you discovered Peter really likes rough sex.
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harryspet · 2 years
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Would you do a Drabble of what the ride home between reader and Peter might look like after the events of wrapped in red? That story is stuck in my head!!
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wrapped in red
"I can . . . I can take you straight home," Peter looked across at you from his place in the driver's seat. Tears stained your cheeks and you seemed to be frozen as you stared out the front window. You were again wearing your serving uniform but this time the white blouse was untucked and you missed a few buttons when trying to hurry and get your clothes back on, "You'll have to tell me u-uhm where to go though."
"I can't go home," You sniffled, before looking down at your lap, "My parents are gonna be so angry with me." Bucky had texted your mother from your phone, letting her know that you were okay so she wouldn't try calling the cops.
You weren't even afraid of coming home at two in the morning. You were afraid of what they'd see when they looked in your eyes. They'd see that you were broken and that you'd let someone bring out such sinful desires in yourself.
Peter wasn't sure what to say, knowing he was the source of your pain and confusion. Once he got closer to campus, he pulled over in front of a diner sitting on the corner of a quiet block. He was surprised when you didn't protest as he turned off the car and came to your side to open your door.
You followed his lead as the two of you made your way inside, seating yourself in a back corner away from the few customers inside. You looked at the kind way Peter smiled at the waitress, the way he ordered you a milkshake when your words seemed to fail you. It made you feel so stupid. You should've walked home. How could you even look him in the eye, let alone let him buy you a milkshake after he forced you to have sex with him?
Why didn't you hate him?
When your milkshake a plate of fries arrived, you watched as he dipped his into his chocolate milkshake. His smile had fallen when the waitress left and it almost seemed as if he was in the same place you were. No, probably not, he wasn't the one who was kidnapped. He'd be praised for what happened and you'd be shamed. But perhaps he was still a scared kid like you.
“I . . you have no idea . . . I’m just really sorry,” Peter said, his arms folding together and you believed him, “I don’t know how I could make it right-”
“You can’t,” You spoke shortly. Your words caused him to take a deep breath. “I can’t go to police and you can’t quit working for the most dangerous man in the city.”
His hands seemed to ball into fists, “I can’t believe this is the first real conversation we’re having,” He seems to grow even more frustrated, “I did really like you, Y/N. You’re like brilliant, every time you speak in class I like . . . I hang on every word you say. And you’re beautiful and I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance with you. Bucky thought I was weak, that’s why he did this. And I’m so stupid for letting him manipulate that and-”
“You didn’t hurt me. I guess that’s what confuses me most,” Peter knew that your body had responded to him but he hadn’t thought that you might have felt just as good as him. He was inexperienced like you were. You covered your face as you felt your cheeks heat up, “Do I quit my job? What if Bucky comes back to where I work? What if he tries to . . . what if he doesn’t leave me alone?”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Peter quickly rushed out, and you saw the same look in his eyes he got when Bucky first tried to talk to you at the restaurant. You were realizing now it was fear. Fear that you would be hurt and a need to protect you, “Trust me. None of this is ideal, but I can take care of you, Y/N. He won’t ever touch you.”
+
basically peter can’t get rid of bucky but he can be protective and stake his claim :):):)
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liz-allyn · 2 years
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Second part of rival coworker Peter is insanely good!!! Thank you so much for writing it!
Thank you, love!
ICYMi
https://liz-allyn.tumblr.com/post/686432656549969920/is-it-too-late-for-me-to-send-a-if-it-is
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piived · 4 months
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I am such a slut for Danny having supernatural strength and being able to kill someone with a single slap because he’s used to fighting ghosts who are built Sturdy (and literally can’t die, that is very helpful in a sparing partner) so he has to learn such meticulous control when he moves to Gotham where he starts regularly getting into scuffles with humans who think he’s an easy target (he looks like he has the sturdiness of a wet newspaper) and the whole time he’s more stressed about not drawing the Bats attention by being too good or accidentally killing someone so he has to walk that fine line of acting like a scrawny loser and dipping out at his first chance without being clocked as a meta.
Danny, laying on the ground and getting kicked repeatedly by a thug: *tries to angle himself so the guy can kick out a knot in his back*
Danny: *deadpan* oh, ow, stop that hurts, oof
Robin, watching from the rooftop and recognizing the dramatics from the Supers: father there is a meta
Batman, also watching and having flashbacks to Clark’s earlier days: *so so tired and already mentally getting the adoption paperwork ready*
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keisobe · 9 months
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── ⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 (𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚)
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from spider-man : across the spiderverse (spoiler free!!)
characters. miles morales. miguel o’hara. hobie brown & peter b. parker. + pavitr prabhakar
notes. i quickly wrote this because spiderverse has consumed a lot of my attention (cue the tiktok edits i’ve saved of hobie and miguel). anyways hope i did the characterization accurate enough and hope it was fun to read ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) + not completely proofread
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𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 ❤︎
he’s painfully awkward when it comes to hugging. his limbs don’t know where to wrap around, so they keep flaring everywhere until you end up locking him into one solid hug.
miles is also very respectful of your boundaries, he would do that weird hover hand thing over your waist that would look very off in photos (his hand literally 3 inches away from your shoulder, but a good photo overall).
but when he’s close to you, he would pull you into a protective and warm embrace— especially if he has been worried sick about you. that’s until he pulls away and let’s out a chuckle accompanied with a light scratch on the back of his neck to ease his worries.
“umm… wait— lemme just…”
miles’ arms were bending awkwardly and moving in lightning speed, a nervous smile plastered onto his conflicted features— twitching brows and all.
you huffed at his failed attempt to simply embrace you, so you forcefully hooked your arms around his neck and brought him closer, feeling the softness of his cheek against your forehead and the pacing heartbeat you didn’t know he had.
“it’s fine, it’s just me silly.” you teased into his ear, prompting miles to chuckle at his own awkwardness and to wrap his strong arms around your waist.
“right, it’s you.” he whispered more to himself, leaning down to reach your height and to cutely rest his head in the nape of your neck. “just you.”
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𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 ❤︎
hasn’t been held in so long. he says that he doesn’t do hugs, will probably go into flight-and-fight mode if you even asked for a small embrace. if you’re lucky though, he’ll leave you with a deadly glare and an annoyed huff.
but in the heat of the moment, in the moments of needed comfort, he will be there to give you an embrace. although, his hugs are tight, to the point you have a hard time breathing. it’ll take him a moment to notice that you’re literally breathless and will cough a lousy sorry as compensation for squeezing you to death (but he actually feels bad).
what nobody knows (maybe expect you) is that he prefers hugs that can display his strength. lifting you off from the ground with ease makes him smirk to himself. surprise hugs from the back also avoids the awkwardness of confronting actual romantic contact (it’s also more fun for him).
“what now?” miguel folds his arms impatiently as he watches you dumbly spread your arms out, a determined glint in your eyes.
no response, you simply spread your arms wider. miguel huffs an annoyed laugh and awkwardly comes up to you to embrace you, with a tightness that made you choke for air. then he suddenly lifts you from the floor, making you latch tightly around his neck.
miguel sighs deeply, the irritation that emitted from him suddenly became comfortably warm.
“did you need this hug?” you managed to breathe out, threading your fingers through the loose brown hair in the back of his neck.
“yeah, i really needed it.” miguel mumbles out in embarrassment, tightening his muscular arms around your waist— prompting a weak yet satisfied wheeze from your lips.
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𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 ❤︎
he’s chill with hugs, but he’s very friendly about it. likes to latch an arm on his mates and such— but an immediate sweet embrace you won’t really get (he’s good at reading people, so if you’re vibes are off, he ain’t moving an inch).
he generally prefers to give side hugs, nothing too personal and definitely fits his overall demeanor. match that up with a firm compliment and a friendly pat on the shoulder. but if he’s close to you, he’ll be there patiently with open arms.
then he’s analyzing you closely as you embrace him, listening closely for a change in your heartbeat or any small noise that escapes your mouth. he subtly smells you too and will not forget your scent (will use the same detergent as you right after the embrace). there’s a moment of silence and it’s perfectly comfortable.
“c’mere.” hobie faintly whispers with an expanded arm, his expression unusually soft.
immediately you ran to receive an embrace from his slim body, a wet sniffle muffled into his webbed suit as tears began to pour from your eyes. hobie hovers a calloused hand over your back, thinking for a moment, until he decides that it was fine to do so. he pats the small of your back comfortably, murmuring a song he wrote to soothe your sadness.
“thank you hobie.” you hiccuped, leaning onto his chest. hobie simply nodded, playing with the ends of your hair with a painted finger.
“yea...” he mumbled, noticing that the tears that stained your cheeks before faded and your breathing steadied. “no probs.”
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𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 ❤︎
he’s painfully awkward too. pull him into an embrace, he will let out an uncomfortable chuckle as he carefully pries you off his body. peter makes it obvious he wants his space, rightfully so.
actually, head pats is something he prefers to give. it’s comforting for him to be able to teasingly mess your hair to get a whine from you, or feel the texture of your hair under his palms. also, he’s an old man (will feel extremely insulted if you say his comforting technique is equivalent to that of an elderly folk).
but if he’s close with you or there is a moment when an embrace is desperately needed, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull you into a deep embrace. due to his new plushness to his body and rarity of his soft affection, peter’s embraces feel warm and inviting. sorry though, it’ll only last a few seconds until he’s pulling away immediately (will give up if you pull him back into the embrace tho).
“there, there kiddo…” peter softly pats your head, poorly attempting to cool your temper.
“not working peter.”
peter sighs in defeat as he slowly retracted his hand, thinking of a solution to cheer you up. without a second thought, he quickly pulled you into an embrace with efficient strength— the softness of his stomach contrasted the hardness of his chest. immediately you light up, nuzzling into his warm arms as he playfully swayed your body side-to-side.
“better?” he chuckled at your dazed expression, maybe hugging wasn’t so bad.
“yeah…” you could hear the slow patters of his heartbeat as he tightened the protective hold around your waist.
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bruisedboys · 3 months
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peter parker and “is that my shirt?” prompt would be so cute!
congrats on 6k
thank u angel! hope u like this!! join the celebration
tasm!peter parker x fem!reader
Peter’s missed you so much he actually feels kind of sick. He’s practically buzzing as he unlocks the apartment door and lugs his suitcase inside.
“Angel?”
There’s a loud and very cute squeal from down the hall. Rapid footsteps, and then you appear in your pyjamas, beaming bright as the sun, looking like the prettiest thing Peter’s ever seen.
“Peter!” You squeal, a ball of excitement. “Baby. Oh my gosh.” You cross the room and throw your arms around his neck. Peter laughs, his chest flooding with warmth, and hugs you back twice as strong.
“Hi, honey,” he says, lovelorn. You smell amazing. You look like an angel. You’re squeezing him to death. He’s missed you so much he could cry. “Holy moly, I missed you so much.”
You giggle, turn your face into the side of his head and drag your nose along his jaw. “I missed you more,” you say, lips hot on his skin.
A shiver runs down Peter’s spine. He’s only had you back for a half a minute and you’ve already got him shivering? Typical. “Impossible,” he tell you. He runs his hands down your back and up again as if to prove to himself you’re really there.
You laugh and pull back, bouncing on your toes, to look him in the eye. You’re so, so beautiful. Somehow prettier than when he left you, which seemed impossible but apparently isn’t, not for you.
You reach up and push a lock of hair from his eyes. Peter’s hypnotised. He doesn’t get how one girl can be so achingly lovely, so pretty and so sweet, but you manage it. He slides his hands down to your waist, feeling like he might explode if he doesn’t touch every inch of you. It’s then that he recognises the familiar fabric of your shirt. He looks down.
“Hey, is that my shirt?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. He nudges you backwards with his hips to get a better look. It is his shirt. His favourite one, which he didn’t pack for his trip because it suspiciously went missing the day before he left. “It is!” He exclaims, pinching at your side. “You had it this whole time?”
You giggle at his prodding, and try twisting yourself out of the way. Peter keeps a firm grip on you, hand spread over your ribs, his glare full of accusatory heat.
“I’m sorry!” You say, giggling like an idiot when he pinches you some more. “I missed you, okay? Is that such a crime?”
Peter makes a face at you but his heart’s soaring. “Well, if you count theft as crime then yeah, I would say so.”
You huff. “You’re so dramatic!”
“I’m dramatic?” Peter feigns offence, pulling his head back incredulously. “You’re the one who stole my—!”
Your lips land on his before he can finish his sentence. His words are lost to your mouth. You push up into the kiss, fervent and hot. Your fingers curl into his collar and brush over the column of his throat, and Peter forgets everything else. He kisses you back just as hard, one arm hooked around your waist and the other bent between your chests to hold your jaw.
“Never mind,” he says between kisses. “You can keep the shirt, baby.”
You laugh against his mouth.
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hanasnx · 5 months
Text
closure
MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: sexual content | booty calling spider-man :)
PETER PARKER doesn't understand why he keeps letting you do this to him. Over and over again you tell him friendship is all you want, yet at the late hours of the night— since you know he's already up— you ask if he can afford a break. Like an idiot, he swings by. Doesn't even get the chance to take off the suit before you're shoving him down into a seat, straddling him to rub yourself all over his bulge.
"Hey, easy," he tells you, "you're gonna leave a wet spot." To protest you, his gloved hands cup the plush flesh of your backside, lifting you over him. That spider-strength has you weak in the knees, eagerly latching onto his neck over the cloth. A gasp emits from him as he maneuvers his erection from the confines of his suit and you mouth at his pulse point.
"Want- you, Spider. Need you." At the invoke of that nickname, he lulls his head back and you bite onto him in your enthusiasm. A delicious and low groan pours from his throat, from both the sensation and anticipation of being inside you again. Obediently, he lowers you, nudging your entrance with the head of his cock until he feels a give. You suck in a breath to feel that stretch, no one stretches you like Peter does.
"Fuck," he drags out the word, slowly reintroducing you to his every inch. Impatiently, you push down, as if you could ever hope to overpower him. The man has lifted buses. "Wait a second, baby, wait," His fingers dig into your skin, warning you that you're going too quick for your sake.
"I can't wait any longer, you took so long getting here," you whine, burying your nose into the crook of his shoulder. You can smell his sweat through it, the musk of recent exercise, prowling the streets of Manhattan looking for trouble. "Just fuck me already?"
Pete can't believe this is working on him. Yet again bowing to your whims because he's that desperate for your attention, that desperate for your touch. He can't lie, your impetuous begging for him and his dick strokes more than his ego, length twitching while half-seated inside you. "You want it that bad?" his tone betrays his hope.
"Yes! Yes, please, Pete," With your plea, your grip on him inflects with your syllables, rutting your body against him for any kind of friction, while his halt remains infallible. No matter how you wiggle, he won't let you sink further. At first it was to keep you from hurting yourself, now it's because he likes hearing your bargain for him. Those addicting lips glide up to his ear, and he can feel your breath on the shell of it through his mask. "Need my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
"You're gonna pull that card? Seriously?" his indignant question is adversely punctuated with a buck up into you and you cry out. It got you fucking wet. It spurs him on, working himself up to a steady pace as he fucks you. He can hear the sounds of the city through the open window, if sirens flew by right now he's not sure he'd have the strength to leave you.
Putty in his hands, your body acts as fluid as he uses it, and you're so grateful you reached out to him. Fucking a superhero is thrilling enough, but fucking Spider-Man has a perk you can't pass up. That spider bite may have gifted an extra couple inches to his cock, but you're more interested in his power to fuck you like a sex toy. Along for the ride, you bounce on him because he's moving you. Like you're nothing. Out of instinct, your lips clumsily find his on the cloth as you brush noses. Your tongue peeks out, the felt drying the tip and his lips shift under your touch.
Breathless and amused, he asks, "Are you trying to french me through the mask again?"
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cosmal · 1 year
Note
✪ — oh em gee what about ❛ this is a good look for you. ❜ with peter parker
stained
summary — peter spills a drink on your top at a party.
content — tasm!peterparker x fem!afab!reader, mentions of nudity
note — sorry this is super short! more of a baby blurb!
You sit on the edge of the toilet, naked from the waist up, while Peter is hunched over the bathroom sink, scrubbing at your shirt.
"Peter, just leave it, I'll wash it at home," you say softly. He looks really determined.
He'd spilt his drink all over your top downstairs at the party you're at. He'd felt horrible and insisted that he could get the stain out in the sink. The green stain out of your white top.
Turns out dawn soap and lukewarm water don't do the job. "I'm sorry, baby, really," he frets, holding the top up where it drips into the sink. You're not sure if he's made it better or worse. You appreciate him nonetheless.
"Pete, thank you, really," you start, shifting uncomfortably over the plastic lid. You cross your arms over your chest, where your bra digs into your skin, and look at the wet mess Peter holds in his hands. "It's okay. But now I have no top."
Peter drops the shirt looking really guilty. He feels horrible because he's ruined one of your favourite tops and he's also the reason you're half-naked in some random condo.
"Shit," he curses to himself.
He doesn't think twice. Peeling his jacket off, he stands at your knees and holds it out. "Here," he says bashfully. It's a thin jacket, made of nothing really. It's all you've got and you're not about to start complaining.
You stand to slip it on and hate it when you realise it has no zipper. Or any buttons. You pull it taut over your front and start to feel anxious. "Can you see anything?"
He pulls the collar forwards over your collarbones and smooths it out over your shoulders. "You're safe," he smiles. You watch his throat bob under the skin of his lightly stubbled neck. "It, uh, it looks really good."
"Pete," you groan while tipping your head back. "I'm naked, in the middle of the city, wearing my clumsy boyfriend's jacket, and you're getting turned on?"
"What?" he gawps, clearing his throat, "I am not! You just suit it, that's all."
You pull it tight around your middle and roll your eyes. "You're unbelievable."
He plays with the hem between his fingers, keeping his eyes planted to the floor momentarily. "It's a good look on you."
You straighten your back and ignore the way he's making you feel. Time and place you remember. "Right, we're going outside unnoticed and you're gonna hail a cab with those long arms of yours."
"You don't wanna swing home?" he asks.
"You don't have your shit," you grumble. It'd be convenient, but also reckless.
"My shit? You mean my suit?" he laughs, wrapping a hand around the hinge of your elbow. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that because I deserve it."
Peter makes sure you're decent before he opens the door to the bathroom. You stand behind him, hanging off his arm, hoping his broad shoulders will do you a favour and hide you well.
There's a drunk guy on the other side for the toilet presumably. Peter moves to the side to shield you on instinct when you squeak out a surprised noise. You push your chest against him to cover the slip of skin that struggles to be covered by the jacket, and let Peter guide you down the hall.
You lean in to whisper in his ear, "You owe me, Parker."
You get out onto the street when he says, "I'll show you how sorry I am when we get home."
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cyberstrm · 10 months
Text
spiderpeople + how affectionate they are
cws: none!
spider punk is allegedly 17ish so i included him,, age him up if you need to !! didn't include miles, gwen and pavitr because 15/16 is too young for my comfort
HOBIE is privately super affectionate. likes to leave you lil post-it note notes and doodles. sends sappy texts. makes you playlists and writes songs about you. writes your name on his guitar and probably somewhere on his suit. keeps everything you give him. not a huge pda guy because he's too busy being punk, but a huge softy and cuddler when you're alone. more of an actions>words guy. probable height different makes kisses so much more fun.
MIGUEL is bad at being affectionate and getting attached at first. he learns quickly that it's something you need, and gets better at it. very gentle with you, doesn't want to hurt you. loves to pin you against a wall and kiss you. uses his size to his advantage; loves to carry you. loves to hold you, to protect you, to make you feel safe. whispers soft nothings to you to make you feel as loved as you truly are.
PETER B is the most affectionate man ever. sends sappy good morning texts. brings you breakfast in bed. takes care of you. big into PDA, hand holding, kissing, all of that. buys you flowers. plays with your hair. lets you decide what to watch on tv. biggest big spoon. house husband who helps out with the chores. big into forehead kisses and a hand at your lower back. takes you out to dinner. never forgets a special occasion.
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alwaysmoncheri · 12 days
Note
hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣
hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3
cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k
<3
Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.
“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.
“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.
“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.
“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”
“But–”
“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”
Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.
You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.
“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.
“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.
“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.
“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.
“Oh whatev—hmph!”
Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.
The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.
“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”
With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.
“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.
“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.
“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”
You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.
“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”
“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”
May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.
The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.
“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.
“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face
<3
masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist
thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!
tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker
alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
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ichorai · 2 years
Text
no plan ; peter parker.
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track four of WASTELAND, BABY!
pairing ; peter parker x gn!reader
synopsis ; it was the small, spontaneous moments with you, peter realized, that made all of this worth it.
words ; 1.7k
themes ; fluff, established relationship au
warnings / includes ; mild cursing, dancing in thunderstorms, peter being lovesick </3
main masterlist.
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The thundering rain whispered tales of tranquility as the midnight sky rumbled, grey clouds littering across the horizon. You watched the city from the window of your apartment, wrapped in a thin fleece blanket and a mug of steaming tea in hand. You toyed with a piece of frayed fabric, humming absent-mindedly. 
After taking a sip from the still-too-hot tea, you settled into a chair, tucking your knees up to your chest. A book was cracked open with one hand, and you began reading, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips.
It was only a chapter later when your eyes started to droop. Perhaps it was the warmth of the sweet tea lingering on your tongue, or the waning light of the vanilla-scented candle on your desk, or the calming sound of thunder echoing across your room that lulled you into such a state of drowsiness.
Needless to say, you were abruptly ripped away from the enticing prospect of slumber when you heard three rapid, successive knocks. Initially, your sleep-addled mind had presumed the sound was coming from your front door, but you quickly realized that it was most probably the sopping wet man in red and blue spandex hanging upside down outside your window.
Your eyebrows inched higher up your forehead in part surprise, part exasperation.
Leave it to Peter to show up at your apartment in the middle of a thunderstorm.
He tilted his head at you, rapping the glass another three times when you made no move to let him in. You snapped out of your reverie, rushing forward to push your window open, pulling him in with a grimace.
“Ugh, Peter,” you bemoaned, wrinkling your nose at his dripping form. “What are you doing here? I don’t want you swinging around in the rain, it’s—”
Your words trailed off when your boyfriend ripped his mask off his head, hair incredibly mussed and cheeks flushed scarlet from the snapping cold of the rain. He remained silent, hands clutching your hips and pulling you closer to him. He smelled of faint petrichor and toothpaste—which wasn’t entirely a surprise because you could see a bit of dried toothpaste on his jaw.
Another complaint was just on the tip of your tongue, but it was quickly forgotten when Peter dipped forward, his lips melding over yours. You froze against him for just a millisecond before caving, one hand resting on his chest and the other snaking upwards to curl over the damp tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck. His nose lodged against yours ever so gently as he kissed you, mumbling something incoherent against your lips before smiling into you. 
“What was that?” you asked, pulling back slightly to lick at your thumb and wipe away the toothpaste on his jaw.
“Nothing, nothing,” Peter softly said, pressing cold kisses along the side of your neck. “You know, between work and being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, it feels like I barely ever get to see you. I was just saying I missed you, was all.”
“Is that right?” came your reply, fondness seeping through your words. “Could’ve given me a call before dangling outside my window. What if I was busy or something?”
He ran his nose down the column of your throat as you leaned against your desk, allowing him to shadow over you. “I would’ve waited for you.” 
His frigid fingertips crawled beneath your shirt to rest against your warm stomach, and you hissed at the sudden sensation, lightly swatting at his bicep. “Peter, you’re freezing! And you’re getting my desk wet!”
The way he looked at you made your stomach coil.
“Well, you better warm me up, then,” he quipped, a suggestive lilt to his tone.
You supplied him with a roll of your eyes and a couple kisses littered over his lips, cheeks, and nose, before gently pushing him away from your desk towards the bed. The mattress groaned in protest beneath both of your weights, but it went ignored when he tugged you closer, biting your skin and breathing you in.
“Are you up for a little swing around?” he asked, practically preening from your touch when you started rubbing your fingertips over his scalp, occasionally pausing to gently pull at the roots of his dark hair.
“What kind of swinging?” you said, arching a brow. “Because I’m not going out in this weather, Peter—”
“Come on!” He jutted out his bottom lip in an overexaggerated pout. “It’ll be like those cheesy romance movies—but instead of dancing in the rain, we’ll be dangling off of skyscrapers!”
Your eyes narrowed into slits. “Nothing about that seems romantic at all.” After another second, you leaned forward to press a soft kiss over his sulky lips. “Fine. But if either one of us catches a cold, I’m spoiling the ending of every movie we’re watching together.”
“You wouldn’t!” Peter gasped with faux-offense, before pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You’re evil.”
The two of you dissolved into a bout of laughter, and he swiftly motioned for you to hold on to him. You stuck out your tongue playfully, but wrapped your arms over his neck anyways. With that, he fumbled to pull his mask back over his head and clambered out the windowsill.
The rain felt much harsher than it looked. The drops struck your skin like small pebbles, and the wind whistled wolfishly into your ears. You clung onto Peter even tighter as he shot out the web fluid and swung the both of you away from your cozy apartment, into the heart of the city.
“Oh my GOD! PETER!” you just about screamed your lungs raw when he pretended to drop you mid-air, before zipping down half a second later to scoop you back up. He was laughing so hard that you could hear him over the raucous thunder. 
Eventually, he deposited you onto the rooftop of another apartment complex just a couple blocks away from yours. There were rows of potted plants along the edges, along with sodden coils of fairy lights that were most probably broken by now. You shivered, the cold biting a chill down your spine, but you relished the droplets of water landing on your skin, smiling when a gust of wind sent you straight into Peter’s arms.
It seemed he wasn’t lying when he said he had wanted it to be like the cheesy romance movies—he grasped your hands in his and slowly twirled you around, slowly swaying to a song that neither of you could hear. 
“This feels so weird,” you said once he pressed his chest along your back, nosing your cheek fondly. “We look insane, Peter.”
“I know,” your boyfriend replied with a chortle, before spinning you around again and kissing you once more. “But sometimes weird is nice.”
You hummed your agreement, snaking your arms over his neck and leaning into him.
The two of you danced (or, awkwardly shuffled around) for the next ten minutes or so before the rain started to thin out. You wiped the rainwater off your face with a grin, then did the same to Peter with the dripping sleeve of your sweater.
Offering you his hand to swing back home, you graciously took the extended limb and held on for dear life as he threw the both of you off the building. 
Instead of sliding back into your window, the two of you opted to dance around on your building’s rooftop, scuffing the damp gravel with your shoes. He carefully observed the stars, the late-night drivers, the way the moon danced within your searching eyes. 
Peter felt like he had swallowed a jar full of honey—his throat grew thick and hesitant. So he was grateful when you sat down, legs dangling off the edge. He followed your lead, sweetly kissing the side of your temple. 
No words were exchanged. None really needed to be. 
The two of you watched as the sun began to rise hours later, and your eyelids were drooped to no return. Your head had found its way to his shoulder, breathing evened to a steady rhythm. 
The sun bled the sky a soft peach, followed by clementine and tangerine hues.
“Come on, baby,” he said, suppressing a large yawn behind his mask. “Let’s get you into bed.”
As carefully as he could, he shifted so that he could hold you in one arm as he climbed down the walls of the building, dropping onto the black gratings of the fire exit’s staircase and crawling to your window. He took great care as he slipped in, making sure you didn’t hit your head on the sill. 
Dutifully, he set you down onto your bed and rid you of your damp clothes, doing so with a fond smile permanently etched across his mouth. 
How’d he get so lucky with you?
He found a shirt in your drawers that used to belong to him just a week ago, but he didn’t mind. Peter rather liked the thought of you wearing his clothes.
You drowsily cracked an eye open as he pushed your head through the shirt hole, kissing your cheek and crooning something that you didn’t quite catch.
He motioned back to the window, and you just barely registered that he was saying goodbye.
“No,” you muttered, reaching out to limply make a grab for his wrist. “Stay here, Peter. Please?”
Your boyfriend didn’t even hesitate before splitting into a bright beam, yanking his own spidersuit off to slip beneath your warm blankets. He found it amusing that you had little plushies of your favorite Star Wars characters littered amongst your pillows—Darth Vader’s soft lightsaber was poking the side of his head. 
“You’re cold,” he whispered into your wet hair as he sidled himself against you.
“And whose fault is that?” you lazily droned back, lacking any bite.
Peter mustered a tired laugh, littering slow, saccharine kisses down your neck and jaw. “I love you.”
It was silent for a second, and Peter was nearly offended that you hadn’t said it back, before he realized that you had already fallen asleep in his arms.
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fbfh · 1 year
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Thinking about how terrified Peter and Harley would be when you really pull your first stunt. Your first classic Stark life on the line huge risk bold ass move to protect the people you love. They've been training and training and training, their only real jobs have been as backup or guard duty, keeping you away and safe from the danger. You train with them sometimes, only for self defense, only because your dad wants to make sure you can use your suit and use it well if you ever do need it. You're okay with your dad wanting to keep you as far from the superhero life as possible, or you've at least made peace with it. In the whole time Peter and Harley have known you, in the whole time you've been training together and bonding and going to press conferences and making tiktoks of what it's like behind the scenes as an Ironman sidekick (a group affectionately dubbed iron fam by the general public) there hasn't been one time when you've tried to do something risky. You never used your suit unless you were unsafe, you never tried to sneak away to help the fight or fight crime, something they've both done more than once. Whenever they're with you when shit is going down, all you've ever done is keep a very close eye on the fight when it starts to get bad. So the time when things were looking particularly bad and you somehow managed to slip away from them and use yourself as bait (which ultimately did turn the tides and help the avengers win the fight) the terrifying realization dawned on both of them that they're only protecting you and keeping you safe because you're letting them. You know when to pull your punches and when to go all out, and for those few moments where it looked like you were flying into the lions den, straight into the clutches of the people who want you and your dad and them and everyone else dead, they knew how Tony feels when they pull stunts like that. They understand Pepper a little better too, while she's one room away lecturing Tony for doing something of an equal calculated risk that also paid off, they're doing the same to you. They go back and forth until they're out of breath, telling you how scared out of their minds they were, how stupid that was, how worried they were about you. When they're done, you tell them the truth. You weren't going to let anything happen to them, you never will. You hug your boys tight, and they hug back, squeezing you just as hard. They almost can't tell you just put your life on the line for them without a second thought, but they don't miss the way your hands shake.
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webslingingslasher · 9 months
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ok but what if some girl would be saying that she slept with frat!peter after some party (where he was with trouble) and stuff like "oh yeah he had me calling him daddy and he's totally not a boob guy" and trouble overhears her and goes to peter with "you would not believe what i have just heard" and joking that maybe she has magic tits or something
you weren't listening.
minding your own business, pouring liquor into plastic cups, and cracking a can of sprite for a mixer; a group of friends crowded behind you. not listening, but certain words poked out more than others.
"he's fucking jacked by the way, it's like when i hooked up with parker."
your blood ran cold, frozen in place you were straining your hearing for each word to follow, if she didn't add more context you'd be shaking peter by his shirt.
a friend gasps, "you did? when?"
oh, not old news?
yeah, when did she?
flashing your eyes to peter, he's talking to someone and not paying attention. you'll kill him.
"like, around the start of the school year?"
oh thank god, he's in the clear.
"okay, well... spill!"
you can't walk away, your feet are glued to the vinyl floor. maybe, you just want to know if peter's telling the truth when he says you're different than the rest.
"ass man all the way, insisted on doggy. big dick, strong game, threw me around a little, had me calling him daddy and everything. not very affectionate though, i don't think he kissed me, actually. and not a lick of a cuddle after, threw my dress at me and said 'need an uber?' but, hey, i'd still do it again."
another friend cackles, "too bad, nate begged him to do a double date and parker immediately shut it down and said, and i quote, 'no. i have a girlfriend. she doesn't want me dating other girls.' kinda sweet if you ask me."
your heart soars, this is the first time he's ever referred to you as his girlfriend. not that you were, at least not officially, but it's easier to explain than what you actually were, and you had no idea what you were. you assume he doesn't either.
their conversation falls into something else, making you feel confident in moving away from the counter with a full cup in each hand, walking straight to the most interesting man of the night.
peter perking up instantly, leaving his friend with a fist bump, meeting you halfway.
"hi trouble, i missed you." a warm kiss placed on your cheek, you can't help the grin while handing him his drink, "hi handsome, i got a question..." you trail your words off and shift your back against his chest so he'd have a clear view of who you're pointing at.
"see that group of friends, do you know anyone there?"
he barely gives them a look over, one harm slung over your waist, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, "no, don't think so."
nudging him, "no, really. look." a sigh, "looking, no one looks familiar." the back of your head hits his chest, "peter, c'mon. please don't tell me you're one of those guys."
"i don't know what you mean! are you testing me or something?"
turning in his hold, a small pout hangs. "you hooked up with one of them. tell me which one and you earn two brownie points."
that changes things, because now peter knows what the mission is and how to identify previous suitors. mind ticking and eyes running over each body in a different way. watching him analyze is interesting. You wonder what he looks for in a hookup.
"the one in the middle. i'm sure of it, but i can't remember her name. I think it started with an 's' or 'v' maybe 'l'?"
"It's whitney," peter cheers his cup on your shoulder, "oh yeah, that's right."
you spin in his grasp, "liar. i made that up." peter pulls you closer, "you're just so convincing, trouble. call me gullible."
humming, you press a kiss to his chin, "she was talking about you, wanna hear?"
"this feels like a trap, i don't like this idea."
"oh, you should. i heard all about you in bed, and how you told nate i was your girlfriend." peter shakes his head, "i think you've been hitting the sauce hard tonight and you're making things up."
shaking your head like a toddler, "nope, i heard the truth about daddy." peter's head is thrown back with a groan, "alright, wow, we're really doing this. what else did you hear?"
"that you're an ass man, and," you sway on your feet and pretend to twirl a stand of hair, a nasally sarcastic tone rips, "you're like so, super fucking jacked. like, seriously so sexy. ugh! with a big dick too!"
peter presses a kiss to your cheek, "thank you for the compliments, baby." another kiss, the corner of your mouth, "even if you're sarcastic." a delicate kiss to your lips, "and a little wrong."
"which part was wrong? she's right, you've got a fucking wrench."
your cup is pulled from your hand, "alright, it's done. we're done."
a whine, "no! c'mon, please, daddy?"
"i'll silence you and you won't like it."
"will it be with your monster coc-"
a hand is slapped over your mouth, "i'll kill you, and won't have a problem with it."
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l13 · 8 months
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Peter B getting baby fever 🥰
The man who pins you in a mating press so you're just completely at his mercy
You could be sobbing and He's still going. Cooing and telling you how he knows you can handle just one more load
It's spilling out onto the bed under you at this point and you can barely think as he fucks into your overstimulated pussy
Praising you and telling you how pretty you'd look as a mommy
omfg yes.
cw: nsfw mdni, breeding kink, mommy kink?
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peter is panting against your mouth, babbling about how 'you're taking him so well," how he "can't wait to get you pregnant-", he's honestly not doing better himself- whimpering and moaning with drool running down the side of his mouth, eyes rolling back at the way your pussy squeezes him tightly- and he can smell the sex in the air after hours of fucking into you messily- his hair sticking to his forehead.
"Y'gonna cum for me, mommy?"
"Fuck- one more, jus' one more baby I swear-," but he's a big fat LIAR 'cause he just can't for the life of him stop thrusting his hips against you:(((, you feel so good that it brings tears to his eyes, chasing the same pleasure you give him over and over again, till you're both spent- his cum dripping out of your pussy cause it's just too much- and he's cursing quietly, fingering you to try and push it back in, his other hand holding you down as you thrash around- crying out to him that it's too much-
"Oh I know honey, gotta make sure though, right? Gotta make sure you get pregnant-" "How else will I make you a mommy, hm?"
his cock is painted white, nd he flushes pink when he notices how stained the bed sheets are- you're just gonna have to throw them out at this point.
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ddejavvu · 8 months
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'you're a very good kisser.' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)
omg what about tasm!peter taking you to the library for a ‘study date’ but you just end up kissing in the history section oops 🤭
join my 20K celebration!
'you're a very good kisser.' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)
--
Everything's going fine, more than that, actually, until a textbook digs into your spine. Peter's too far gone to realize that your squirming is out of discomfort rather than pleasure, and you have to push against his chest to get him to break away from the kiss he's pressing you against the shelves with.
He blinks dazedly, his lips slick with spit as he pants slightly.
"What- what's wrong?"
"There's-" You reach behind you, squinting at the cover of the book you'd been bruised by, "Napoleon decided to join us."
"Oh," He laughs softly, keeping his voice down in case anyone comes to bust you for using the library inappropriately, "I think that's why we're not supposed to make out in the library."
Despite his previous statement, he leans in for another kiss.
"Peter," You mumble, unable to resist the temptation to reciprocate. He kisses you firm and steady, but you peck his lips once, twice, "Peter, I think we should move."
"Mmm okay." He hums, nose still prodding at your cheek, lips on your own, "Romance section?"
"Bedroom," You worm out of his grip, taking his hand and dragging him towards the exit. He follows eagerly, nodding with a hazy grin.
"That- that works, too." He decides, "Much less dusty."
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