#peter parker x m!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nouearth · 9 months

Text

lessons in kissing.

dick grayson x male reader x peter parker.

summary: dick and peter become your professors in kissing 101 (& more).

wc: 6.2k. genre: smut. warnings: top!peter, top!dick, bottom!reader, handjobs, blowjobs, kissing, cum-swapping, mouth-fucking, threesome, unprotected rough!sex, reader's first time, characters are aged up!

notes: yeah, so um... this might be my dirtiest smut yet. this was also my first time writing a threesome soooo, i hope i did okay? thank you, anon!

request by: anonymous.

“you’re lying! you’ve really never kissed anyone before?”

“dude, like, ever?!” peter gasped, and you turned towards him, slowly nodding while you grew cautious of everyone’s confusion.

“not even when you were in kindergarten?” you twisted your neck for the nth time at the sound of dick’s voice again, and shame unexpectedly crept onto you the more the two men collected their bafflement together.

your cheeks and neck flamed as they both stared at you, bewildered as if your confession was akin to an unmasking of a superhero—like a family of lemurs, a small one, you’d reckon.

“geez,” your hand clutched onto the can of sparkling water harder before downing it, ridding your insecurity in several hard and fizzy gulps. “if i knew i was going to be interrogated, i wouldn’t have told you guys in confidence.”

“no, it’s just…” a careful exchange was puzzled together by the two men. dick shrugged and peter stammered, following you into the kitchen of his apartment. “i mean, not to make you feel weird or anything, but you’re not ugly.”

“i- pete, was that supposed to be a compliment?” your eyes narrowed at him jokingly, maintaining the coldness of your gaze to break peter into nervous stammers.

“w-what, no!“ he shook his head and approached you closer, a mixture of awkward laugher filling the feigned tension between the both of you. “wait- no, i mean, yes! it’s a compliment.”

you’ve always found it cute.

“i think what peter means is…” bouncy steps followed you two into the kitchen, more-so to sate his appetite for pizza after losing his tenth consecutive match on a game, but consider his curiosity piqued. a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese didn’t stop him from joining. “you’re handsome, he talks about it all the time.”

“dude...” peter grumbled and instinctively turned his body away out of your sight, sipping at nothing in his cup. the only fizz left was the glare he sent dick; like a sparkler on holiday festivities.

“oops, my bad,” another bite, and dick took his cup of soda to gulp the grease down. “we find you handsome—though, i’m pretty sure (m/n) knew that since i hit on him when we first met.”

“god,” you laughed it off, picking the pizza box of gloopy cheese to take it in your mouth. “can you imagine? my first kiss being with you? or even peter?”

yes, you can imagine. those thoughts had run rampant since you met them in freshman year of university, expanded upon it even. what would it be like to date dick? how soft were his lips? and the same for peter. sometimes, you’d even think about making out while he was in his spider-man costume, but that fantasy was shamefully bookmarked into a deep abyss of thoughts, only sprouting when you would touch yourself at night.

“why?” peter turned back, almost offended, while dick’s laughter joined you, and you swear you can feel a draft from how quickly he twisted around. “is that weird?”

“kinda?” the conversation made you shift on your feet. it was more intimate than what you were used to, and they knew it too, judging by the way they both stared at you again—hyenas. “i mean, i guess it’s because we’re so close now, so…”

“pft, that never stopped me,“ it was like a magic spell drew that confession out of dick. your fingers would have to be cut to coerce that out of you, but you weren’t dick—shameless and confident, you admired it on good days.

nonetheless, you and peter both gave dick a questioning look. offended would be a regular person’s first reaction, but from the brief exchange you and peter shared, it was unanimous that curiosity took the lead.

dick’s gaze shifted from you and peter, and when the silence drew out for longer than he would’ve thought, a welcoming draft in the room awaited his rebuttal. “come on- you seriously think i stopped thinking about you guys just because we’re best friends now?

“dude, you think about me?” peter’s eyes widened. it would’ve been hilarious if you weren’t involved. you would’ve passed this off as a banter, no more than that.

you hated to admit it, but you felt yourself throb at this revelation. blood rushed downwards in light speed and you were barely conscious to the drone of peter and dick’s chatter, but you shook it off, laughing at their banters like you aways did.

the day went on like usual. peter’s collection of video games kept you guys entertained for a few hours. when you felt fatigued from mashing your thumb onto the buttons for the ninth match, a walk downtown sufficed. laughing and bantering were the core of your friendship with dick and peter—like every friendship you’d imagine.

but at its finest, it was their vulnerabilities to you, and yours to them, that kept the foundation strong. they trusted you with every secret of theirs, aided them in a few missions of their own, and your friendship thrived.

the next few days haven’t been exactly the smoothest. you were quieter than usual, and they both took notice because you’d pick at your food while their voices—questions and comments—were ignored, passersby to the street of hearville.

was it that weird to have never kissed at your age? to never have had sex? to not even have had held hands with another guy? they never made fun of you, but you couldn’t help but let these thoughts run rampant.

no. no, it wasn’t. people have their own pace. mine... just somehow happens slower.

you weren’t insecure, but you still felt weird. you suddenly became moody when you saw dick and peter, like you want to be left alone, push them out of your apartment when they drop a visit, drop their pants and suck them off-

oh.

ohhhhh.

dick and peter.

“teach me.” you suddenly spoke out and the two men looked up from their plate of food, exchanging a look with each other before questioning you, humored because you barely spoke all day. the tv played in the background and you were all sitting on the ground, eating off of peter’s very… very small coffee table.

“ah, i almost forgot what your voice sounded like, (m/n)!” dick laughed, twirling his fork into his pasta before shoving the food into his mouth.

you made a slight pout, only because they weren’t taking you seriously. though, to be fair, you have been acting weird all week.

“with what?” peter noticed, a little more serious in his inquiry. but food was more of a priority for him, you can see him practically sweating at the thought of leaving his spaghetti cold.

“pete, you can still eat-“ you laughed, taking a bite of your food.

“oh, thank god.” and peter does the same, chowing down on his spaghetti after a hard day of saving lives.

dick cleaned his palette with a cold gulp of soda, a refreshing hiss when the bubbles trickled down his throat. “so, teach you what exactly?” he continued on. “fighting? oh, dude, are you going to be a vigilante-“

“no, no! does it look like i have the strength to be like batman or something?”

“well, i’m guessing that’s why you came to us for training?” dick amused himself, and peter chuckled, much to your annoyance.

“guys, i don’t want to be a vigilante.” you grumbled, beginning to bury your confession deep in the pit of your stomach somewhere. “or a superhero, or a guy in a spider-suit with weird web things.”

“hey, they’re not weird-“

“i want to…” it was calming to watch the way your fork swirled itself into the pasta, metal tongs pierced and capturing a wave of sauce and spaghetti all in one swirl. “learn what it’s like to kiss.”

peter choked on his glass of water.

you continued, hot in the cheeks because you can see peter’s widened eyes even when you look away. “handjobs, blowjobs, everything…”

and a piece of dick’s meatball was caught in his throat.

a low drone accompanied the silence once the tv was muted and while a huge weight lifted off your shoulders and chest, you felt small knowing how vulnerable and weird your request sounded.

“so, you want us to teach you how to…” dick cleared his throat and you feel like you could hear a smile, but you weren’t sure if that was your mind trying to convince you that everything was fine. “kiss and… other things?”

“yeah,” you continued to avoid your gaze, opting for the wooden floor instead. “i know, it’s weird. you don’t have to say yes or anything, it’s just-“

“is that why you’ve been acting stand-offish lately? peter was worried. he was the type to always blame himself of someone else’s behavior, no matter how much you tried to reassure him. though, you guess, he technically was the reason why you became so moody—part of it, anyway.

“mhm.” the silence was defeating, you can hear their necks turn to look at each other—of judgement, most likely.

and it was all but confirmed when you can see them hopping back onto their feet and running—running as far from you as possible. “guys, wait, i’m sorry-“

you looked up and watched them dash to peter’s bathroom, immediately chasing after the trail of their steps in bewilderment. “what are you-“

“first step, make sure you have good breath.” dick handed you your toothbrush, his spare one at peter’s already brushing into the foaming spearmint in his mouth.

“atleastluntilhelikeyousenough” peter gargled thick and incoherent, brushing into his jumbled sentence.

“uh-huh, okay… seems a little obvious, but…” you spread the toothpaste on the bristles of your brush and began brushing, a smile forming because you have to brush the front teeth too—but also because of your best friends.

you can always count on them.

“you ready?” dick naturally became the leader of this impromptu training program. he was the most experienced considering how many women and men you caught him with, and as much as you hated that when you were roommates with him, his expertise was needed in this moment.

“yes.” you sat in the middle of peter and dick, rubbing your sweaty palms against your shorts. a mere flash of regret ignited inside of your beating heart, but peter rested his hand on top of one of yours, squeezing ever so gently to warm and soothe you—to pacify you.

and your worries were quelled when dick does the same, his smile softer, countering his usual playful attitude. “just stop me whenever you feel uncomfortable.” he made you feel safe.

you looked at peter, and he nodded in agreement, his fingers now intertwined with yours. he had always kept you safe, feeling safe, this was a normal feeling towards him. “same with me.” “i will.” your voice was quiet in the bedroom, a mere soft whisper, but they recognized your will to be more vulnerable with one another, to blossom. and dick appeased it with a kiss.

light and feathery at first to test the water, but once dick heard your breath hitch, he applied more pressure in between your lips, capturing them in a slow waltz that kept you on your toes, yet flat on your feet to contain your excitement—your relief.

it was awkward at first, to find your footing. your nose would bump into his, teeth as well, but dick chuckled, assuring you this will always happen.

unbeknownst to you, dick’s been wanting to do this since he met you, and he savored every second. “remember what i told you… build it up.” he reminded you because you were getting eager, following his lead but returning his kiss in hard sucks. “nice and slow.”

peter’s palm on your thigh pressed gently onto your bare skin, mistakenly under the lift of your shorts because he was too in awe of the kiss, but they grounded you from your brief flight to the heavenly clouds nonetheless.

“nice and slow…” dick repeated, and you succumbed to his reminder like a prodigy. “that’s it.” it lasted for a few seconds longer until you pulled away to capture your breath again. your lips tingled still, remembering the taste of spearmint when dick’s breath ghosted on your skin.

“was that okay?” an innocent question, but you swore you stole that exact same tone from a porn you watched the other day.

“a natural,” dick laughed, stroking your hair back and you’ve never see him so affectionate—loving, as he doted on you. “try it on peter. more touching though, if you’re okay with that.”

you nodded and turned your head, meeting peter’s gaze with a flushed smile, your lips slightly swollen from your previous endeavor. “I’m okay with that.”

“me too.” peter smiled, only softening when you leaned in, and it completed hid against you when you captured his smile with a kiss.

his hand gently placed on the back of your head when you did and he pulled you closer into him, returning the kiss, and spilling his breath into yours, while at the same time, drawing yours out. “rub my chest, i like it when people do that.” peter whispered in between each kiss.

you do as you were told, a gentle hand to peter’s broad chest, and you feel yourself tightening, satisfied with how intimate this all is as you felt the muscles on his chest through the fabric.

in the meantime, dick’s been squeezing at the bulge in his pants, containing his will to completely ravish you simply by watching the way you and peter made out. he’s always been observant, noticing the strong twitching of peter’s own erection, and soon yours when peter slid his tongue into your mouth.

it was tantalizing—breath-taking— watching intimacy build up and vulnerabilities become unimaginably pliant before him. the pink muscles looped and swirled with one another, spreading and sharing sticky saliva until your mouth and peter’s were practically coated in it, glossed in sheen.

when peter pulled away, your lips were immediately stolen by dick again, kissing you with more strength than before, stubbornly refusing the chance for you to restock on oxygen as he wanted a taste of you too. the air became thicker, harder to breathe, but you basked in the taste, the wetness of dick’s tongue, and allowed yourself to become weak in his arms when he took you in, embraced you closely. “mmf...” you moaned out, breathing harder.

but just like dick, peter wasn’t finished with you, directing his tongue and lips to the back of your neck when you turned away. his ticklish and fleeting kisses pulled you back into peter’s arms, but dick noticed and pulled you forward: a stubborn game of gentle tug of war.

they wanted you, every piece of you. it was telling as peter sucked into your neck, venomous and poisoning, and when dick began directing your hand under his shirt, allowing you to feel his toned stomach and chest, and eventually his clothed erection, making you squeeze around it with an open palm.

lessons have completely escaped to the back of minds, and all that remained was pure lust.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to.” dick reassured. though, ironically, his hand atop of yours, relieving the ache in his pants continued.

through swollen lips, you managed to mutter, distracted by peter’s bruising sucks to other areas of your neck and skin, whimpering when he bit a little too hard. “i did say teach me everything…” his hands were under your shirt now, warming your bare skin with his palms, excited, but fleeting as they immediately tied to the buttons of your shorts when you gave the okay.

“hey, hey,” dick laughed, watching the way peter has grown grandly impatient. “you’re going to scare him, horn dog.” he left a kiss on your lips, a quick one before leaning past you to kiss peter.

you watched in awe at what a kiss was supposed to be like: burning with ease and passion with every stroke of their lips, no hesitation at all—just a moment of time that they’ll remember. you backed into the bed and leaned against the headboard as they kissed at the foot. you don’t remember having your hand down your shorts, but you do, palming yourself to your own private show.

the kiss ran sloppy, drool dripping down either chins, stained with intimacy, and clothes were quickly tossed to the side, with no care in the world.

you followed.

even though you were similar height to peter, he was stronger—they both were. and now, you felt smaller as they climbed onto the bed, towards you, bare and hardened. you watched breathlessly, as their cocks swung heavy with heat. peter’s pre-cum dripped thickly in yearn for something to fuck, while dick’s throbbed for something to fill—a porn scene come to life—and you were left agape, jaw and legs.

“kinda surprised we’ve never done this sooner,” peter said, you weren’t used to his voice so low. kneeling on the bed, by your left hip, he took your hand and kissed the palm, the wrist of it, skimmed his lips over your forearm before guiding It toward his cock, aching for your touch. “though, was hoping i’d have you to myself, but…” gently, your hand was cradled to wrap around his shaft, warm and running with veins, it pulsed. “this works too.”

your chest rose with every spoken word, and peter has never looked hotter. taking control of you like that made your skin crawl, a spell that commanded you to move your hand back and forth, conjuring you to pump him in slow strokes.

contrary to his overall demeanor, his actions were of warmth. caresses to your head, doting on you with honey dripping from his gaze and cotton in touch while you sinned.

you didn’t know where to look—to fall in love with the way peter gazed at you like a painting in a museum, or to salivate over the way his pre-cum leaked thickly over your hand when you squeeze it out of him, like a bottle of maple syrup.

that became more a problem—a dilemma—when you felt a wetness over your right nipple, then a sting when dick bites to get your attention—selfish and stubborn, like always. “are you sure this wasn’t a tactic to get all three of us in the same room? you seem comfortable.”

he tongued your nub, flicking back and forth to make you squirm, to hear the sound of your moans, to be the reason you have trouble sleeping at night. alongside, his palm ran over your body—chest first, down your stomach, and finally, your erect cock and balls.

you watched, breathless, continuing to stroke peter’s cock and he’d lean over to give you a few kisses here and there. for the most part, he was content like this, watching you squirm while maintaining to do the best to pleasure him.

“no, i swear- it’s just-“ dick played with your balls, squeezing and tugging on the tight sack to loosen them. every man was sensitive down there, you were no exception. “you guys made me feel safe, so…”

“well,” you looked up when peter spoke, his eyes fluttered shut, and you only got them to open when you thumbed the slit of his head, rubbing slick all over his glans, then the length of his cock when you continued stroking. “we are superheroes.”

you all laughed, switching gazes between the both of them, but it was dick’s mouth suddenly wrapping around you that made you concentrate only on him.

“oh, fuck…” warmth surrounded you, inhaled you in one shallow breath, before dick pulled you out of his wet mouth, taunting you with the loss of heat.

“it’s just like kissing,” he said, licking a stripe over the underside of your cock, tonguing his favorite spot: the neck of the glans and the frenulum. dick followed the lines of flesh with precision, leading the very tip of his tongue into the duct of your urethra—once again, tonguing it while his eyes focused on you, devious. “but let curiosity take you further and explore every part of their body.”

“m-mm…” you were sure there was meaning to his words, but they fell on deaf ears. instead, you focused on the ample heat that engulfed you again, moaning.

“every.” dick took you in and pulled you out with a pop.

“fuck-“ you breathed out, curling your toes into the sheets.

“part.” holding your cock up and stroking sloppily, he inhaled your ballsack. sweaty and musty, they must’ve been, but dick devoured the scent, the taste of sins with hungry sucks and licks—ardent and full of fervor.

and at the moment where you most expected to let out a moan, it was shoved down your throat when peter suddenly situated you in between his legs and filled your mouth with his thick cock, smelling of sweat and sex when you inhaled near his trimmed hairs.

“come on,” peter briefly pulled out, tapping the plump tip over your lips. “you learn best when you demonstrate what you’ve been taught.”

peter covered your view of dick, but you weren’t sure if you needed to see him because you felt every maneuver of dick’s tongue, now drowning your cock with his mouth while he continued assaulting your sensitive balls, tugging and squeezing.

you looked up and peter never looked bigger, more intimidating, but it’s become your new addiction, and you take his cock, holding it thick and take in what you can. it was barely past the tip before you could feel yourself gagging, but with peter’s reassurance, you swallow more of him every time you went down, slicking him up with your spit.

“how’s he doing, pete?” your cock was left cold when dick pulled away to speak, but he made up for it with his hand, stroking his spit with your cock.

“he really is a natural.” peter chuckled, watching you with a scrunched face of pleasure whenever you pulled him deeper into your mouth. almost down your throat now, but he pulled his cock back completely before you can fully take him. “you try.”

“fuck, yes.” dick leaped over and used the spit from your length earlier to lube his own cock, spitting in his palm and stroking when it wasn’t slicked to his likening while peter scooted back to kneeling at your side, stroking himself now.

as your head was positioned in between both their cocks, dick’s was bigger, thicker—a mouth stretcher you’d imagine. but peter’s was longer, veinier, and the only thing they had in common was that their balls hung loose. in porn terms, hung like a horse.

and on this very day, you considered yourself a lucky man because you have no objection to either, no will to pick and choose.

“look at you,” dick’s voice was rugged, deep, and he pushed his cock past your swollen lips. there was a clear difference in girth. your mouth was stretched wide, and you could only hum a sound of satisfaction, even with the slight sting from the stretch of skin. “who knew you’d be such a cock lover, hm?”

“he can’t get enough of it, god…” peter was in awe, salivating and stroking quicker at the sight.

two hands kept dick’s cock still in your mouth while you sucked on the bulbous tip like a lollipop. the rest of your hands stroked whatever you couldn’t mange to fit in your mouth. you were apologetic at first, but dick’s smirk told a simple story of his ego, clearly aroused by the size of his own cock as it only grew wider when you struggled downing him, gagging with a whimper.

“come on… (m/n), you can do better than that. you were so good at sucking peter off, kissing us too. what happened?” dick pulled away to stroke himself with your spit, but he quickly buried any excuses into your throat when he pushed himself into your mouth.

“you’re too comfortable now, (m/n). you’re slacking…” peter joined the banter, and when dick pulled out of your mouth, peter’s cock replaced the loss of warmth to your surprise.

holy shit, this is happening.

like a see-saw, the two men alternated in filling your mouth, stuffing saliva further and further down your throat, without allowing a single excuse from you to escape. it’s buried now, deep in the pit of your stomach, and all you can do was be the prodigy that they wished for you to be.

when it was dick’s turn to stretch your mouth, you made sure that peter’s cock wasn’t left abandoned, stroking him with distracted strokes, and vice versa when it was his turn at your throat. you overworked yourself in pleasuring your two best friends, making sure they were satisfied with you, with your mouth as you took more of them without a single plea for a break.

“fuck, there we go…” occasionally, dick would take control by holding the back of your head and fucking inside of your tight mouth. drool leaked down either corners of your mouth while you let him, tears brimming in your eyes when your throat tightened again, a familiar feeling that dick encouraged to hold back. “there’s my star. taking cock like a good student.”

if there was one thing that these very brief lessons have taught you, you were exactly what they named you: a cock lover. you slurped at whatever—whoever—entered your mouth absentmindedly, spat on cocks that have begun to look more or less the same, because it was dizzying now. your cock was left alone, but it stood tall and proud, throbbing as the two men harassed your face and mouth with their erections. one would gag you while the other had his balls shoved to your face and nose, sliding its wet, dirty slick all over your skin, staining you with lust.

it alternated like this for a while, and you were content, so was dick and peter. but you needed more—something to fill you elsewhere that wasn’t your dirty mouth. and you pleaded with your eyes, looking up at your best friends with delighted tears, a mouthful of cock, and a gaze only a cock loving whore could have—and they recognized it.

peter was reluctant to pull away, he was so close. but he’s always been selfless. he released his hold on you and it was a struggle to pull you away, but he did with your lips suctioning off with a quiet pop. a thick string of spit that once connected between your lips and peter’s cock laid like webs on your chin, cooling as you watched the two men reposition themselves.

“i’m going to assume we don’t need a lesson in how to finger yourself, hm?” dick whispered against your swollen lips and kissed you again. you were entranced under his tongue, swirling all over yours like ocean waves while you touched yourself to his licks. you twisted and pinched your nipples, tugged on them with the occasional help from dick, then stroked your cock while dick continued from peter’s original trail of bruising kisses to mark his own territory on your body. you were as horny as they were, if not hornier, and you needed them inside of you, in any way possible.

“fuck, i need you guys so bad.” breathless in your moans, your legs squirmed when you felt something wet between your thighs when they were raised, peter’s nice girth sliding in between the plump skin.

he thrusted himself slow and steady while he worked on your hole, reaching down to prepare you with his lubed digits, one by one. you’ve done this before, they were surely aware, so it wasn’t a unit that was particularly focused.

in between preparation, your mouth remained on dick’s cock again, delivering him your fullest attention with several lathers of your tongue, sucking hard and hollow, deep into your throat. you remember what he taught you and occasionally stuffed your mouth with his balls, sucking on the weight and letting go with a pull because you got off on seeing how they tensed and jiggled when you did.

“i’ll go slow.” peter leaned in with your legs hooked over his shoulders, bending you back, and kissing the tip of your nose when he was close enough to your face. “tell me if you want to stop.”

once you nodded, allowing him the will to deliver on his promise, peter made sure to lube himself up once more before pushing inside of you, slow and steady. he was careful, watching your face as it scrunched when the head slid in—burned when the rest of him filled you to the brim.

it was almost like you couldn’t breathe. it was too much, to be bearing all of this pain alone, but at the same time, you held peter close, wrapped your arms around him to prevent him from leaving you while you buried tiny whimpers into his neck, because you don’t want to stop feeling it, so full and devoured. it was written all over their faces when you glanced at them—they didn’t want to stop either.

peter and dick decorated your skin in wet kisses, distracting you from the pain while peter began to find a rhythm. although slow, you were beginning to familiarize yourself with this pain. soon after, pleasure, when he struck something inside of you, a certain spot.

“oh- peter, right there, fuck.” your legged tightened around him and the sweat from your thighs rolled back onto your stomach when peter re-adjusted himself to fuck you at a higher angle, folding you onto your back.

“yeah? right here?” peter thrusted into that spot dead-on, like a dart to a bullseye, and you groaned, your throat aching in pleasure, but dick pacified it with his cock again, filling you up once more. “oh fuck, look at you. all of your holes are filled up, fuck… so fucking tight”

“baby, you’re doing a great job, god…” your heart beat when dick called you that. it was always something he said as a joke when he arrived to your place. honey, darling, you name it, but the fact that it came out so genuine, it made your skin flush red and you could only respond in moans while you sucked him off. “i think he likes it when you fuck him like that, pete.”

for the first time, you felt wanted.

peter’s thrusts were hard and strong, his balls swung into with every rhythm. you can see the muscles in his thighs flexing whenever he pounded down into your tight hole, your bodies colliding like waves to a rock. it stung whenever his skin slapped into yours, sweaty and musky, but the sinful sounds were well-worth the prize as you basked in them, in the taste of dick’s cock, the sound of peter’s grunts, the flutter of dick’s eyes when you gargled his cock again, deeper, the sweat dripping from peter’s forehead and body—the bedroom hailed of sex. it rocked of brutal creaks and slams as both of your holes were violated and filled to the very brim, all driven by pure lust.

after some time, they switched spots, tag-teaming so dick can have his turn at your hole. unlike peter, he was rougher, immediately pounding into you because he was sex-crazed about you, couldn’t stop thinking about you since day one of meeting you.

“fuck, better than i’ve ever imagined,” he laughed into your mouth, kissing you sloppily, and pulling away when peter’s cock impatiently wedged himself in between the kiss, and you were back to sucking and jerking off cock again—no complaints. “still so tight, even after peter fucked you so hard…”

“it’s like he was made to be a whore, right?” such vulgar language from your best friends broke the original portrayal you had of them. now, all you could think about was how they wanted to absolutely make a wreck out of you, de-blossom your naive thoughts of what your first time should’ve been like.

it wasn’t what you had imagined. it was supposed to be with one person. a full-time commitment to your relationship. a loving pair holding each other close when they both climax. it was going to be special.

but this… you thought to yourself as you were fucked into the bedsheets with absolutely no mercy, your ass pained and bruised from dick’s muscular hips driving into you every time he came down, harassing you in that familiar spot again.

this was… peter pushed on your bottom lip with two fingers to open your mouth, then spitting in the void, some catching onto your tongue, before shoving his swollen cock inside of you again, aching to touch—to fuck.

dick palmed your cock as you writhed, bent under him, moaned around peter’s long cock. he gathered all of his strength left to tickle you deep, to reach inside of you with his cock, breathless and panting with every thrust that rocked the two of you together—three, when peter fucked into your mouth.

this was so much fucking better.

“holy shit-“ under dick’s touch, you came hard in several thick ropes, all over his fist, and then the sweat of your body when he opened his palm. you were a natural shooter, accidentally spraying your face with your own thick semen, and you heard peter and dick moan in unison, in awe.

seeing you dressed in cum like this had them race each other to their climax. dick fucked you harder, his grasp on your hips bruising and white, while peter held onto your head and met your throat with his cock, repeatedly forceful in strength. you gagged around him, and they only benefitted from every sound you made.

“fuck, i’m going to-“ you watched peter’s abs flexed, tightened as his stomach pooled with pleasure, and you can hear the holy bells ring when he pulled out of your mouth, jerking his wet and slimy cock off until he came undone in thick spurts, all over your pretty face. not a single shot was missed, painting you in white like a canvas with every last drop.

you were still high off of your own orgasm, and you turned your head to watch dick fuck himself into you, clearly wonder-strucked by the scene before him. you were covered in cum all over. they beckoned him to join, the many loads on your body. they were begging now, a mantra of pleas pulled him closer to you, and he can smell the sex off of you, inhaled peter’s musk as well, and again—those holy bells rang.

with the speed of lightning, dick pulled himself out of your abused hole and climbed over to kneel over your chest, fucking into his fist while simultaneously jerking his cock off over your face. to your cum-covered body, to peter kissing his spunk off your cheek and chin then your lips, to the taste of your own cum when you swiped a load off your chest and fed it into dick’s mouth. he suckled, bittersweet salt spread over his tongue, and he was ravished by the taste of you.

dick then pushed his hips out and aimed his cock over your lips, still connected to peter’s for a messy kiss, stroking until the only reason he tore his gaze away was because his lids fell heavy, ceased his sight to roll his eyes back, and came with a shudder. thick ropes of cum inked on your face and peter’s, but most of it fell to your connected lips.

“fuck, that’s hot…” dick muttered, rolling his shoulders back while he milked himself to you and peter making out, cum-stained and all. you moaned at the taste, saltier than yours and peter’s, and peter does the same while scraping a load of warm cum from the corner of your cheek and into his mouth before kissing you again, swapping the gloopy residue with a sloppy exchange of tongues.

he was envious, watching how the sticky load caught onto your lips then peter’s when he squeezed himself dry. before you and peter could take all of his cum for yourself, he leaned down to join peter for a kiss, stealing the mound of cum that peter has expertly hidden on his tongue. dick didn’t know who he was tasting anymore. but whether it was you, peter, or himself, it was delectable, and he wanted to share the delightful taste with you. he spat the mixture of cum and spit inside of your mouth before webbing his lips to yours, sealing it with one final breathless kiss.

“so, are lessons still on for next week or?” peter lay by your side, and dick joined the other, still dizzied from his high as telling by his shut eyes and drawn out pants.

“i mean… i’m still up for it if you guys are?” you said, leaning over to press a kiss to peter’s cheek. you took his smile as an answer and looked to dick for his.

“mm... yeah.” dick sleepily opened his eyes, his locks stuck to his sweaty forehead while he buried himself under the blanket. you felt his arms wrap around your waist once he got comfortable, muttering a kiss to your shoulder before dozing off.

“we’re good teachers, pete.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

6K notes · View notes

pendragon-writes · 10 months

Text

A Drunk Spider

Male!Reader x Drunk!Tom!Peter

Requested: Yes

Fem aligned DNI, this isn’t made for you please respect my boundaries

"God dammit Pete, I told you not to drink so much, and look where it ended you up" you muttered, carrying your drunk Peter on your back as he softly giggled. One of his friends called you letting you know that he was drunk and needed to be picked up and you not an asshole of a boyfriend agreed to do so. "H-have I *Hiccup* ever told you about this amazing guy that I'm dating?" he giggled once more after finishing his sentence. You decided to play along and see where this was headed. "No, I haven't, enlighten me drunk Peter."

"Well, he's about your height, and he's-" he stopped himself to giggle once more. "S-sorry, he's such an amazing guy you know? He's sweet to me and still supports me after finding out about me being Spider-man and, oh wait I'm totally not spiderman, pretend I didn't say that okay?" "Sure Peter, my lips are sealed," you replied, making a zip motion to your lips.

You continued to walk with him clinging onto your back, with how drunk he was he clearly couldn't tell who you were, which was surprising considering he had a more robust system due to his spider bite. "How'd you get this drunk anyways? I thought your system was stronger cause of you know, your spidey thing." In response, he groaned and hid his head in your shoulder. "I guess I'm not getting an answer after all." You muttered with an amused sigh. After some time you both arrived at your shared apartment, it was a struggle, but you managed to take off his shoes, the main struggle was Peter not allowing you to take off his clothes and change him into sleepwear. But never the less you somehow managed.

When you finally got him in bed and tucked up, lay by his side as you gently lay your hand on his chest, sighing in amusement as you looked at him. "My boyfriend he'll get upset if he sees you touching on me like that on my chest." He said in a sleepy tone. "I am your boyfriend." You replied as you looked at him with a small smirk. You could swear you could feel his heartbeat pick up as a small blush formed on his face, whether it was from the alcohol still in his system or embarrassment, it was hard to tell. "Sup." He said, before fully falling asleep. You looked at his peaceful face for a few minutes before turning off the bedside lamp, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead before you too fell asleep.

AN: Sorry this was so short but I finally managed to finish it!! Hope you like it.

#tom!peter x male!reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker #tom!peter x m!reader #tom!peter parker x male!reader #tom!peter parker x m!reader #peter parker x m!reader #male reader #x male reader #male!reader #x male!reader

230 notes · View notes

clarks-letterman · 2 years

Text

desirable | doctor!peter parker x gn!reader

a/n — the pictures are so mismatched but i don't have a gif and they all work separately for the fic so yeah- mishmosh pishposh motherf*ckers <3 (this is a jokey but veryyy smutty fic i wrote to get out of writers block)

summary — Infatuated by the doctor treating you, you return with feigned sickness.

words — 2.9k

warnings — SMUT! 18+, throat-fucking, blowjobs, sexy peter parker

~~~

The office was stuffy, or maybe it was your throat swelling, with a scratch that only stuck out when you tried to speak. You scheduled an appointment within an older practice run by renowned Doctor Bruce Banner, who you had little confidence in since he could hardly understand things about his own body. Not that you would discredit someone of his intelligence, but he struggled to control his body at levels of extreme emotion, and dealing with any sickness is never something calm to bear through. He prevailed on your previous visits; that was the only reason you remained slumped against the wall of the waiting room chairs, fighting congestion and an endlessly parched thirst.

After a little while, a nurse in lime green scrubs called your name, prompting you to stand, and followed her into one of the few patient rooms once she checked your height, weight, blood pressure, and temperature. On your first visit, you were surprised to learn about the scarcity of rooms, only to realize that their sizes were far more massive than what would be required for a human-sized head specialist. The bed you sat on, paper crinkling on even the most trivial shift of your body, took up only a fraction of the room it occupied. The other side of the room had a desk and a chair that faced the wall, both oversized to fit Banner's frame but made the computer, keyboard, and mouse sitting atop it look like little playthings. To the left of the bed were a sink, a few hanging otoscopes to check your ears, and some other things you didn't recognize. To your right was the door the nurse walked out of, and no less than five minutes passed before a doctor with a deeper shade of green scrubs entered.

It was a pleasant surprise to learn that your doctor would not be the Hulk himself but a younger male in hulk-green scrubs who had only recently started working for Doctor Banner. Banner was nice but not always careful, especially with his large, discolored fingers. You were happy that he wouldn't be the one to lay a hand on your throat since he could probably crush your larynx with the jerk of a sneeze. Your new doctor didn't seem as friendly as the big guy, though, seized in a look of shock—possibly embarrassment—as he laid eyes on you, then fumbled with his clipboard. It almost fell to the ground but miraculously clung to the tips of his fingers, and he caught the board. He kept his head low and buried, busying himself with your information, hushedly repeating it aloud.

The doctor's face was pale aside from the flush of ignominy, possibly from the same bug you contracted somewhere around New York, though you figured he happened to not get enough sun. Judging by how he carried himself and the awkward chipperness in his voice, you suspected the latter. Yet he filled out his scrubs rather nicely, tautly stretching over his chest and struggling to hide his bulk for someone potentially sun-appalled. It was like he chose a size down from his typical day apparel to tempt his patients, to keep them engaged with whatever boring medical jargon he was most likely to spew out after giving them a diagnosis. You had to admit, it worked.

His short, chocolate curls looked like they had been on the receiving end of many pushbacks with a shaky hand as if he was excessively nervous. He had a simple complexion, easy on the eyes with warm brown hues that challenged the depth of rich soil. His nametag coruscated in the light; black, blocky lettering printed across the laminate—Dr.Parker.

Silence loomed over the room, only backing away when you let out a few sputtered hacks from the back of your throat. A simple coughing fit to others, but it felt like a raging war broke out for the millionth time today on your sore inner muscles. That's when he looked up.

"Sorry I didn't introduce myself. Doctor Parker, and you must be . . ." he hesitated momentarily, scanning the clipboard again—was he that forgetful? His index finger followed the pages of your file before halting, and he spoke your name without his eyes leaving the inky letters. The way it rolled off his tongue felt different than how other people said it, like the set of his mouth was meant to twist and twitch with every syllable. "And a sore throat today, huh? That's gotta hurt."

"Kind of," you said, being courteous about how it hurt to swallow and that it felt like someone was constantly ramming something stiff and sharp down your throat each time you tried to eat the softest foods on the shelf. Doctor Parker moved over to the chair, taking a seat in it. You watched how the backing of the chair reached halfway up to the back of his head when he finally got comfortable in the seat, looking more like an excessively sized dog bed, significantly passing his spread legs. He took ahold of the mouse that filled out his hand—appearing to be more than a handful—and clicked open a few programs until he entered an alterable document. It was complete with information about your previous visits.

"What symptoms have you been dealing with?" he asked, hands resting on the keys underneath the monitor, his beautiful face illuminated by the blank, white screen. You told him about the troubles this illness brought but kept it brief to save your throat the pain later. After you relayed everything to him, his intent ears never missing a slurred or misspoken word, he moved on to diagnosing you.

He got out of the comically-sized chair and drew near. Cold hands met your warmed, overheated skin. "Definitely swollen," he muttered. Only a few words slipped from his mouth since he entered the room, and you hadn't even learned his first name, yet you happily listened and waited for more of his spoken thoughts. If your throat was back to normal, how he held it would have been much more evocative. Was he aware of the effect he had on his patients?

At first, his hands were gentle, like a deer carefully watching its step on an uneven meadow, but they had a growing bite as he started to press into your swollen lymph nodes. The force elicited a painful noise past your lips and a harsh "Ow."

His hands backed away immediately, retreating safely to his sides, and that's when he looked up to your face. You were sure it flushed at his worried glance and not from the sickness.

"Sorry, it's my first day on the job," he half-heartedly apologized.

"Really?" you asked skeptically. Maybe that was why you never saw Doctor Parker before now; he was new.

"No."

"Nervous?" your throat rasped.

His cracked lips stretched, hiding any anxiety he took out on them and forming a brief smile, "Yeah, uh, something like that."

The doctor refrained from putting his hands on you for the rest of the visit, asking you how the infection made you feel and what you noticed during the past few days of dealing with it. He concluded it to be tonsilitis and prescribed a healthy dose of antibiotics that would hopefully kill the infection thriving in your throat. They did their job and had you feeling better within a few days.

From the view of your bathroom mirror, opaque-white lights cast visibility over your throat. The pain was gone, but the handsome doctor's touch never left, his pale hands turning a true translucent as you felt the ghost of them linger. You needed to go back for the resolution, but finding a reason to return would be difficult.

. . .

"Back again so soon? Guess you missed me," Doctor Parker remarked as he came through the door, realizing that you sat on the table in the same position as last time. "Still sick?"

You nodded, rebuffing words out of fear that the first one to slip out would sound unscratched by your throat, harmonious and smooth.

"Did it get worse?" You nodded again. "Okay, huh, open up for me? Sorry, please." The doctor heard how it sounded out loud and took the opportunity to make banter with himself where you couldn't. His hand rose and followed your jaw, his thumb glossing over your chin as the rest nearly missed his touch from the last time. With your mouth open, the tip of his flashlight clicked, and out came the light pouring into the darkness. "You sure the medication didn't work? Still feels scratchy?"

You nodded—again. His hands slid down, two fingers on either side of your throat, feeling around for swelling and unwanted masses. Unfortunately, his touch didn't last long, as he pulled away with a look of certainty.

"I've seen enough. I'll call in for a prescription of antibiotics to kill that lie you're committed to."

Your voice slipped, mistakenly asking in a less husky tone, "What do you mean?"

He pushed the chair away from the desk, the tip of his toe sweeping the ground to swivel him around. "I don't want to catch a case of lying, but I don't think I could because you're not sick."

You let your voice return to normal, no longer feigning malady, "How could you tell?"

He stood, leaning against the tall desk. He folded his arms over his scrubs and scrunched the forest green cotton and rayon, "Your throat's gone down, and, obviously, I prescribed the right thing. Top of my class and all. Why did you do it?"

You trapped yourself in here, and there was nothing else to say but the truth, "I . . . think you're hot?"

"Wow, that's a new one—and a relief. Usually, the patients I see more than once have made-up names and appendages I can't even describe—you'd have to be there! And they always try to . . .kill me."

"What?"

"Hey, don't spin this around on me. I'm the one asking questions, here," he mirrored, uncomfortably shifting away from the desk. "How could you make it up to me?"

The question lingered like the newly raised hand to his chin to signify the thoughts running through his head. Your head started to conjure ideas of what exactly he would do. Doctor Parker didn't seem mad when he learned about the reason behind this contrived visit, but maybe it was how he handled things. He kept calm and probably already called security or would ask you to leave, from what you could assume.

After a few moments of deliberation, he dropped his arms by his sides, "I think the best thing to do, is to give you a taste of your own medicine, yeah?"

With his elbows bent, his hands dug up the hem of his shirt and to the waistband stretching over his flat stomach. The hulk-green elastic slid up to the thenars of his hands with nowhere to go but down, thanks to the pressure he applied, the band easily giving way to reveal his partly defined Adonis belt. It was prominent, but the lines looked as if they were lightly sketched on what was otherwise a perfect sculpture.

"What are you doing?" you had to ask as if it wasn't obvious. His thumbs showed through the outline of his pants and a thicker, more pronounced, and lengthier silhouette just further down. You knew what he wanted; he only had to say it.

"Doing what you want, playing doctor and patient. Today's checkup involves a laryngoscopy—throat examination, if that was too confusing," he spoke as if he was in control but still had the consideration that his soft-leaning look won you over with on your first visit. This time, you saw his hardened and more defined side as he finally let his pants drop to his knees. No underwear. He was confident in a way where other people wouldn't know unless they were close to him.

His cock stood tall, and his balls hung low with enough to push the limits of whatever it entered and was sure to create enough of a smack with each passionate hip-rock. Lengthy enough to reach all the right places, but not enough to go where it didn't belong. A couple of tugs with his right hand later proved the second half of that untrue as he grew even more excited.

"You're gonna have to lay back," he waded near you, half-pulled-down pants restricting his steps so far. With a single hand, he maneuvered you with impossible strength, only ceasing his hold when you were on your back, head titled over the foot of the examination bed. The table paper's end crinkled in your ears.

The fluorescent tubes casting light from above were shadowed by his figure stepping into the frame of your flipped world view. His smooth and defined thighs blocked your peripherals. In only seconds, the dry head of his cock was at your gated lips. He hastily spoke, teasing, "Say, ahh. I'll make it nice and sore, just like you need."

Your lips brushed it as they parted, "Aren't you supposed to make me feel better?"

"This is for me since you wasted my time. Don't worry, it'll only hurt a little," he left you with that, suddenly entering your mouth, lips conforming to the girth.

Your tongue felt the topside of his cock; the small ridge where the wide tip ended, and the length and all of its scattered veins began. It was tasteless, bland, and made even more uninteresting since the doctor took his sweet time. The only thing that saved it and provided excitement were the soft noises he made. He had been talkative up until now, but you still knew how he felt. His moans were enough to discern it. He spewed out hushed 'ohs' and pants, which seemed odd as he was less than halfway in your mouth. That was enough to tell he enjoyed it so far, but you wondered about the distance that far away could be. When he didn't have to guide himself into you anymore, the hand holding his hefty length moved to grip the table—tightly. You could have sworn you heard the metal creaking with the pressure.

His cock snaked forward, earning a sharp gluck once he reached your throat. Then, you convulsed, body shaking at the unnatural mass invading your mouth, lips sputtering around him. He sneered in delight, his own set of lips breaking the set of his face to form a smile. His slow pace stopped when a light tracing of hair grazed your chin, balls low enough to brush your nose. Your throat jutted, his head showing from the outside as a small peak in the middle, made more apparent by how your head was titled back.

Slowly, it began to sink and rise as he started to rock his hips. He started to pick up a pace, burying himself until there was nothing left to hide and reeling it back moments later to rest just short of your lips. Every now and then, he would make you swallow his cock for longer than a few seconds, causing welled-up spit to pour from your mouth and onto him and your face. At a certain point, he broke his rhythm, withdrawing all of himself from your wet encasement. Slicked in spit, his gorgeous length glistened in the fluorescent white.

"Feel good?" You could hardly stutter it out, jaw aching at the corners.

"Yeah, it feels great. Nothing wrong with it so far, but I'd like to consider a re-evaluation."

Familiarity washed over you, the same feeling as moments before returning with more wants. More needs. To your surprise, the hand on the examination table keeping his thrusts steady now rested around your throat. The doctor yearned to feel himself piercing you, putting his breath-taking looks into a literal sense. And he did; your throat unwillingly bulged with his deeply buried cock. An unregulated series of appearing and disappearing beneath his palm and wet noises coming from your spit-filled cavern.

After a few more globs of spit well up and spill from your mouth—making all the noises that were expected along with it—the doctor needily stated that he was "going to come." No less than a second later, warm white poured down your throat with no other option except to be swallowed.

The doctor pulled away, a mixture of release and slobber slicking his cock. He waded to the sink, reaching for a few paper towels from the dispenser to wipe himself off.

You sat up, wiping a hand over your mouth and nose to clear off some of his sticky come and your spit, "What about me?"

"What about you?" He laughed at the end of his return. Once he had fixed himself up to act as if the past twenty minutes had never happened, he went to the computer and took a seat on the oversized chair, like last time.

As he tapped away at the keyboard, he informed you about the changes to your medical file, "I'll put myself as your Primary Care Physician from now on, but Doctor Banner might want to see you soon. I think he'll have a new stress reliever."

933 notes · View notes

tomurderornottomurder · 9 months

Text

if we could just pretend; peter parker

pair. ceo!peter parker and male!reader

summ. peter reunites with an old friend. his old friend is a recovering drug addict. his old friend doesn't recover.

gen. angst, fluff, hurt/no comfort

wc. 8.8k

tw. death, drugs, addiction, overdose descriptions, blood, injury descriptions, decomposition descriptions, body descriptions from drug use, alcohol, guilt, food/eating mentions

note. can you tell i'm clearing out old drafts? song is if we could just pretend by flatsound. this has been sitting in my drafts forever and also this is the longest oneshot i've ever written. this has been two years in the making simply because i forgot it existed and got stuck several times and i did not know how to end it, so please enjoy and feedback is appreciated. as it's been sitting, my writing might show some of it's age but overall, i think it's solid. lastly, disclaimer that i have never dealt with drug addiction myself but have been around people who have so if anything is incorrect please let me know so i can improve/change it.

Where did you go, and what did you do,

With all that time, you too scared to move?

"I really appreciate this, Pete." You slap a hand on his shoulder, "I promise to make it up," You point a finger at him, "and you can hold me to that, alright?"

"You don't owe me anything, you know that," Peter replies, holding one of your bags.

The elevator dings and you step out. Peter's penthouse is extravagant and honestly just not like him. "Holy shit," You mumble. "You sure you live here?" You turn to him with raised brows.

Peter laughs softly, "I've got a few spare rooms so let me know which one you like best."

You throw your arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek. "Peter!" You drop your arms to wrap around his torso, "Ah, thank you so much."

Peter freezes up as his face turns bright red. He drops your bag to reciprocate your hug and rubs a hand up and down your back, "It's no problem." He's forgotten how affectionate you can be.

"You're the best, Petey!" You give him a squeeze before pulling away. You laugh softly, "Sorry 'bout the kiss, I'm just so excited! And oh my god have I missed you!" You wrap him into another hug and squeeze.

"Can't breathe," He mutters.

You pull away and put your hands on his shoulders, "Sorry, man."

"Well, I hate to leave you but I'm going to be late for a meeting. I should be back soon, feel free to explore."

"You sure?" You quirk a brow at him, putting your hands on your hips.

"Definitely. Enjoy yourself,"

"Oh," You laugh as Peter heads to the elevator. "Peter Parker, you have made a mistake giving me such freedom."

He just laughs, "Don't burn the place down." He flashes a smile before the elevator doors close.

You twirl around in amazement, "You have really outdone yourself, Pete." You tour each room and finally pick one down the hall from Peter's. You unload your things and roughly set up your room to keep yourself busy. You explore the penthouse to get an idea of the layout and your mind piles questions up to ask Peter later. Out of pure curiosity and boredom, you peek into Peter's room. You smile at the light blue walls and vintage, framed posters. You take a step inside to get a better view and quirk a brow at a discarded bra on the floor. "Oh," You mutter. What have you been up to Peter?

"I'm back!" Peter announces, stepping out of the elevator.

What is it like, to be by yourself, for three and a half years

For roughly three and a half years

"Welcome home, Pete." You smile at him. "So, what's on the menu?"

"I'll just cook something," Peter shrugs, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it up. "What do you like?"

You shrug, "Anything you cook, I'll probably eat."

"Great," He flashes a smile but you can clearly see how tired he is. He rolls the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows as he strides into the kitchen.

You follow Peter into his kitchen, taking a seat at the island while he sifts through pots and pans. "So, the famous Peter Parker doesn't have a personal chef or something?" You rest your head on your hands as you lean your elbows onto the island. You watch Peter as he gracefully pulls out ingredients and prepares them.

"I like cooking," is his simple reply.

"For your lady friends?" You smirk.

He cranes his neck in your direction with wide eyes, "What?"

You laugh, "I saw a bra on your floor. Is it from a girlfriend or a mistress?" You bite your lip to hold in another laugh as you watch Peter become more and more flustered. This is the Peter Parker I know.

"I don't have a girlfriend or mistress," He points a pan at you. "But it's probably from a one-night stand," He shrugs, turning back to his stove.

"One-night stand? Is this my Peter Parker who couldn't ask out Liz Allan or Mj? How's Mj doing by the way?" He really has changed.

"She's in Europe right now,"

"Good for her," You reply. "But back to my point, since when has Peter Parker been a one-night stand kind of person?"

He shrugs, "I grew up I guess."

"Being rich turned you into Tony Stark?" You chuckle, looking at him with pure adoration. He shakes his head with a low giggle. "Onto my next line of questioning then," You get up from your seat walking to his side. "You have alcohol?" He points to a cabinet. "Great. Now that wasn't my question," You reach up and grab some alcohol of your choice. "Why do you have so many paintings?" You lean onto the island, alcohol in hand.

He shrugs, "I enjoy art." He starts throwing ingredients into a pan.

"Are you okay? Did your meeting turn to shit?"

He quirks a brow and looks at you as he tosses in more ingredients. "Why?"

"You're kinda snappy today. You can tell me what happened," You grab the bottle of alcohol and offer it, "and have a drink."

He sighs, "Sure, pour it." He throws in a few more ingredients before pouring a bit of vegetable oil.

"Anything special?" You ask, grabbing a glass from a cabinet. He shakes his head, focusing on his cooking. You smile and decide to whip him up the same thing you had when you got him to drink alcohol for the first time. "This is a classic, Peter Parker. And frankly, if you don't recognize it, I'll be offended." You smile at him as you mix his drink.

He chuckles and shakes his head before turning his attention back to cooking. His mind is all over the place, especially with you here and by his side, he needs to focus on his cooking though.

"We make such a great pair," You start as you finish pouring his drink. "You can cook and I mix a mean drink." You slide over his drink and start downing your own. You sigh, leaning onto your hand and watching Peter. This is a nice moment, a nice break from the hell of your life.

Silence takes over the kitchen with the only noises being the moving of glasses and sounds of the food cooking. Peter's entire focus is on his cooking while your mind wanders. You watch him for a bit before momentarily drawing your attention away to refill your glass every so often. You think about how much he's changed since high school. How he's still the same yet vastly different. How your worlds greatly differ and how lucky you are for your path having come across his again.

"Peter," You start -a bit too quiet for your liking- with your throat burning, guilt coming up just like puke does. "Peter," You repeat and this time your voice is at a volume you like. "What did you do?" You ask this too quickly. You catch how vague the question is and expand further, "I know we weren't the closest and we still aren't and I'm sorry but what did you do? What did you do in those years I was gone? I know I didn't keep in contact like Mj and everyone else did- and Ned stayed here so-" You cut yourself off. You're rambling too much. "I shouldn't have left like I did. No contact, not even a text or DM. That was shitty but I want to know what you did? What did you do by yourself?"

Peter turns to you with a soft smile but you can feel the sadness behind it. He really doesn't know what to say. "It's okay, you know?" His head is tilted down but his eyes peer up to look at you. "It's okay that you left," He wants to assure you and hope he does. He can't be sure that he's reassuring though because he's not sure the words he's using are right. "By myself," He mumbles to himself but doesn't realize it. He sighs before explaining what happened after graduation, how he graduated college early, and lastly how he inherited some of Tony Stark's company and started his own.

"God," You shake your head after Peter finishes. "I wish I could say the same," You chuckle sadly. Your mind wanders back to before now, before college, just at the beginning of the disaster that your life is.

If we could just pretend, that I went to college

And that is why you, you haven't seen me

Your future looked bright. You just graduated and were sorting through college acceptance letters. Peter was doing the same with his Aunt. You really wanted to go to a college out-of-state; you'd lived in New York forever and wanted to branch out. Not only did you want to attend college across the country but you planned to study abroad; hopefully the college you chose to attend had one of those programs. You needed a new adventure and sure there was always something going on in New York with all the battles and things but you needed to be the adventurer.

Your first weeks of summer were spent thoroughly vetting the few colleges that truly spoke to you. You were planning to visit each campus, even one with Peter though he was set on attending school near his home. It made you kind of sad to think about; you and Peter were set on different paths. But you knew Peter would keep in touch; he never broke a promise. He was good like that, such a good person, such a good friend.

---

Two weeks into college; things were rough. You liked- well, no. You loved it. A new atmosphere was really what you needed. It's just that starting over is hard. You knew no one, had to navigate campus virtually by yourself, and classes were difficult; nowhere near what high school was like. It was exhilarating, too! So much to learn, so many people to meet, so many opportunities. You were honestly so caught up in all the newness you had forgotten about Peter; obviously, you knew he existed, and every so often something would remind you of a memory you had with him but when he texted and called, you never answered. You were just so busy and every time you checked your messages, it was late and you didn't want to bother Peter; you were sure you'd get back to him soon enough.

A year had passed before Peter stopped texting and calling. You didn't blame him and soon he completely left your mind. He hadn't been new enough for you and the guilt of this still burns in your chest.

Two years in and you were abroad in France. The country was beautiful, the people were interesting, the nightlife was exciting, and the drugs... the drugs were out of this world. The drugs took off the edge, they helped you forget, and they came in handy to crank out assignments. Well, that's how they started off, that's always how it started.

It wasn't long before you were in a week-long bender and lost in France. While high, you dropped out of college in a short, curse-filled phone call. You had missed your flight back to America anyway. From then on, you went spiraling further and further. Your mind was a blank slate and France held no consequences. You weren't native to the country and whatever happened there would stay there. You could abandon the country and fly home and forget it all ever happened. At least you thought you could.

I wanted to go, but not for this long

"Why can't you? What happened?" Peter asks as he slides a plate over to you and takes a seat next to you. He's truly worried, he hasn't seen you in what feels like forever and he just wants to know. He wants to be able to help someone he used to and still holds so close to himself.

You shake your head. You can't tell Peter what happened; there is no way you won't throw up if you do. You shrug and twirl the pasta Peter had made around your fork. "Well, I didn't graduate, unfortunately," You bite your lip. Fuck, I think I'm going to cry. Your childhood dream of graduating slipped through your fingers and all you have to blame is yourself.You choke down a sob before continuing with a chuckle to cover for yourself, "But hey! At least I got to get out of New York and I even went to France!" You beam at him before trying the pasta he's made you. Filling your mouth with Peter's wonderful cooking helps to stave off the sobs and quiet the burning sadness within you if only for a little bit.

"You can always go back," He proposes. "That's what Mj did," He adds, looking up at you with that bright smile of his.

That smile sends you back to high school and all the good times you had with Peter. Your heart is full, swelling, bursting at the seams. This is a good feeling, you miss this; feeling good all over, your whole body filled with goodness. "I guess," You shrug. "But it feels like it's too late." The statement is one of defeat and both Peter and you know that. You gave up so easily and you can only hate yourself for it.

"It's never too late," Peter beams at you again.

You can't help but smile back before replying, "I mean-" You sigh, "I guess I could but money's kind of a problem and I don't know if I can do the whole uh, going to lectures and mingling thing." You want to believe his words because some small part of you does but it's too real for you to face right now.

Peter wants to act laid back but he quickly replies, "I could always pay for it. I- I wouldn't mind at all," He suggests. "And if you want, we could sign you up for online courses! You could um," He bites his lip. Should I? And he does, "Stay here and attend your classes." It was hopeful and a stretch but Peter wants it. He misses you. He is worried about you. He doesn't quite realize it yet but now that you are back in his life, he wants to keep it that way; to keep you around and more importantly, keep you safe. He can't lose you again, that's too real for him to face.

You don't know what it is. Maybe having someone care for you is too much. It is terrifying. It's even sickening in a strange way. You really haven't kicked your addiction yet and it is so easy to get drawn back in. You wish it weren't but it just is. And now you're lying on Peter's living room floor, foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and reaching out for someone who isn't there.

I overdid it

Well, Peter is there. He steps out of the elevator but he doesn't see you right away. Your body is blocked by his sofa but your coughs and gurgles fly over it. Peter's ears perk up and his spider-sense starts going crazy. He dashes and then jumps over the couch. He kneels beside you, his eyes wide, mouth going a mile a minute as he tries to say something- anything coherent. He quickly calls 911, holding your hand throughout and swiping his thumb over the top of your hand. He assures you that you'll be fine and keeps repeating that he's there.

Soon enough sirens flood the building and paramedics stampede into Peter's loft. Yelling and screaming ensue as Peter screams, fighting to stay by your side while police and paramedics yell. Three police officers have to not only drag Peter away but hold him down as he fights relentlessly to stay by your side. He just wants to know- he needs to know that you are okay. He can't lose you, it's too real.

As his body and mind calm so do his thoughts. His mind explores the possibility of him getting in the way of paramedics saving you and so he gives up, letting the officers restrain him with ease. But his mind wanders further and further. How did you get drugs? Why? Did he do something to set you off? What had he done?

Of course, none of his thoughts hold any truth but the possibility that they could, begin within Peter a ceaseless torrent of tears. He's sure by the time you leave the building and the police finally let him go, he could fill thirty pools with all the tears he's shed. But there's no time to dwell on his thoughts, he has to get to the hospital and be at your side! He won't let you leave him so easily, not again.

Why did you say, that I was one in a million?

Everything's been a blur. This moment now is blurry but you are present within it. Peter is sitting at your side, slumped over in a chair, one hand holding yours and the other holding his forehead as he mumbles curses to himself.

Slowly, you turn your head and unknowingly squeeze Peter's hand. In an instant, he's looking up at you and your eyes are open staring back at him. He could just scream! "Y/n," Your name rolls off his tongue and out of his mouth breathlessly, desperately. You both hold each other's gaze and each other's hand. The moment is blurry but it is nice.

"Peter," You whisper back, voice sore and croaky. You squeeze his hand again, it says more than your words ever could.

The pooled tears that have been swimming next to Peter's eyes finally fall and flow down his cheeks. Most tears follow the red paths down his already tear-stained face, a few divert creating new paths for the seemingly endless stream of tears. "I-" His voice and his pain catch in his throat. What can he say? What could he possibly fucking say?

"Why did you have so much faith in me?" You have to ask. You have to know. And you assume by now he has lost all that faith and so you must phrase the question the way you do. Your chest and whole upper body hurt like hell. There's a burning near your heart and in your throat, there's a tightness strangling your throat and crushing your ribs but the look Peter gives you hurts much more. The guilt within you burns hotter than Hell could ever be imagined to.

Because I believed it

You lean into Peter and Peter into you as he helps you walk out of the hospital. At the very moment that your foot hits the pavement, rain starts to fall, pelting you both in a way that can only be seen as some divine punishment. Even so, to you, the rain is heavenly and a respite from the thick cleanness and infuriatingly boring white inside the hospital. Peter quickly slips his jacket from his shoulders and carefully pulls you closer to him before covering both of your backs and heads with the jacket the best he can.

He rushes with you to the passenger side first, letting you slip into the seat he closes the door for you. You watch him only for a moment as he reaches the driver's side. You keep your head down, looking at your lap, and unwittingly begin to pick at your fingers. Your nerves are through the roof now more than they ever were in the hospital. At least in the hospital, you can expect Peter to be mostly calm but now you don't know how he might act. He's changed so much after all this time and who's to say he won't scream and yell at you? You swallow down your nerves as you hear Peter plop into his seat next to you.

Surprisingly and thankfully, the car ride is quiet. The rain pelting the car helps to ease your mind if only for a bit. You allow yourself a quick glance at Peter. His expression is almost unreadable if not a bit sad. Quickly, you turn away before you can start crying yourself and watch as cars and people and buildings pass you by.

Peter's mind is swirling with thoughts and question after question bounces around in his head. He wants to ask so many things but he can't and he knows that. He doesn't want to make you feel worse than he knows you're feeling right now. He just wants to let you have this time and hopefully, you can gather your thoughts enough to answer him when you're back at his loft. The whole time he drives though, his knuckles burn white as he grips the steering wheel too tightly. There's a tension that won't leave his body.

---

You two reach the building and before Peter reaches your side of the car, you step out, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, head held down as rain pelts the back of your head. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The pelts of the rain help you keep a rhythm as you silently curse yourself and demean yourself with names. Each drop of rain against your skin serves as an insult your brain must deliver to itself. It isn't going to help but it does make you feel better. All the while you've been standing just outside the car, Peter has pulled his jacket over himself and motions for you to come under. You shake your head and trail a foot or two away still following him.

In minutes, you reach an entrance into the building and Peter holds the door open for you. You step through the threshold, head still down, and arms still wrapped around yourself. It's almost as if you were to move your arms away, your body would simply fall to pieces. Peter is at your side in a moment and you continue to follow him into the elevator. You both stand awkwardly and shivering a few feet apart as your clothes and body drip rain onto the marble floor of the elevator. This ride is as silent as the car but has a more threatening ambiance.

The elevator dings and Peter motions for you to go first before he follows. "You should take a shower," He proposes quietly.

It must have been some coincidence because right at that moment a shower is exactly what you crave. You nod at him, following him to the nearest bathroom. You try to peel your shirt off while Peter fetches you some towels but you have no luck.

"Do you need any help?" Usually, he would be asking this in a teasing manner but the words could not have left his lips any sweeter than they just did. His voice is quiet and calm, a little wavering but not so much as to cause concern. He's still shivering and dripping wet himself yet he stands there looking at you with such kindness.

You nod, "Please."

He shuffles to your side and slowly peels your shirt from your torso. He lifts it slowly, softly asking you to put up your arms. He gets a quick glimpse of your bones just barely being held behind your skin and bruises littering your torso. His face is close to yours as he pulls the shirt over your head and you can feel his breath. One more moment and he is pulling the shirt off of your arms. He gets a glimpse of the bruised injection sites on your arms and has to hold his expression. "There," He smiles, looking into your eyes.

"Thanks," You immediately cross your arms back over your chest, both from the cold and embarrassment. God, I probably look like shit.

Peter hasn't seen you like this since high school gym class and even then it was rare to catch you without a shirt on.

"I've got it from here," You tell him and he nods before closing the door.

Peter lets his mind wander to high school gym class. You hated it so much but Peter needed it. He had so much energy and he needed an outlet. That was of course before he had become Spider-Man and then he joined in on your hatred of the class though, he always did better than everyone there.

He wanders into his room to change before grabbing a towel to dry his hair as his mind wanders to a vivid memory of one of the only times he had seen you shirtless back in high school.

The class had gotten done swimming and everyone was out of the locker rooms, except Peter who had to do extra laps and had just gotten out of the pool. He dried his hair as he walked over to his locker but stopped in his tracks when his spidey sense started to go crazy. He looked in every direction but there wasn't anything he could see. A few more steps revealed you, sitting on one of the benches, your shirt laying in your lap and a towel wrapped around your waist.

That did catch Peter off guard but there was another thing: you were crying. Peter's stomach twisted in knots as he looked down at you. Suddenly, your eyes were on him. Shit! Why hadn't he said something? Now, he just looks creepy!

"Peter?" You asked in a hushed tone. You had looked like you'd been crying for a while. Your whole face was red along with your eyes, you looked terrible.

"Y/n," He returned your tone. He took a few steps forward and bent down a bit. "Are you okay?"

You shook your head. You were in no mood to avoid your feelings. You hurt and you hurt bad. "No," You answered bluntly.

Peter took a seat beside you. "What happened?"

The memory isn't the most pleasant but he remembers how after that you stayed at his apartment for three days and that seemed to have done you good. He wonders what happened to the Y/n he knew back then. He doesn't feel any differently toward you, not at all but what happened to you to make you so miserable now?

He finishes changing and drying himself off and steps out into the hall. At the same time, you step out of the bathroom. Peter meets your eyes and walks over. He looks you over and smiles, you have a towel tightly wrapped around your waist and a towel thrown over your head. "Here," He places his hands on top of the towel at your head and dries your hair.

You stand there, heart beating wildly as Peter helps you dry off. You notice his change of shirt and before fully thinking about it, reach out with your hand to slip it under his shirt before rubbing your thumb over the top of the fabric. You're sure Peter already saw the marks littering your body and right now you just didn't care. You want to feel his shirt and that's all you want.

Peter stiffens as you have a hold of his shirt. Your fingers aren't touching his skin since you hold the shirt out a bit but they did for a brief moment and the tingles it sent up his spine are unlike anything he's felt before. He accidentally stops drying your hair but continues as soon as he realizes that he's stopped. He sets his eyes upon you and it's a good thing you can't see his face. Anyone could see right through him at this very moment and pinpoint where his thoughts are.

He finishes drying your hair with the towel and slides it behind your head, letting the towel rest on the back of your neck. For a moment, he holds each end of the towel toward himself and he can't meet your eyes now. His head is down but he is looking at you.

Your head is down but you're looking at him. Your eyes dart from your hand still holding his shirt to the pecs you can just make out underneath his shirt. This is a moment of safety, of home, of tenderness, of friendship, of love. There's a silent agreement between you two and so, for the time you separate. You go to your room to get dressed as Peter goes into the living to wait for you.

"It's cold, isn't it?" Peter asks as you settle on his large couch. You nod and Peter sets a blanket over you. "I've got some hot chocolate on the stove," He knows that's your favorite. "It should be done soon."

I thought i had something that you

Were too scared to lose

You nod again, wrapping yourself in the blanket. "Thanks," You whisper.

He takes a seat next to you with his own blanket wrapped around his legs. He swings his legs so they rest on the couch and leans in, his shoulder touching yours. "What's on your mind?"

He genuinely wants to know, what the hell? You let out a deep breath and lean your head against his shoulder. "I was just thinking about high school. We used to be so different. I used to be so different. What happened to me?" You turn your head and stare into his eyes.

You don't know either. "I-" He's at a loss for words. "Whatever happened," He pauses and places his hand over yours. "It's not all bad." He smiles at you before standing. "Hot chocolate's ready," He says before walking off to the kitchen.

You start picking at your fingers again as you wonder what you're going to do. You can't rely on Peter for everything, that's just not how you are. You didn't even have any money after blowing what little you had on what you OD'ed on. God, why are you so stupid!? Peter's nice enough to let you crash at his place and what do you do?

"Hey," Peter's presence pulls you from your thoughts. "Here," He bends over as he hands you a cup of hot chocolate. He takes his seat next to you again, sitting a bit more straight this time so as to not spill his drink on you. "'Thinking about something?"

You nod, "Yeah, just..." You bring your cup to your cheek and bask in the warmth. It's been too long since you've truly felt any warmth like Peter's been showing you this whole time. "I can't stay with you forever," You muse, flicking your eyes to his, unsure of what he might say.

Peter chuckles, "Well if you want to, you can." He flashes that boyish smile of his at you and it hurts. His eyes and nose crinkle and his features are so bright. "I said it before, Y/n. I'll do anything for you."

God, that hurts. He cares about you too much. "Peter," You stop him in his tracks. He shouldn't be saying stuff like this. He needs to protect himself from you. "Don't say that." He's too attached, you can't let him be this attached.

Peter's soft expression turns puzzled and he turns to look at you. "Y/n?" He's looking at the side of your face while you keep your gaze straight ahead. "If it's about staying with me, I can get you your own place. I know-"

"Peter," Your voice is stern but tinted with softness as you cut him off. "I've got to do this stuff on my own."

"No," Peter protests immediately.

"What?" You sit up straighter now, looking at him deadly serious.

"You don't have to do anything alone. If it were me, you would say the same! I won't let you be alone with this." He sets his drink down on the coffee table as he continues to speak passionately. "I love you, Y/n." It's a confession masked as a friendly gesture of affection. "You're my friend." This covers his tracks though he wishes he didn't have to cover them in the first place. "I'm going to take care of you." It's the truth and it's real and he means it.

You can only look at him in awe, utter awe. He's serious about this.

"I-" He starts out confident but falters. Should I really say this? He catches the thought and tosses it aside. His confidence is back, only a bit less than before. "I can't lose you."

Something in you wants to slap him. He can't lose you? What the fuck!? You hold yourself back, hands tightly gripping your cup. You hang on his every word. Just what is he thinking?

Peter sighs, looking down momentarily, shaking his head. "I don't want things to be like before. I want to see you and be around you; I want to know that you're okay. And I want you to be happy."

You swallow his words and let them digest. They don't sound bad, at all. But there's a knot in your stomach and a scribbly, black haziness in the back of your mind setting off alarms.

Peter leans in as he says, "There's nothing wrong with asking for help." He sits back again, "You don't even have to ask, I'll just do!" He reaches out for your free hand, "I'm here for you." He gives your hand a small squeeze. "Just let me be here for you." It's a plea and it's all he can do.

Peter's greatest fear is loss. He's lost so many people in his life already he surely doesn't need to lose another. But losing you isn't exactly his main concern, it's seeing you live up to what you've always wanted, it's letting you chase your dreams and catching them, it's waking up every day with some real purpose, it's seeing you change for the better. His concern is you. His concern is your life. His concern is your well-being. His concern is your happiness and fulfillment. His concern is your recovery. And his concern is your change. He's lost you once, he won't lose you again.

It was all in the past now, you had nothing to be scared of. The road ahead is fruitful with opportunity. Peter is by your side. You're recovering. You can handle this. You've got it.

So if we could just pretend that I went to college

And traveled abroad, and did something different

Things go well for weeks and weeks, it feels as though nothing bad has ever happened before. But something sets you off. You see something on the street and return to Peter's loft as you cry like a maniac. You feel foolish for breaking down like you are, crying as hard as you are, and being unable to move from Peter's living room floor as you are. And even worse, Peter comes home.

He's taking off his coat casually as he normally would until he hears your sobs, then he rushes to your side. He rests his hand on your back and leans in close to ask what's wrong.

Your body refuses to let you answer and so, you just cry as he sits there before slowly pulling you closer and into his lap. He pets your hair and smooshes his cheek against your forehead as he quietly whispers. You two sit like this for about an hour before you finally calm down.

You try to wipe your tears away as fast and as best you can as you quickly crawl out of Peter's grasp, sudden and overwhelming embarrassment coming over you. "Please," You beg with your head held down, trying your best to keep Peter from seeing your face. "Can we just forget this all happened?" You're bent over now almost like you're praying even with your hands clasped in front of your head as your eyes though closed are pointed toward the ground. "Pretend I'm not some massive loser that wasted his life when you- you were here doing great things and I was just-" You sigh loudly, your head finally collapsing against Peter's floor. "Please," You cry out as tears start flowing heavily and you can feel a sob start to rack through your body, "please."

Your head hangs, chin pressing against your chest. Your eyes feel hazy and you can't see much. Your back is pressed against the cool brick of the wall behind you that you can barely feel due to the thick sweater and bloated jacket that warms your torso. Your legs are out in front of you and you laugh at their strange longness. You look at your feet next, the shoes they're adorned in, and how they too look strange and funny to you. You start laughing more and more, finding everything oh-so-funny.

Anything but just sitting at home

For three and a half years

Writing song, after song, after song

Your arms now look as if shooting targets were made out of Swiss cheese. The holes only seem to get larger and darker, like the darkness could swallow your body whole if you weren't careful. And you weren't. Your eyes had always been dark but now they were pits, black holes of nothingness, no knowledge held there, nothing, just nothing. Your face is sunken like the tar roads in the summer, always sinking deeper and deeper or like the deep trenches of the sea where something terrible lies. Your lips are chapped like the hands of the working man, skin always peeling off, and never able to be quite comfortable because they are raw and red and always rubbing against each other. You're as thin as a needle, legs barely able to function as you walk bone on bone, the grinding like that of teeth against teeth. Speaking of teeth, yours seem to keep falling out, leaving your mouth pouring blood flowing like the divine wine of Jesus.

Where was Jesus now? Not here to save you. Your Jesus, your divine savior, Peter Parker is far away now, not because he chose to be but because there is nothing else he could do, nowhere he could be, not for you. And you chose your new savior, it was not him. It used to sting your arm but it doesn't seem to do just that anymore. It helps you ascend but not as long as it used to. Your belief is starting to wane but not quick enough, not quick enough.

So what is it like to be by yourself

The elevator dings as Peter reaches his loft. He steps out with his coat hanging off his arm. The place is quiet, the only noise being made by Peter as he hangs up his coat and steps into his kitchen. He opens his cabinet, the grip on the little knob staying far longer than it needs to before he opens it and lets the knob go. He reaches up just like you had on your first night. He grips the bottle tightly and sets it on the counter, it makes a noise too, a sort of clinking sound almost. He grimaces as he grabs the neck of the bottle and opens it, the smell stings his nose as he brings it close. His lips kiss the bottle and he swallows some down.

The bottle accompanies Peter to his large and lonely couch, his tight grip around its neck, carrying it carelessly. He takes out the DVD that you left, your favorite movie, he's careful with it as he sets it in the DVD player (something you had ragged on him for not having when you were first there). (Something that he hadn't used since, not until today). (Something he would probably never get rid of now, only being thrown out when he was dead). He stumbles back over to his couch, falling onto it not as clumsily as he could manage but enough to shake up the alcohol in him. He extends his arm, pointing the small remote that came with the thing at the television and pressing play. His arm falls against the couch as the remote leaves his fingers, finding a new home in the arms of the faithful couch.

He watches almost angrily, there isn't anything like it, this emotion Peter feels. Is it really anger? Contempt even? Surely, not toward you. But the drug, toward the drug. ...Right? Or was he even angry? Hateful maybe. Toward you, toward the drug, toward himself. What was this that he was feeling? It's like an ache with no name or possible description. Empty isn't the right word. He's not hollow inside, he's all filled up, some even splashing out of him but what is it? What is this substance, this feeling, this emotion, spilling out of Peter Benjamin Parker? What is this thing that spills past his lips and fills up his head? Is it... you...? Surely not, that's ridiculous!

Peter doesn't notice until now, too focused on the movie he's seen far too many times, but his hands are trembling. His knuckles are a soft red, his veins are all in place, those little clumps of blueish-skin-pigment below the reddened knuckles, his fingers long and intermittently pale the ends a bit darker than the rest, all shake in chorus. He flexes his fist, bending his fingers and splaying them out, then he checks again. They shake just as much as they first did.

And not feel like you'll die around everyone else?

Your hands were shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. It's almost exhilarating, they shook like they did when you first shot up. It was heaven. This was cloud nine. You were in paradise, lost in it. Your head was delirious, your eyes were bleary, your lips trembled as much as your hands, you were about to lose it all and all you could think about was how great this high was. You were about to die outside a house, just on the steps, of a den of drugs, a place filled with people dying just like you were about to, and all you could think about was how great this high was.

Quickly, your thoughts shift to how awful this was. Your body lost control. You fell. Your head split against the concrete of the makeshift porch. Your back fell into the stairs that sat on either side were two dying drug addicts. Foam spilled past your lips and for a brief moment you thought of Peter then you were back to focusing on dying. You couldn't control your body. Your eyes would not work with you to see. They were gone now, they no longer wished to see the world. Your hands wouldn't do what you told them to. Your ears were ringing, there was so much noise, noise, noise! Why couldn't there be quiet!? Everything just needed to stop for a second, so that you could get a grip on things. You would set things straight. You wouldn't be found in places like this anymore. You would die somewhere resectable. But death doesn't care about respect, for him, there is no respectable place to die, and you are just another soul to be collected. Indifference is his gift but the indifference of the junkies you died next to led to searching through your pockets and hands all over your body and privacy violated and nothing left on you but the things they didn't care for. Your ID, some crumpled note you'd shoved deep into your pocket, a few too many wrappers for too many different things, and something else.

I thought I was one in a million

The distant clattering of silverware and private conversations set the stage as Peter sits across from a fine, young gentleman. He holds a menu in front of himself, his hair slicked back something you had told him made him look handsome you had said, his feet nervously sliding back and forth. Words come out of the gentleman's mouth and everything starts to fade out like watching a movie as your eyes blink more and more before you fall asleep.

It didn't go well whatever that was. A date, Peter supposes, an awful date.

Peter holds a large bouquet of red roses. The dark red is contrasted by the white plastic that wraps around them. He holds them with both hands. He shifts his shoulders uncomfortably, his lips moving awkwardly against each other. His stride isn't really a stride, rather a walk but a quick one, like he has somewhere to be. A date perhaps?

Well, thanks for nothing

Peter's stride leads him into a cemetery. He passes headstone after headstone, a few full-on statutes, and some grave markers. The roses are strange in his hands in this cemetery. He shifts his grip on them a few times. His collar feels like it's choking him and sticking his finger under it hasn't done anything. His thoughts don't consume him this time like they usually seem to do; some are seething, others are sad, most are guilty, and a lot are what-ifs. Never helpful, those what-ifs. Peter accidentally passes your grave before stepping back.

He reads the engraving as he always does before taking careful steps over. He sits above your dead body (that's buried several feet down), in front of your headstone (that stares back at him like a gargoyle), and underneath a weeping willow (that he wished he could see you under, not like this, not like this). "Well," Peter starts, setting down the roses, "he was allergic to roses." He sighs. "I miss you." He leans over, resting a hand on top of your headstone and closing his eyes.

He talks some more and if anyone were watching him, they might think he was having quite the conversation with a headstone. He moves his hands and looks at the headstone like a person, making eye contact with it, maybe even willing it to respond. It never does. And it never has. It's too bad you didn't have a spirit, you might have sat underneath that willow, leaning back against it, and watching Peter just for something to do. But you were dead and that was that. There was no coming back from being dead. Your body was buried beneath the earth and now you belonged to her.

Peter groans as he gets to his feet, "Well, buddy," He rests his hand on your headstone, patting it almost like you would a dog, "I've got to get going. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" He pauses, not intentionally but he lets the silence hang in the air in hopes he might get a response. He never gets a response. There is no satisfaction or catharsis for him, only the silence of the whistling wind and the whipping of the willows as they reach as far off their branches as they can. Maybe if he hoped hard enough, one day he would get that long-awaited response and you wouldn't have died for nothing.

Peter's lids are heavy as he tries to blink away sleep. This never works just like all those other things. He always falls asleep; you never answer him. He just wishes you would answer him. Peter's eyes close rather quickly this time and nothing matters but the dream he can feel is real and he feels apart of it.

Thank you

Peter's hand reaches out as you fall, your fingers graze his. He can see the desperate look in your eyes like a dog begging for its life. Your eyes are not only desperate but terrified too. (Like a dog that knows it's going to be put down, he thinks). Some noise comes from you, some words but his ears can't decipher them, like everything in his dreams they are distant, blurry, and unmemorable. He just wants to know what you're screaming. He can see the extension of your jaw, the crinkling and wrinkling in your face, and the raise of your brows but he still can't hear what it is you're saying.

Then the scenery shifts. You slipping past his fingers is no big deal as you fall onto a hospital bed. You look at him all tired like and puppy dog kicked. You are worn out and bruised like a dropped fruit or a childhood blanket. You look like you might be molding. Your face is sunken in, your eyes hauntingly dark and blank, the flesh of your nose beginning to rot away, and the plush of your lips gone now replaced by the hard, cold warning of your teeth. You're missing a few and your gums are starting to turn yellow. Peter can't save you. He can't do anything. He watches as you rot. He tries to leave the chair he's stuck in but he can't, his arms won't even lift off the sides. He can't get to you. You're so far away.

Before your body can fully decompose and shift into sand and fly away in the wind, again, the scenery changes. Paris. He can really only recognize it by the Eiffel Tower. You had talked about it before. A lot. Before you left. Before what happened, happened to you. Peter wanted to go there with you. He never got the chance. At least you had seen it yourself. He finds it strange that he stands in Paris but he can't see you ...like you're gone. But then everyone is screaming and there from the clouds falls a body. Your body is falling, your arms are spread out, and you're limp like a fish. In seconds, your back is pierced by the spire of the Eiffel Tower. Killed by the very thing you love. Or loved. Or did you even love it all? Did you just talk about it?

There is no time for Peter to process seeing someone he loves getting killed right in front of him. He's in an alley now like the one you died in. There are homeless people and drug addicts, drug dealers, and you. You stand there like an angel with your skin glistening thanks to the sun and despite the grime in the air. Peter can't take his eyes off of you. He doesn't want to anyway. He needs to see you like this, happy and aware and bright-eyed and in good standing with life. He can't bear the reality of flesh and bone and blood and six feet underground. It's always been a flaw of his. Feeling those that are dead are not really, not really. They still linger, he feels them, he can't see or hear them but he knows them. He can feel the brush of fingers against his back or the jostle of his loose curl. They live within him, just outside of him, in his fingers and feet and the way his eyes move follows them though he can't really see them there.

A blood-curdling crack stops everything. In a moment, you're lying on the ground with blood running from your forehead down past your chin and drip-dropping against your neck. And Peter is down on his knees in front of you, holding your torso, pulling it up onto his lap, and he holds your head like a kid holds a teddy bear. He strokes your hair as you gurgle up blood. He can't do anything for you. He's stuck. He's not allowed to save you. He is not allowed to save you. You did not need saving. He didn't know what you needed and neither did you. With your head in his arms and his nose pressed against the line of blood down your forehead and your limp body against his thighs, he rocks back and forth, whispering things he doesn't know and you can't hear. You'll be okay. I've got you. I won't leave you. You can't leave me. You will live through this. And your dead, limp body is not motivated to live.

And there you lie, next to him in his bed, your head turned toward him, and you're smiling. The sun shines on both of you; Peter can feel it on his skin. Like being kissed by a god. Like being kissed by you. He's a cat in a sunspot and you're stretching out toward him. Your fingers brush against his cheeks and you're smiling at him. He fills your vision; Peter can see his reflection in your big, beautiful eyes. He wants to kiss you and you move closer. Your eyes stay on him the whole time, if it weren't so beautiful, it'd be unnerving.

You're on top of him now. Your hands -fingers and palms- caress his chest, trace his collarbone, feather down his ribs to his hips. He shudders under your touch. He wants it again. He wants it real. He doesn't realize it isn't yet. On all fours, over Peter's body, you lean down and kiss him. It holds, lasting long enough for him to hold your cheek and to satisfy him if for a fleeting moment. You pull back, your eyes staring into his; he's in love. (You're not real). Your hands trail down his chest again as you sit on top of him. You're just looking at him.

And when Peter turns, now awake, he's alone; you're not there by his side. He reaches out across the sheets like you would reach out if you could. Poor Peter, he doesn't know.

#murder writes #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x m reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x m!reader #peter parker you make me sad

56 notes · View notes

sacharinee · 11 months

Note

hi m!!! what do you think about bf!pete getting his wisdom teeth out? and the reader taking care of him?? hed be so funny lmao xxD

-🧸

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader w/c: 750 a/n: hi anon!! thnk u for requesting i had sm fun writing this! :)

you’re sat at the dentist's office, cooped up in those uncomfortable chairs while you anxiously waited for your boyfriend’s surgery to finish.

when peter ranted and moaned nonstop over his constant toothache, may decided enough was enough, and took it upon herself to set an appointment for her nephew. he wasn’t too keen on the idea. peter wasn’t afraid of anything ninety-nine percent of the time. dentists, however, wasn’t one of them.

“can’t you stay here with me?”

“stay? baby, no they’re gonna be drilling in your teeth.”

“but i-”

“and it’s gonna be bloody and nasty and i don’t wanna have to see all that.”

you turn towards him, only to come face to face with the boy’s horrified look, his eyes are wide and skin pale, mouth open in shock. you cringe at your response.

“but,” you stand, “you’re gonna do amazing, you’re gonna sit here and let the dentist do his magic.” you smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead.

“y/n/n, wait but-” you drop his hand on the way out, “bye, love you baby! be good!”

“y/n!”

two hours later swing by when a woman in navy scrubs comes to get you, announcing that peter is out of surgery.

you knew that he would be high out of his mind on laughing gas, you just didn’t think it would be this bad.

when you enter, the dentist is off to the side, looking over charts, packing a care bag for his patient.

peter’s head lulls towards your touch on his shoulder and slowly blinks at your presence.

“hi baby, how you feeling?” you give him a beaming smile.

your boyfriend does his best to muster the same grin, but the amount of gauze in his mouth makes his rosy cheeks puff out, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth.

peter takes a moment to stare at you, “woaahh” he languidly slurs his words, “you’re so pretty.”

you giggle at the comment when the boy gasps in horror, “wait, wait, i have a girlfriend, and she’s-” he looks up at you worriedly and slaps his forehead, “i’m in trouble.”

you can’t help but let out a laugh, he’s so dopey.

your fingers touch the bottom of his chin gently and lift his head, “i’m your girlfriend, silly.”

a loud gasp escapes peter as his face turns ecstatic, “get out!” you giggle at his reaction, the dentist glances over at you two and offers an admiring smile.

“so do we have sex?”

the awkward silence in the room kills you.

your face blushes, as you shake your head and clear your throat, “peter, no.”

“no?!” he sighs in disappointment, “aw man.” your boyfriend pouts at the floor, “what have i been doing with my life.”

“oh my god, pete,” when the dentist turns away, you whisper and offer him a shrug, “sometimes we do.”

the delight on his face returns and his eyes go wide, “really?!”

the boy seriously has no filter.

as you’re packing his things, peter pauses and pokes his cheeks, “wait y/n,” he pauses, “my face kinda feels weird.”

you look around and hand him a mirror from the counter, “oh my god…” peter gingerly touches his face as you kneel down at him, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“my face… it’s so fat!” he’s got tears in his eyes and whining with a jutted bottom lip, “y/n,” sniffle. “will-” sniffle. “will you still love me if my face is so fat?”

you roll your eyes and smile at his antics, “of course, i would.”

he seems pleased with your answer because he’s back to smiling. you go back to packing his things. “hey, mr dentist,” he woozily slurs, the gauze is practically spilling out his mouth, “d’you know i’m spider-man?”

you mentally facepalm at his obliviousness and mutter, “jesus christ.”

you turn to the older man who’s chuckling at his mental state and shrug, “he also thinks he’s luke skywalker from star wars.”

“but i am!-” “okay bug boy, lets go.”

“where we going?”

“home, sweetie.”

he gasps eagerly and raises his eyebrows at you, “to have sex?”

“oh my god.”

soon after the dentist explains and hands you everything he needs to recover, you guide peter to the car.

he’s extremely dramatic.

he’s got his hands around your shoulders, dragging himself on the floor, acting like he can’t walk - which he definitely can.

“peter, i know you can walk. c’mon help me out,” you beg.

“no, i can’t" he moans, "carry me,” he demands.

“what? no,”

“why not?”

“because you’re too heavy.”

and he’s crying all over again, “i knew it! you hate me 'cause you think my face is too fat!”

5K notes · View notes

croimilis · 1 year

Text

private show

title: private show

characters: peter parker x stark!avenger!reader

rating: 18+

words: 8k

theme: smut, porn with minor plot, a little sweet moment between reader, shang-chi and america

warning: smut, filthy smut, alcohol. titty job, oral (m and f receiving),hair pulling, praise, thigh riding, fingering, nipple play, reader has nipple piercings, p in v sex, unprotected sex (please assume some type of other contraception is used), multiple orgasms (both m and f), cum swallowing, peters a bit of perv, mentions of birth control, creampie, dom!peter, confident!peter, cum eating, cum play, peter calls reader ‘princess’ maybe a little too much, soft!peter, aftercare, a little bit of subdrop

summary: “turn down the lights and watch my private show”

you notice peter has an obsession with your tits, so you offer to give him a private show

tags: @xoxabs88xox

a/n: all characters are 18+ (specifically 21 as there is drinking mentioned), this was meant to be short and sweet, but i’m slowly learning i cannot do anything in moderation and it is most definitely the most filthy smut i have ever written

He was staring again, his eyes following you throughout the room from the moment you entered. You could feel them burning into your skin as you walked, greeting various benefactors and members of the Avengers with you arm wrapped around Tony’s, to be specific you could feel them burning into the skin of the cleavage you had exposed in your deep cut dress where the ‘v’ almost reached your belly button.

It wasn’t the first time you had noticed Peter staring at your boobs, it was one of many over the last couple of months and you were sure he was staring long before it came to your attention and you don’t know how you didn’t notice sooner. After all, Peter Parker was not discreet in any way shape or form outside of his role as Spiderman.

When you first noticed it was soon after you had gotten your nipples pierced, much to your fathers horror and everyone else's amusement as Tony freaked out about his ‘sweet innocent little angel falling into temptations’ despite knowing you had not been innocent since the age of 16 when you asked him to go on birth control specifying why (he looked like he was ready to drop dead at that very second while Peper just looked on with an amused smile).

Given the pain of the piercings, you were reluctant to wear a bra for the first few days and instead floated about in loose tank tops and camis that were just tight enough to show your new piercings but not enough that it would hurt. This particular day, you were sitting at the kitchen island of the compound just scrolling on your phone as you waited for Tony and Bruce to be finished in the lab because you were supposed to be heading out to lunch with your dad.

As Peter walks into the kitchen, you flash him a smile and give a small “”hey” in greeting before turning your eyes back to your phone. Peter on the other hand could not keep his eyes off you no matter how hard he tried. In general, Peter thought you were stunning, this complete otherworldly creature that he could only describe as heavenly and he was completely and utterly infatuated from the moment he saw you all those years ago when he first joined the Avengers at the young of age of 16, that was 5 years ago now and he was still completely enamoured with you. Probably even more so now that he actually knew you as a person.

But recently Peter has become completely obsessed with a particular part of your body, he just couldn’t help himself. It seemed that every time you were around his eyes would drift towards your chest and stay there for much longer than was deemed polite, though he was sure that by even looking he was way past the point of politeness, and today was no different.

Especially with the way the bars of your new piercings were pushing against the fabric of your shirt, as if inviting him to have a look and he couldn’t look away, not as you greeted him, not as he leaned against the kitchen counter while eating the apple he had lifted, not as you tell him about the newest article about Spiderman and (hero name) and how there’s rumours the two are sleeping together or romantically involved and snort at some of the comments being made about the two of you, and not as Tony walks into the room to take you for your lunch. He prays to every god that could exist, including Thor and Loki, that you don’t notice the way his eyes suddenly snap up to your face as you give him a goodbye, like all the other times he stares he hopes you don’t notice.

But unlike all the other times before, you notice this time. You had actually looked up from your phone for a split second to try and read Peter’s expression as you tell him about the news article you were reading and had noticed that while he was listening, he was focused on something other than your voice and he was not being discreet about it with the way his eyes lingered and a light flush dusted his cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

Instead of questioning him, you simply smirk and look back down to your phone, a small blush spreading across your cheeks at the attention. After all, similar to Peter, you harboured an attraction to him from the first time you met at 16 years old but never thought it was reciprocated in any way but now you knew you were going to have fun with it.

After that you started noticing him staring more often.Like that one time after training with Natasha when you were in nothing but a sports bra and pair of athletic shorts, he seemed to be watching the way the sweat that had gathered on your body was dripping down between your cleavage with such intensity you could almost feel his gaze burning into our skin. That day you had to suppress a smirk and pretend like you were just getting a headache as Nat turned to you with a weird look and asked what was up, after all just because you knew didn’t mean everyone else had to know.

Or that time you were at an Avengers themed Halloween party some fraternity at your college was throwing and you had gone as Black Widow, taking one of Nats old cat suits and adjusting it to your body measurements to do so. Still, even with adjustments the suit was tight around your chest and squeezed your breasts together in a way that made sure they would be hard to miss. You had meet up with Peter (obviously dressed as Spiderman) and MJ (who refused to participate but still wore an Avengers t-shirt) at the party and immediately noticed how Peter’s eyes drifted to your chest before they bounced back to your eyes, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he stuttered out a greeting and practically choked on his own spit causing MJ to turn to him with a ‘wtf’ look and a “dude are you okay?”

You simply batted your eyelashes at him, inwardly grinning to yourself, and asked in your most innocent voice, “Yeah, Pete. You okay?” Peter swore he was going to die that very second had it not been for Flash (who was dressed up as Spiderman as well, though he claimed his looked more authentic despite the fact that Peter was simply wearing one of his old costumes) coming up and stealing your attention from Peter with a “(Y/N)! You’re looking great.”

---

There were moments like that scattered throughout the few months since you had noticed him staring for the first time, all of them leading up to this night and your choice of dress. Natasha and Wanda had helped you pick it out, a gorgeous black that hugged close to your figure and showed off all your curves beautifully with a deep deep ‘v’ neckline that showed of your tits like they were pieces of art to be shown off, Tony had nearly had heart failure when he had seen you in it for the first time a week earlier as he walked in on Pepper adjusting the length for you. Which to you, meant it was absolutely perfect for what you wanted it for.

Your eyes roam around the room for a bit, your arms wrapped around Tonys as talks to another benefactor and Admiral Simpson or something like that, you had stopped caring three Admirals ago, looking for Peter. When your eyes finally meet his, you smile and excuse yourself from the conversation to go and join him at the large window showing off the lights of New York below.

Peter is standing by himself, occasionally bringing the beer in his hand to his mouth to take a sip. These events weren’t really his scene, while Peter loved a good party he hated the formality around the Avengers events and so he usually kept to himself and relegated himself to a corner of the room where he could nurse a beer the whole night and just watch as the party slipped by him. Sometimes you joined him in his corner, bringing cheesy jokes and conversations that kept his mind busy, other times the two of you would escape and he would take you swinging around the city and you would end up sitting on some random rooftop his suit jacket wrapped around your shoulders to fight of the cold as you ate some of the best pizza greasy New York had to offer.

It seemed this night you decided to just join him, lifting a champagne flute from the tray of a waiter as they passed you by and downing its contents in second leaving a red residue behind from your lipstick. You stand in front of him, a small smile on your face as you do so and greet him with a gentle “hey” that he reciprocated, though you have to stop your smile from turning into a smirk as his eyes moved down your face and across your body, fully taking you in, lingering a little too long on your chest.

As Peter greets you, eyes quickly snapping up to meet yours, you let out a small chuckle and reach a hand out, wrapping it gently around his wrist and slowly moving it up her arm as you lean close to his ear, your chest pressing against his lightly as you do so.

“If you like staring at my tits so much, why don’t I give you a private show?” You smirk to yourself and bite down on your bottom lip, you were so close you could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks as the blush spread across his face rapidly.

You remove your hand from his bicep, slowly trailing it up his shoulder as you walk behind Peter, your chest now very flush with his back, you keep going your hand now gently wrapped around Peter’s neck as you tilt his head upwards so he’s looking at ceiling and you lips are right beside his ear, “Meet me in my room in 30 minutes”

You would go now, but the party had only started and as the daughter of the host it would be rude of you to not make the rounds, have at least 1 drink and socialise a bit with the other avengers, and maybe just maybe you wanted to torment the poor soul just a little. You remove your hand from Peter's neck and fully turn away from him, instead facing the bar and you smile at Natasha, who was behind the bar as usual much preferring to work at these events than have to socialise and who was already preparing a (preferred drink) for you.

As you approach, she cocks and eyebrow and gives you a sly but questioning look as if she knew exactly what you were up to., placing the drink down on the counter in front of you. “What are you doing that poor boy?”

You simply roll your eyes and lift the drinking, bringing it to your lips, eyes ghosting over to where Peter now stood in shock with a bright blush spreading across his cheeks and his head whipping from side to side to make sure no one else had seen what had happened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Nat.”

“Uh-uh, as if you couldn’t cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a butterknife.” You snort at her comment, leaning your back against the bar and placing your elbows on it as well for extra stability in your heels as Nat leans on the bar at your side, arms crossed over the counter and her head tilted towards you, “Just make safe choices, we don’t need any little Iron Spiderlings running around.”

This time you roll your eyes at her comment and down the rest of your drink, your eyes finding a very nervous looking Shang-chi and America being hounded by a bunch of benefactors who want to know simply everything about the pair, well more specifically about what they could do. You push yourself of the bar and turn to Nat to place a kiss to her cheek, “I always make safe choices Nat,” Natasha rolls her eyes at you as she leans into the kiss and you give her a cheeky smile as you make your way over to the nervous pair and the five or six benefactors surrounding them.

“Okay, why don’t we give them some space to breathe?” The benefactors all turn to look at you at the sound of your voice, your eyes are narrowed into a glare, your face hardened and arms crossed over your chest, even if they didn’t know what exactly you were capable off and the fact that you could kill them all twice over in just a few seconds they would still be intimidated from your look alone, after all your glare could rival Medusas and turned most people into living statues as they stared at you in fear, a skill you have to thank Natasha for. They all gulp down their fear, shuffling away from Shang-Chi and America with nervous looks on their face and all muttering some form of “of course Miss. Stark” or “sorry Miss.Stark.”, preferring to use your real name over your hero name as if refusing to address you as your hero name gave them some sort of power over you.

You kept the glare on your face until the last of them disappeared out of your sight, instead going to bother some other members of the Avengers (probably Sam and Bucky) who would have no problem either entertaining them or telling them to fuck right off. As the last one disappears, you drop the glare and turn to Shang-Chi and America with a soft smile and nothing but kindness in your eyes. “You guys okay?”

America says nothing and just nods her head as she wrings her hands together nervously and Shang-chi gulps down his nerves and answers you, “Yeah..we’re…we’re good.” With a chuckle you realise they were scared of you and you reach out a hand to take Americas, rubbing soft circles against her skin as you do so to try and ease her nerves, “Relax, that look is reserved for those vultures and the press.”

Shang-Chi nods his head and you can see the tension leave his shoulders slightly, though not completely, and you can feel some of the tension leave America as she winds her fingers in with yours as a form of comfort. “Other then those guys, how are you guys?”

A shaky breath leaves Shang-Chi lips, “Nervous,” you nod along to him and hum softly in response, “Your first event is always the hardest, but you get used to them after a while and you learn how to tell those dicks to fuck off without feeling guilty about it.” America lets out a giggle at your words and you smile at her, she’s a sweet girl and being around the age you were when you first joined the Avengers you felt a sisterly need to look after her.

You spend the next 20 minutes just talking to the pair, calming their nerves and reassuring them that they were going to be fine. Every Avenger in the room had their backs and all it would take is one word and they would handle anyone giving them bother, especially Stephen Strange who had formed an attachment to America.

Once their nerves were calmed she started to get to know each other a little more, you talked about your mothers and how much you adored and missed them, Shang-Chi told you about Ta Lo and America told you about the Utopian parallel universe she was from and you spoke about the small cottage in the middle of nowhere your mother raised you in, surrounded by nothing but woods and nature, it was your perfect little corner of the world untouched by anyone else until she got sick. It was nice to talk about, most people you spoke to about your mother always showed sympathy and seemed to focus on the the loss rather than who she was as a person, but Shang-Chi and America wanted to know about her, about your life with her, not the grief, not the loss, but the good moments, the memories you shared with her and the love.

The conversation shifts quickly as Shang-Chi and America start to discuss some movie they had both seen that weekend, and you take that moment to excuse yourself from the pair as you notice Peter slip out of the room. You make your way towards the back of the room, skirting the edges and disappearing into the shadows as you do making it easy for you to slip out of the room without being noticed by most people, the only ones that do are Natasha and Bucky and they share a knowing look and small smirk before they turn back to their conversation.

---

As quickly as you slip into your room, you’re slammed against the cool metal of the door as it slides closed behind you with a hand roughly grabbing at your hips and another slamming against the door at the side of your face effectively trapping you against it. Your eyes instantly snap up to meet with Peter’s, his pupils blown wide and full of lust, you simply smirk up at him and bite down on your lip.

He’s so close, pressing his body against yours and you can feel the bulge that is barely contained by his dress pants pressing against you, can feel the rippling muscles of his abdomen as they press against your chest and his hot breath against your face as he leans in towards yu, yet still you want him impossibly closer to you. The desire that has been boiling away inside you these past few months finally bubbling over and igniting every nerve ending in your body, leaving you consumed by want, by need.

Your own breath starts to come out heavy and laboured as the desire begins to pull in your stomach, especially as Peter squeezes at your hips and slowly starts to move his hand upwards, ghosting over your torso and going higher and higher until his palm is barely touching the side of your breast while his fingers gently dug into your rips.

“I believe you owe me a show princess.”

You were used to the term ‘princess’ being thrown around when discussing you, usually by the press or by the people who thought you got everything handed to you by Tony since you were introduced to the world as his daughter at your 18 birthday. The people who called you princess used the word like a knife in an attempt to cut into you and see you bleed so they could inject their venom directly into your blood and turn you into the bitchy socialite they wanted you to be, that way they would be justified in their horribleness towards you.

But Peter’s tone did not hold any venom it, his voice had not be sharpened into a knife edge meant to dig into your skin, Instead it was honey rich and smooth and slipped off his tongue almost like a prayer, warming you from the inside and sending another pang of desire rolling through your bones.

Peter steps back from you, his arms moving from your side and waist but despite the absence you can still feel their lingering warmth through the fabric of your dress, and he sits himself down on the edge of your bed with his forearms against his thighs as he leans forward slightly and regards you with an intense, almost predatory gaze.

It sends a shiver down your spines and warmth to your core and the intensity of the look causes your hands to shake as you reach to the back of your dress and slowly pull down the zipper. You were deliberate with your speed, wanting to tease Peter just a little while longer and maybe a part of you was hoping he would jump to his feet and rip the zipper down himself. But he doesn’t.

Instead, as the slipper slowly moves down your back,you notice the vein in his jaw jump as he clenches it tighter and tighter. As the zip finally reaches the bottom, just above your ass, you let the sleeves of the dress fall from your arms which allows the fabric to pool at your feet, leaving you in only your heels. You stand there for a second, watching as Peter’s eyes widen at your bare form, after all the tightness of your dress did not leave room for panties or bra lines. His reaction causes a smirk to rise on your lips.

“You’re fucking stunning princess.”

You step out of the fabric at your feet, your heels clicking against the ground as you stalk towards him. As you reach him, his hands wrap around your bare thighs and he gives them a gentle squeeze as he stares up at you before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss against your hip. You cup your hands around his jaw, rubbing your thumb against his cheek as you bend down to place a gentle kiss against his lips.

The kiss starts soft but quickly turns heated as Peter grips at your thigh and causes a small gasp to leave your lips, which Peter uses to shove his tongue into your mouth. You moan into Peter’s mouth as he twirls his tongue around yours before pulling it back and biting down gently on your lip, one of his hands moves from your thigh and trails ever closer to where you need him most and he smirks into the kiss as he feels your wetness seeping down your thigh, the effect he has on you fueling his ego.

Peter pulls away from the kiss and pulls his hand away from your thigh, a light residue from the wetness on your thigh coating his fingers, “This all for me baby?”

You nod, not knowing where this confident side of Peter had come from but loving it all the same, “Yes Peter, all for you.” He lets out a hum and sucks his fingers into his mouth, savouring the lingering taste of you as he looks up at your flushed cheeks through his long lashes. You gulp at the sight, moving your hands from his jaw line and down onto his shoulders, trailing down his arms as you lower yourself down onto your knees in front of him.

You rest your hands over his clothed thigh and look up at Peter with lightly veiled innocence, your big doe eyes lust blown to the point that the [colour] of your irises were almost completely gone, eclipsed by the blackness of your pupils, and slightly parted lips now imprinted in Peter's mind and locked away somewhere safe for those lonely nights in the future where he will most definitely be touching himself thinking about this night. “Let me take care of you Peter, please?”

When you look at him like that and ask in that almost begging tone, who was he to tell you no, “Go ahead baby.”

With his permission, you’re moving your hand from his thigh and to the zipper of his pants pulling it down and then pulling down both his pants and boxers in on go, Peter lifting his hips slightly to make it easier for you, letting them pool around his ankles and you lick your lips at the sight of his cock bouncing against his stomach once its released from his boxers.

You keep your hands on high thighs and lean forward, your tongue making contact with the base of Peter’s cock and causing a groan to fall from Peter’s lip that only amplifies as you lick up to the tip and suck the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The moan Peter lets out is like music to your ears and encourages you to do it again, running your tongue over the slit as you do, before starting to bob up and down on his length.

You do your best to take him all in your mouth, but you struggle to do so, gagging as he hits the back of your throat. Your inability to take all of him in your mouth sparks an idea in your mind, one you're sure Peter is going to love. Pushing yourself up on your knees so you’re just that little bit higher, you lean forward and slot Peter’s cock into the valley of your breasts and Peter nearly faints at the sight.

Your pretty lips all swollen from the kiss and from sucking his cock, your pretty little boobs wrapped around his cock, its another image seared into his mind and stored away for later use. As you press your hands into the side of your boobs, tightening their hold on his cock, and start moving them up and down, the moan Peter lets out can only be described as unholy and it adds fuel to the already raging fire inside you as you clench and unclench around nothing and rub your thighs together for just a little bit of friction or relief, though it offers none.

You continue your ministrations with your tits, watching through heavy lashes as Peter’s face contorts in pleasure and he struggles to hold in the moans and groans that are falling intermittently from his lips, between words of praise about how good you’re making him feel and being such a good girl for him, you would admit it to no one (not even Peter) but his words went straight to your core and caused you to clench even harder around nothing.

You reach your tongue out, giving kitten licks to the mushroom tip and over his slit as often as you could between the thrust of yours boobs, causing Peter to throw his head back and pleasure and reach a hand out to grab at the hair at the back of your head, “Shit , princess… you’re killing me here.”

That’s all the encouragement you need to keep going, darting your tongue out and swiping across Peters head almost every time it gets close to your mouth, licking up the precum leaking out of the tip, and squeezing your boobs even tighter around his cock as you do so, another groan forces itself out of Peters mouth as his hand tightens in your hair, causing a moan to fall from your own lips. “I’m so close, you gonna let me cum all over those pretty tits of yours princess?”

“Yes Peter, please cum all over my tits”

The desperation in your voice, the almost begging tone lacing it causes Peter to lose his composure and control as he shoots rope after rope of cum over your chest as you continue to move your boobs over him, the cum spreading down the valley and up onto your chest with some even landing in your mouth on your waiting tongue that you had stuck out when he started to cum.

Peter pants as you let go of your boobs and sit back, his hand leaves your hair and instead cups your jaw gently in a stark contrast with how hard he had been gripping at the roots where he runs a finger across your chin to swipe up the cum that had hit against it. He taps his thumb against your lips and you open, sucking his thumb into your mouth and moaning at the sensuality of it. It’s another image Peter will have seared in the back of his brain for the rest of his life.

As Peter focuses on the image of you, on your knees sucking on his thumb covered in his cum, you swipe some of the cum of your chest letting it cover your fingers before you pull back of his thumb and instead suck your own fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them to get as much cum off them as you can. Your eyes are staring up at Peter’s through your eyelashes, watching as the irises almost completely disappear, existing as the smallest rings around the pitch blackness of the blown out pupil, when you pull your fingers from your mouth with a ‘pop’ Peter is quick to pull you into a rough kiss, instantly shoving his tongue into your mouth.

You moan at the sensation of his tongue massaging yours, reaching your hands up and wrapping them around his neck, rising back up so Peter’s not having to bend over as much, tangling your hands a little bit less than gently in his hair and giving it a gentle tug, which causes Peter to let put a deep almost animalistic growl that has you clenching your thighs together even tighter, the movement of which Peter notices and he’s pulls away from you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“You took such good care of me princess…” His hand ghosts across your thigh until he’s hovering over your core, so close you can feel the heat emanating from it, and then ever so slowly he runs a finger through your folds, pressing against your clit with the slightest pressure as he does so and causing a whine to fall from your lips because god was it the most heavenly thing you’ve felt recently but it just was not enough, “Now let me take care of you.”

He takes your arms in his hands, guiding you to standing before he strips himself of his blazer and dress shirt, throwing them to the ground somewhere in your room. He lets you go and sits back down on the bed, patting his thigh as an invitation for you to sit. It's one you take almost immediately, throwing on leg over and lowering yourself down so that the fabric of his trousers make contact with your bare cunt and rubbing so deliciously on your clit as you do, ripping a moan from your throat as you do. "You have such pretty moans, pretty girl."

Peter grips onto your hips, fingers digging in a way that was painful to the point you were sure they were going to leave bruises but also amplified the pleasure coursing through your veins. Peter starts to move you up and down his thigh, the friction of the fabric rubbing on your clit at a brutal pace sending shockwaves through you and causing you to throw your head back as moans continually fall from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” You nod your head and Peter tenses his thigh underneath you, bouncing his knee alongside it pulling another loud moan from your lips at pleasure overwhelms your senses, “Come on princess, you gotta use your words.”

You let out a whine at the sensation, the motion of the bounce putting delicious pressure and friction against your clit that has you almost seeing stars, “Fe-feels s’good Peter.” Your words slur together as pleasure overwhelms your senses. Peter’s grip tightens at your words as he moves you even quicker against his thigh, the coil in your stomach that had already been wound tight, tightens even further and can feel the cliff edge of your orgasm approaching so very quickly.

“Yeah baby? You gonna cum all over my thigh?” You nod your head, reaching your hand up to grip at Peter’s shoulders so tightly that you're sure you’ll leave behind crescent shapes from your nails or even draw blood. Peter groans at the sensation, his cock already semi-hard again from watching you unravel on his thigh, he never thought he would be in pain (he experience enough of it on a daily basis) but yet here you are proving him wrong with the way your hands had previously tugged at his hair and the way your nails are currently biting into his skin and causing his cock to twitch at the sensations.

“Go on then princess, cum for me.” There he goes again with that stupid pet name that you should hate but instead has you melting into him even further, your clit throbbing as it rolls of his tongue like liquid gold honey that seeps deep into your bones. Peter tenses his thigh once again and you feel every ridge of hard muscle under the cloth of his trousers and it sends you spiralling off the cliff edge you had been teetering on as your orgasm sends shockwaves through your body.

Peter watches your face as it contorts in pleasure from your orgasm wracking through your body, ignoring the wetness that had now gone through his pants and was coating his thigh, and he swears you’ve never looked more beautiful and another image is forever ingrained in his mind. His cock was now fully hard once again and twitching against his stomach begging for some kind of attention or friction, which he grants it by removing his hand from it and giving it a few pumps but it wasn’t enough, no, Peter was feeling greedy now. He already felt the bliss of your mouth and tits wrapped around him and now he wanted more, no he needed more. Needed to feel your pretty little pussy wrapped around him and squeezing him.

Peter makes a quick decision while you’re still coming down from your orgasm and wraps the hand still holding onto you around your waist and twists you both around so that you were now lying on the bed with your legs hanging of bed with your butt just on the edge and he was now kneeling down in front of you with both hands on your knees, holding your legs apart as he eyes up your soaking wet cunt.

It almost makes you feel self-conscious, almost has you trying to squeeze your legs closed but Peter's firm grip and his superhuman strength stops you no matter how hard you strain against him, you simply cannot win against Peter in a battle of pure strength. The self consciousness erodes away and the words of discontent that were forming on your tongue are replaced by a porn-staresque moan as Peter dives in and licks a stripe up your cunt and latches his mouth onto your clit. `The sound causes Peters dick to twitch against his abdomen.

He hums against your clit, the vibrations adding to the immense pleasure you were feeling, and slowly pushes a single digit into your weeping hole to start prepping you to take his cock. He pumps in and out of you, finger curling in and pressing against your gummy walls as he does, you moan at the combined movement and sensation of Peter sucking on your clit and feel the coil in your stomach already start to tighten once again.

Peters free hand trails up your abdomen with a featherlight touch that you barely feel over the pressure of him fucking his finger into you, you really only become aware of his other hand when he pinches at your nipple and pulls at the metal of the piercing, the pain melding in with the pleasure in such a way that your eyes are rolling to the back of your skull and you miss the way Peter stretched you out by entering a second and third finger into you.

The coil in your stomach is impossibly tight, tighter that it ever has been and yet you doesn’t snap as Peter releases your clit with a ‘pop’ but he continues the ministrations with his fingers, rubbing against your most sensitive spot with every thrust, “God princess, you taste absolutely amazing and feel so amazing clenching down on my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you clenching on my cock.”

The praise falling from Peter’s lips goes straight to your head and causes you to clench around his fingers even harder, he presses harder into your g-spot and pulls on your nipples once again causing a wanton moan to fall from your lips, the coil in your stomach starting to reach it’s breaking point. “You gonna cum again baby? Go on, cum all over my fingers and face.” Suddenly Peter’s sucking on your clit once again and your eyes are rolling back in pleasure as it overwhelms you and you see nothing but stars as your orgasm overwhelms your senses.

As you cum all over him, your juices squirting over his fingers and rolling down to his wrist, he removes his fingers and instead starts to lap up everything you have to give him, moving the hand on your nipple down to hold your waist against the bed as you begin to write in overstimulation of Peter tonguing your entrance.

The sound of a whine finally pulls Peter away from your pussy and he stands from where he was kneeling, your juices now coating his mouth from your explosive organism, you look angelic with your hair spread out in a halo around you and a blissed out expression on your face, eyes wide and chest rising up and down rapidly as you try and catch your breath. In between your breaths, you reach out to Peter and he gladly leans in, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down into a passionate kiss that is all teeth and tongue as you try and get as much of Peter as you can.

Peter is the first to pull away from the kiss and starts to trail kisses down your neck, stopping occasionally to bite and suck on your skin leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake. The sensations have you whining, desperate for more as your needy cunt clenches around nothing, “Peter…” Peter smirks into your skin and places a gentle kiss on your collarbone before he rises and stares down at you with a raised eyebrow, “Need you…”

“Need me where princess? Come on baby use your words, tell me what you want”

“Please Peter…I need to feel you inside of me… please please fuck me” Your tone is begging, a whine falling from your lips at the end of the sentence, and who was Peter to deny you when you sounded so pretty begging for him inside you. Peter grips the base of his cock and rubs himself along your fold, coating himself in all your wonderful wetness as a lubricant, as the tip of his cock catches on your clit you let out another whine and Peter smirks at the sound. “Peter…please…enough teasing.”

Peter lines himself up with your entrance and looks up at you for confirmation and as you nod your head he slowly slides himself in, letting out a low groan at the sensation of you stretching and clenching around his cock. It's a groan that is drowned out completely by the moan you let out. Peter moves so slowly you can feel every part of his cock as it rubs inside of you, all the veins and ridges all piling onto the pleasure you’re experiencing and as he bottoms out inside you you let out a small, pleasurable whine.

You have never felt so full before in your life, no other partner you had filled you up just as much as Peter does, and it felt absolutely amazing. With Peter spending time prepping you to take him, you barely feel any pain and it takes only a second of Peter being fully sheathed inside you before you start beginning him to move, it’s a request he’s glad to fulfil as he slowly pulls out before slamming back into you and starting an almost brutal pace.

As Peter thrusts in and out of you at a rapid pace, you wrap your arms around his shoulder and dig your nails into the flesh, the pain of which combines with the pleasure of your cunt squeezing his cock and pulls a deep moan from Peter that has you dragging your nails down his back leaving red marks in your wake to hear it again and again. Your own moans join in with Peters as his cock hits against either your g-spot or your cervix with every thrust, driving you absolutely insane with pleasure to the point that black dots began to gather in your vision as another orgasm rocks through you unexpectedly, a result of combining the after effects of your previous orgasm and the pleasure currently coursing through every nerve in your body.

Peter lets out a deep groan as you clench around him, eyes moving to watch his cock piston in and out of you and at the white ring of your cum that had gathered around the base, “Fuck princess you feel so fucking amazing on my cock, squeezing me so good.” You try and form words, anything to show Peter just how amazing he’s making you feel, but you can’t. The words die in the back of your throat and are instead replaced simply by whines and moans but they’re still sounds that make Peter’s cock twitch inside of you.

Peter continues his assault on your pussy, chasing his own high, the pattern of his thrusts becoming irregular and scattered as he rapidly approaches his own orgasm. “Fuck…princes I’m going to cum” He was going to pull out and cum on your pussy and stomach, never had any intention of cumming inside of you until your soft voice quietly calls out an “inside.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours and something feral reflected in them, “You want me to cum inside you princess? Want me to fill you up?” You nod your head as best you can and Peter slows down his thrust

“Oh God, yes Peter…please fill me with your cum.”

Peter speeds up his thrusts once again, hips slamming hard against your pelvis and balls slamming against your ass, the squelching sound of your pussy and the slapping of skin fills the air and joins the erotic symphony of your combined moans as Peter chases his high, the only thought in his head being how pretty you’re going to look with his cum dripping out of your pussy. It doesn’t take long until Peter trusts become sloppy and he sheathes himself completely inside you, tip of his cock pressed right against your cervix as he shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside of you with a loud groan.

Peter almost collapses on top of you, but he stops himself by placing his forearms by your head and using them to support his weight as his eyes move over your face, watching intently as you catch your breath and slowly come back to reality after three orgasms. He gently brushes one hand across your face in an attempt to ground you and as he cups your cheek to rub a thumb across the skin, you reach for his hand and cup your own around it. “You okay?”

You nod and turn your head to place gentle kisses on the palm of Peter’s hand, which has him smiling down at you gently and placing his own soft kisses against your forehead, “I’m going to pull out, okay?” You nod again, eyelids fluttering slightly and a small whine leaving your lips as Peter removes his cock from inside you, the stimulation a little too much. Peter whispers a gentle “sorry” and places more comforting kisses against your face and shoulders, the hand on your cheek continuing to rub against your skin to try and comfort you.

Peter places a gentle and loving kiss against your lips, the tenderness acting as such a juxtaposition to how deeply and roughly he had been fucking you moments before. You smile into the kiss, hand curling around the back of Peter’s neck to play with the baby hairs at the base. Peter pulls back from the kiss with a smile and pecks your nose gently, the cloudiness that had previously been in your eyes fading slightly as the skin to skin contact you have with him grounds you back to earth.

“Do you need anything? A shower, a bath, snacks?” You take a deep breath, pulling Peter down so he’s even closer and nuzzling into his neck, inhaling his scent as deep as you can and placing a light kiss against the skin, “A bath would be nice.” Your voice comes out soft and just above a whisper, had Peter not been deliberately paying attention he would have missed it.

“Okay princess, let’s run you a bath.” Peter goes to lift of you, but you keep him tight in your grip and wrap your legs around his waist, further restricting him from moving and going to draw you a bath. You let out a noise of discontent as he tries to pull away once again and Peter chuckles slightly at the sound. If you weren’t willing to let him go, then he was just going to have to carry you, which he did as he wrapped and arm around your waist for extra support and stood with you in his arms.

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll take good care of you��

---

Tony approaches Natasha at the bar, wanting a drink but also a little curious as to where you had disappeared too. You were on his arm when you both entered the party, though you quickly separated from him to go and socialise with people your own age after you had greeted all the necessary benefactors and he remembers seeing you with Parker briefly and then with America and Shang-Chi, it was their first Avengers formal event so he assumed you were reassuring them, but he hadn’t seen you since and he was getting just a little worried.

Nat, having seen Tony on his way towards her, places a glass of scotch, neat, on the bar top and smirks to herself as he grabs the glass and downs it in on go before he starts questioning her. “Have you seen my daughter?”

Natasha lets out a small hum and leans forward on the bar, using her forearms to support her weight as she does so, “I might have.” Tony rolls his eyes at the Widow and lets out a huff of air, placing his empty glass down with a little more force than necessary. Natahsa’s smirk grows into a knowing smile as she glances to the door that both you and a certain spiderling had disappeared out of about 2 hours earlier and had yet to return from. Tony follows her gaze and he feels his heart tightening at the thought you had left with someone, “She left with someone?”

Natasha nods her head, “‘Bout 2 hours ago.” Horror slowly fills Tony, you would only be away for that long for one reason and one reason only and it was not one he was ready to consider for you. Despite being 21 years old, you were still hes sweet, little girl and the thought of you being sexually active was horrifying. Not only that, most people here that weren’t members of the Avengers were his age and older and he did not want you mixed up with them and there were very few members of the Avengers around your age, well specifically one and as the thought crossed his mind Tony started to glare at nothing, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he did so, “Parker”

Natasha laughed at Tony, a full belly laugh that had her throwing her head back as she did. After she settled down her laughter enough, she was able to grab onto Tony's shoulder to stop him from storming into your bedroom and seeing something he really did not want to see, “Oh come on. They’re young, let them have their fun.” Tony huffed out once again, as Pepper's voice filled his ears. He hadn’t even noticed her coming up beside him and taking his hand in hers to calm him down, though his temper flares again as Natasha speaks up once again.

“At least it’s not Barnes she’s running off with.”

7K notes · View notes

taurder · 10 months

Text

Saturdays

top!dom!reader x sub!peter b. parker (earth 616B)

contains: breeding kink, degradation, slut shaming, praise kink, begging, daddy kink, fingering (character receiving), mommy kink.

you loved saturdays, and so did peter. they were the day he didn't have to worry about mayday's whereabouts, since it was the usual day mj could take care of her and give peter the day off. so he had the entire day to hang with you more privately, and that always meant fucking in every surface available in your apartment.

today in particular peter had been really desperate to get you to fuck him, barely giving you time to undress when he was already asking for your fingers, being kind enough to fetch the lube himself so you wouldn't waste another second.

Your fingers inside his needy hole while his chest was pressed against the kitchen table were enough after some minutes to make him cum without warning. "k-keep going. please take me already, issfine" you were surprised that he was already slurring his words out, but you smiled at the neediness of your lover, groping his ass with both hands first just to make him whine and push back at you.

"someone's really horny today, huh?" you cleaned your fingers in his lower back, chuckling at his shivering for the anticipation, arching his back and extending his hand to one end of the table to hold himself. "if you really want it then ask for it. you think i'll fuck you just because your slutty ass is craving a cock inside?"

his dick twitch at the mean words and you smiled while getting more lube in your dick, watching him wiggle his ass and turning to see you while he beg. "please, daddy. i- i really want you inside" you got closer, taking with one hand his waist, the other guiding your cock at him. "yes! yes yes yes please– oh god, thank you so mghhh" you cut his words by getting completely inside in one thrust.

peter's wording became worst every time you hit his prostate, making him moan loud as he barely could hold back his strength to not break a piece of the table with the way he was holding into it. you grabbed him with both hands now, sliding in and out fast, pressing him further into the table and making his body grind against it.

"ah, ah, ah, ha- harder. want-mGHH. ah, ah, da-aah-ddy" he always got so cock dumb when you had your way with him. you give him a slap, making him yelp breathlessly before repeating a variation of your name and the word daddy, so prettily that it got you thinking.

"maybe i should knock you up so you can really make me a daddy" you felt in your dick when the words made him react, his body stopping a second but his walls getting tight, keeping you in. "you'd like that? you think i'm deep enough to put a baby in you?"

you slid deeper, and he moaned louder, a trail of saliva already making a big wet stop in the table where he couldn't keep his mouth shut. you fuck him harder, rougher, not able to stop spilling dirty words seeing how much it affected him.

"c'mon peter you already are a dad, you want to be a mommy now?" his next whine was high-pitched, you knew he was close again. "i"ll fuck you good, make sure it takes. all day full of cum, just how you always like to be" the wet noise the lube created in every thrust was just as sinful as your words.

"come for me again, mama. milk my dick as you desperately want" peter's face was now against the table, he had given up on talking, just mumbling and letting out moans as his eyes went up in his head. you reached for his dick then, squeezing it at the same time you felt your own climax near and with another moan from the horny spider-man you both came.

his seed painted the floor again, legs tensing up but he hold his position for you, making sure you came deep inside him. and you did. staying there until peter could close his mouth again after riding his own intense orgasm, and you slid out loving the view of his abused hole twitching for the loss.

"you're an asshole" was the first thing he said, his brain and mouth able to function better now after some minutes. he was blushing, holding back a pout as you cleaned his legs and then his cheek from the dried saliva. you smiled raising an eyebrow at him, pinching his belly. "don't let our baby hear you saying that".

he push you slightly, his face redder. you've just found out your lover's newest kink, and you intended to explore it fully.

#male reader #m!reader #top reader x character #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x dom reader #across the spiderverse #peter b parker x you #dom reader #submisive and breedable #sub character #spiderverse x reader #gn reader #perter b parker x gn reader

747 notes · View notes

chocolain · 1 year

Text

If you see me liking character x fem!reader stuff just know its bc there was bearly any M!reader content on said character.

#x male reader #m!reader #gn!reader #gn reader #gender nuetral reader #bruce wayne x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #kaito x reader #chat noir x male reader #spencer reid x male reader #peter parker x male reader #spiderman x male reader #batman x male reader #nightwing x male reader #edward elric x reader #artem x male reader

1K notes · View notes

stinkysam · 5 months

Text

Peter Parker - All about the angle.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “tasm Peter parker x male reader, just the two being love sick idiots and everyone around them sees it and just thinks those two are going to be together forever. 🩷” - anon

Reader : male (he/you)

“I love you.” You said quietly, kissing Peter's lips. He smiled, looking at you with adoration in his eyes and wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you too.” He kissed you again and again as you giggled, happy.

“I have to go.” You said. “My father is waiting for me in the car.”

“Okay.” He said, kissing you one last time before letting you go. “I love you.” He repeated and you whispered it back to him before quickly walking toward your father's car.

“So, how long have you two been together ?” Gwen asked, looking at Peter with big interested eyes.

“Huh ?” He jumped, he hadn't heard her arrive, too focused on you leaving.

“You and [Name].” She laughed. “Since when are you dating him ?”

“Uh.” He brought his right hand to his lips, chewing lightly on his thumb. “We're not… We're- We're not dating.” He said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh, come on. I've seen the way you look at each other. Like he's some angel coming down from heaven. Don't worry he looks at you the same.”

“W- what ? We don't…” He shook his head. “He's just a friend.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Do you kiss all your friends on the lips like that ?”

Peter, panicking, continued to laugh nervously.

“We didn't- We just- You saw wrong, it was the angle. It looked like we were kissing but we weren't.”

“Oooh…” She nodded. “That's weird because a lot of angles do that with you two.”

“Ahah… Oh yeah ? Weird. Huh… that's- he's part French. They kiss each other for greetings, he likes… to do that…”

“Oh yeah ? On the lips ?”

“Cheeks ! On the cheeks. It was on the cheeks.”

“Damned angles that made it look like you're kissing him on the lips, am I right ?”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He frowned with a laugh, throwing back his bag on his shoulders.

“It's cute. You two, I mean. A bit too down bad for each other though, but still.” She said more quietly.

“Ahah yeah we're not- we're still not dating.”

“Oh yeah, right, sorry, my bad. I meant, whatever french thing you two have together.”

“There's no… French thing. Just… friends.” He smiled awkwardly.

“Right, right. Like those friends that end up living together for years. Historians say they were just friends.”

“Gwen…” He shook his head. “There's really nothing.” He laughed. “But I'm starting to believe you want us to be a thing.”

“If you're not a thing already, which I highly doubt with the suspicious French angles, then, yes, just get together already.” She nodded with a smile as Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“We aren't, Gwen. And we won't.” He said, leaving. “Bye !”

“Maybe next time don't kiss in public ! And don't make me take pictures of you two !” She yelled, watching him disappear.

You entered your house and went to your room, planning to finish the book you had started a few days ago. Only for Peter to barge in through the window.

“She knows !” He whispers-yelled, looking at you with big eyes.

“Hi again.” You chuckled. “Who knows what, babe ?” You said, eyes still on your book as you yawned.

“Gwen, about us.”

You immediately closed your mouth, looking at him. You quickly stood up, throwing your book on the bed.

“How does she know ? Did you tell her ?”

“No !” He almost looked offended by your question. “Why would I come here if I did ?”

“Is she spying on us ?” You asked, looking out the window before closing the curtains.

“She saw us kiss. Several times.” He said and you scoffed.

“Wh- what ? Us kissing ? Ah ! Ahah !” You began to laugh

“She's not here.”

“I know I was practicing. Was it good ?”

“You're part French.”

“I'm part what !?”

“It was really good, a bit less disgust in your voice, maybe.”

“I swear to God if I have to raise my grades in French, Peter, you're dead.”

#male reader #m!reader #tasm #tasm x male reader #tasm imagine #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman imagine #the amazing spiderman x male reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x reader

274 notes · View notes

noamm7 · 13 days

Text

the new boy

paring : peter parke (tom holland) X male reader

cw : fluff

summary : Peter introduces the school to the new boy (you) and a friendship with something more begins to blossom.

You were slowly adapting to your new life since you moved with your mother and stepfather. Today was your first day in a new school, and while you were nervous, you were also excited to meet new people and make friends. As you entered the grounds of the school, a sweet-looking boy approached you.

He was smaller than you had imagined, wearing a shirt with a Star Wars design on it, he had brown hair, and seemed timid and kinda jittery, but in a cute way.

"Hey, uh... I just wanted to welcome you... I'm Peter... Peter Parker, and I've been here since first grade, and I'm considered a good student, so... they They I was asked to show you around and stuff..." he whispers "I'm really not sure what to say"

"Hey, eh… nice to meet you Peter, my name is Y/N… and as you probably know I… am new here…" you say with a brief smile.

Peter suddenly noticed he was lost in your smile. It was so radiant and expressive, like the light of the sun had been repressed and now radiating from your face. Peter was caught off-guard and blushed for a moment before becoming stunned, unable to avert his gaze. He was then able to recover himself and continue the conversation, avoiding the awkward moment.

"Well, uh... yeah, I guess I should introduce you to the school now, right?"

"Ah, yeah, sure, I would appreciate that." Peter nodded his head in affirmation "All right, follow me, I'll show you the classrooms and other areas of the school."

As you and Peter walked around the school, you had a blast chatting about all sorts of things you had in common. You discovered that both of you loved reading and collecting comic books about superheroes, building complex Lego sets and even playing similar video games.

You could feel a spark of friendship igniting between you, and it was so nice to have someone to talk to and forge bonds with over shared interests.

✁ ..time cut..

Finally, you two arrived at the end of the tour of the school. Peter had showed you all the classrooms, hallways and areas of the school. You realized that you two shared many interests and you were feeling more and more connected. It was now time for you to part ways, at least temporarily, since both of you had to head back to class.

“Well, I guess it's a temporary goodbye... I really enjoyed showing you around... and I really liked you... I mean... meeting you... sorry...” Peter says feeling his cheeks start to heat up "Okay that's cute" Peter squints his eyes and turns even redder than he was, you laugh a little at his reaction and then continue talking "I felt the same way, thank you for taking the time to do this” You say with a brief smile "You're welcome... well I should get to class. I hope to see you later!" Peter speaks with a small smile on his face.

Before parting ways with Peter, you quickly thought of something and called him. "Hey, hey, before we part ways, do you think we could go out to explore the city this weekend? I don't know much around here, so if you could go with me and show me some fun places... if you want, of course." Peter looked at you for a moment, seemingly a little surprised, then smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, sure, it's a great idea, I'd be happy to do that." Peter answered, with a big smile.

"Perfect," you say with a smile "Then... I guess I'll see you at lunch, right?" "Yeah, of course," Peter replies, nodding his head and giving a smile "I liked getting to know you Peter." You say with a smile "You're a cool guy." Peter felt a wave of warmth and happiness wash over his mind and heart "Ah, I..." he said, becoming even more flustered "I... I say the same, it was a pleasure getting to know you too, Y/N." Peter replied, smiling and unaware of just how red he was getting.

“See you at lunch, then," you say, glancing over your shoulder with a brief wave and turning to find your class. While Peter stands there, with an infatuated smile on his face, not realizing just how red he was getting.

It was certainly set to be more than just a great friendship between these two young boys.

ac : Sorry guys this was longer than I thought 😭😭 I hope you liked it ❤️‍🩹 who knows, we might have a second part of this story…

69 notes · View notes

crims0nwritess · 1 year

Note

Hi how are you?

Can I request a peter parker x male reader where peter and reader are trying to spend some time together alone but keep getting interrupted by the avengers. Mostly peter and reader trying to watch movies,eat snacks and make out with some touching ( reader mostly touching/grabbing peters butt ) but due to the avengers they keep moving to different spots but are found every single time until they both put their foot down and tell them not to disturb them as they want to relax.

Please and thank you :)

Hello! Im good, thanks for asking! Thats an awesome idea! Thank you for the request!

Again???

___________________________________________

Peter Parker x Male!reader

___________________________________________

Summary: Peter and Y/N want just one minute of alone time, unfortunately, living with 20+ people means thats probably not gonna happen

Warnings: Slight touching, kissing

Notes: Reader has dr. Strange magic

___________________________________________

You sat on your bed, scrolling through your phone mindlessly for the past hour or 2, not really knowing what to do with yourself, until you heard a familiar knock at your window.

You turned your head towards the noise, only to see your boyfriend waving like a toddler with a goofy smile on his face, his spidersuit still visible on his neck.

You got up and opened the window, peter smiling even wider as you did.

"Have you ever came through my door?" You asked, kneeling down slightly to look at his fce through the open window.

"I dont think so, no" Peter said as he hopped through your window and sprung up excitedly, throwing his gloved hand up to your cheek and placing a small kiss on your lips.

You smiled widely as you close the window and Peter went into the bathroom to change, you hopped on the bed again and waited patiently for Peter to come back.

After Peter changed out of his suit he came out of the bathroom and spread your arms wide, your hand waggling, gesturing for him to come over and a smile plastered on your face.

Peter smiled and waddled over to you, now in more comfortable clothes, he came over and slung his legs over your hips, grabbing onto your shoulders and pressing his lips against yours.

Your hands went down to his waist as you moved your lips against his, both of your mouths moving in perfect sync as you pulled him closer to you on your lap.

Knock knock knock

Peter pulled away from your lips with a confused face as the knock on your door subsided.

"Who is it?" You called out.

"Its kate can I come in?" Kate asked outside your door.

You looked over at Peter who gave you a nod and rolled off your lap onto the bed by your side, Kate opened the door and walked in, sprinting over to you and sitting on the other side of you, showing you something on her phone.

"Ok so there was this guy today who came in and- wait was I interrupting something?" She asked as she saw Peter by your side.

"Umm, no, nope your fine" You said awkwardly as you and Kate continued your conversation.

That was the first time this happened.

The second time, you were in the living room, it was late at night and you and Peter wanted to watch a movie on the big, Avengers TV, Peter picked out and turned on the movie and you soundproofed the room, using a spell, you cast a wave of orange light over the room and knew you were all set, you sat on the couch next to him and threw a blanket over both of you.

Peter threw an arm around you and you set your head on his shoulder as the movie started, a star wars movie, of course, Peter picked the movie.

It was a total of 5 minutes before they were interupted again.

"What the hell are you two doing up so late?" Steve asked as he walked into the room.

"We just wanted to watch a movie on the big TV" Peter said turning his attention to Steve.

"Absolutely not its midnight go to bed" Steve said grabbing the remote from the table and turning off the TV, you and Peter rolled your eyes and threw the blanket off.

"And why are YOU up mr. Rogers?" You asked tauntingly.

"I had to pee, thank you very much" Steve explained.

"Now go to bed, both of you, and seperate rooms!"

"What?!" You and Peter asked simultaneously.

"Shh! You'll wake everyone up!" Steve whisper-yelled.

"I soundproofed the room moron" Y/N said.

"Ohhh that explains why I couldnt hear the TV... but hey! Dont talk to me that way young man!" Steve said.

"'Young man' you're so old" You said as you and Peter walked away.

"Hey!"

"We're going! Dont worry"

"Seperate rooms!"

"Yeah yeah whatever..."

The third time, you and Peter were up at midnight... again, sneaking into the avengers kitchen for a late night snack, you barely got the fridge open before Clint dropped from the vents.

"Ow! Shit im too old for that" Clint said as he groans in pain and stands up from falling, pointing a finger towards you.

"Bed, now" Clint said.

"You too? What did Steve pay you or something?" You asked.

"Actually he did, got 50 bucks" Clint smiled.

"Ooh chocolate gimme some"

You kept the bag away from him and evenly distributed the chocolate 3 ways for you, Clint and Peter.

The fourth time, it was getting a bit annoying, you were on the rooftop, right after Peters patrol, his mask was pulled just a bit above his mouth and his lips were pressed against yours, your hands were slowly trailing down his back and he was gently pressing you down onto the roof, eventually, your tounges were dancing against each other as your hands were cupping the curves of Peters butt, you smiled against his lips before you heard a noise coming from above.

"Ohhhhh man! Get you some spider boy!" You heard from above, your eyes go wide as Peter pulls off of you quickly, looking up at the falcon laughing and flying above you, Peter pulled his mask down and got off of you, helping you up quickly afterwards.

"Screw you sam!" Peter yelled.

"Aww, what did I ever do to you?" Sam giggled.

This had happened to you 3 more times next week, and finally, you both had enough.

The final time, you and Peter had made SURE, you were alone, you were in the lab, making some upgrades to Peters suit, well, Peter was, you didnt really understand all that stuff so you just admired his cute face as he worked away.

"What?" He asked as he noticed you staring.

"Nothin, your just cute" You said, making him blush and look away.

You got up and placed your hands on his cheeks, moving his head towards yours and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Hey guy- nevermind i'll come back later" Bruce said as he entered the lab.

You sigh as you break away from his lips, rolling your eyes and making a face that said 'fed up'

"How many times has that happened?" Peter asked.

"Too many" You grabbed his hand and walked with him to the conference room, pressing your finger on the intercom button.

"Attention all avengers, if you see Y/N and Peter alone together, please do not disturb them" You started.

"That means like, always, unless we say otherwise" Peter added on.

"Thank you." You finished.

You looked up at Peter and smiled, feeling somewhat at peace and kissed him again.

"What are you guys talking about?" Tony asked barging in.

"OUT" You and Peter said.

"Fine! Why are yelling at me..." Tony said and closed the door as you kissed Peter again and he lifted you onto the table.

#peter parker x male reader #peter x male reader #peter parker #marvel x male reader #marvel #mcu x male reader #mcu #avengers #avengers x male reader #gay #male reader #m!reader #male!reader

707 notes · View notes

nouearth · 9 months

Text

a sticky situation.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter has a major crush on his roommate: you. everything unravels when he walks in on you changing.

wc: 4.1k. genre: smut. warnings: holland!peter, sub!top peter, voyeur!peter, college!au, dry-humping, grinding, frotting, handjobs, kissing, peter's first time, dubcon, cumplay, peter and reader are shooters, characters are aged up!

a bite of the cold air shuddered your damp and nude body once you stepped out of the bathroom, cataloguing the tidiness of your shared bedroom after. your shoulders tensed when the heated air and cold draft clashed for an estate of your body. but by the way your muscles eased into the green towel around your waist, you’ve figured which side won the war. a warm cheer to victory buzzed in your head.

god, did i luck out with peter…

you found yourself repeating that observation often these days. it’s only been two months into the semester, but you’ve already concluded that peter was leagues better than your previous roommate. though, the bar was low—he was kind of a homophobe. that guy was a walking proof of evidence that opposites, in fact, do not attract.

on the other hand, peter had proven that similar interests and personalities were the foundation of beautiful, growing relationships: both platonically and romantically. still, relationships were never that black and white—a grey area. a theory that will forever be tested on, only for the outcome to come out vaguer than before, you’ve realized.

peter was like you: friendly, smart, awkward at times, funny to some. you and him basically have the same qualities of a dog, but there was more to it.

you both shared the same liking down to the genre of video games, the magic of fantasy novels, the cleanliness of a room, the color-coded organization of study notes, and more.

from there, the similar line of characteristics began to blur. whereas you’d prefer to learn from experience, peter liked playing by the book—sticking to it if he could. peter liked red, you liked blue. he favored savory snacks, you devoured them, but preferred sweet drinks.

opposites attract—the theory was once again, broad in your honor.

difference and similarities aside, you were lucky to have peter in your life. the bedroom was colder before you went to shower, but now it blossomed with a gentle heat.

he knew you hated the cold after a warm shower.

taking the other towel, you dried off the rest of your body while you checked your phone for notifications: a missed call from a friend and a few emails regarding construction around the building you had your classes in.

seriously? still? it’s been almost a year already…

normally, you wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom like this, baring skin and all. but peter went to get food because you both have become familiarized with what they served as food at parties.

note to self: you cannot get full off alcoholic beverages. you and peter both tried two parties ago, and it ended with you two sharing the toilet bowl, detoxing your insides of that liquid poison the entire night. the only enjoyment that resulted from that night was learning that peter was a drunk-crier, and you, a drunk-dancer. your friendship had only leveled up since.

you slid on your white briefs once you dried off before shuffling to the other side of the room, browsing through your shared closet aimlessly: he took the left side, you took the right. it was always dim at those parties, so a nice outfit would be wasted. also, you somehow became a magnet for other people’s misfortunes. it took hours to get rid of the smell of this one girl’s vomit—you threw it out in the end.

“no, no… it’s going to be cold later…” you cycled through your clothes again, sighing when nothing caught your eye. “guess i can wear this aga-“

“hey!” out of nowhere, peter’s voice sprung out from the side of the room, followed by a quiet thud, and you twisted your bare body towards the source out of fright.

“jesus, you scared me.” the closet door blocked your view of peter, and vice versa, but you presumed he was leaning against the frame—a habit you noted. “i didn’t even hear you come back.”

“sorry- what was i saying..? oh!” his shadow loomed between you and him, growing as he stepped closer to the closet. “did you want to eat now or-“

judging from the volume of his voice, you should’ve expected how close peter was when you shut the closet. “fuck!” you jumped back, eyes widening when he was practically chest to chest with you. “dude, you really gotta stop doing that.”

on a daily basis, you always looked up at him, but you never paid it much thought to how much taller he was.

“sorry! guess everyone’s a little antsy with the- oh.” he paused.

“what?” you curiously looked up at him, catching sight of his wandering gaze. you were quick enough to follow it, flickering between glimpses of your bare body and face several times like a tennis ball. somehow, you didn’t puzzle the pieces between his shock and your curiosity until he backed away, skittish in nature.

you were in your underwear. still in your underwear. the barrier was the captor of your embarrassment, heat rosed your cheeks as you stood frozen. and with it, the barrier was also your savior.

“oh- OH!” the size of your eyes matched his and upon realizing he’s been staring for far too long, peter cowered his gaze to the side, a gentlemanly hand blocking his sight as he further backed to the door frame, then blindly bumped his shoulder into the door. “i’m so sorry-“

“no, no! i should’ve knocked. i-“ he groaned out, pacifying the sting to his shoulder with his palm. “that was stupid of me, i’m gonna-“

that was another similarity that you both valued: privacy.

before you could reply, he scattered off. for a moment, you felt hot in the face, in the neck, even on your chest. but it would only take a few more seconds for your skin to cool, comforted by the fact that you could’ve shown more—you didn’t.

when peter scrambled out of the room, his gaze fixated on the ground, to the stripes of his socks as they shuffled to the kitchen.

but he never made it very far, because he was easily persuaded. either by his hormones, by the shape of your body, or by his closeted feelings about you. in the end, it didn’t matter because a tightening feeling conjured him back to his original spot—it was always going to be about you.

he was silent in his footsteps, treading backwards to the bedroom as his throat ran dry—heartbeat equally.

tonight. i should do it tonight. are my feelings that obvious? god, i hope not. wait, no- they are! they gotta be… who the fuck wipes marshmallow off of your roommate’s lips and calls them cute?!

peter does.

as his thoughts ran rampant, clouded his regularly murky mind, you were in his line of sight, perfectly captured in the middle of his gaze—now stilled—awe-strucked while he watched you change.

quick portraits of your thick thighs and calves came and went before they were completely masked by the slide of your shorts. then your stomach and chest; pliant, moist skin that layered over the contours of your body before being covered by a tee. he exhaled, then inhaled, smelling the scent of your shampoo and body wash, and he was delighted because you own that scent.

enraptured because only peter could have his senses triggered by you on a daily basis.

if peter could frame this moment, it would be an expensive endeavor that would sacrifice all the money in the world to find the most perfect materials that complemented your textured skin. your smooth body. your handsome face.

you. that was all he wanted.

peter had been trapped since the day he saw you unpacking your things into the dorm. sweaty from the sun, and you knew that, because you refused to shake hands with him until you insisted on washing up first. he wished you never did—your thighs looked better sweating under those shorts.

he’s had crushes before. one in middle school, three in high school. but they amounted to nothing, he never had the confidence. rather, he preferred isolating himself and admiring from afar. rejections had already been predicted, and he was used to the feeling of defeat. if someone were to accept his advances one day, then that would lead to a disruption of events—a catastrophic end to humanity—he joked.

you were different to peter. he loved how, for once, he didn’t have to be the one initiating conversation. he also loved how you didn’t use him for answers because instead, you would help him out with his assignments.

oh, is that professor warren’s class? I think i still have the textbook for her class… let me look.

even when it would only take five minutes to grab a drink down the street, you still invited him. not out of pity like everybody once did, but because he was your friend. parties have never been your thing, but you accompanied them with him because it made him feel better—to know someone.

maybe since he’s grown more mature since then, but now that he was off on his own, it was up to him to predict his future. it was an advice you gave him one night, and he’s kept that close to his heart since then. not the hate that had inflicted his mind, not his peers telling he wasn’t good enough for someone—but him.

in his imaginary world, peter could feel the walls shake when he was around you. the buildings would then fall apart, the earth would scorch civilians and planetary life with heat, and the thundering rain would only make it worse. it was a morbid image. yet, if it meant that you truly liked him, then…

aliens, come do your thing. we insist upon an invasion!

peter wanted you. point, blank, period. it wasn’t his preferred way to confess, but intense sentiments of like, love, lust—all at the same time—ate him up on the inside, and he was scared of being devoid of feelings for you.

“i want… you,” peter muttered, and you jolted again, turning back around in case you misheard him. you were bewildered at the sight of him. once again, you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“what?” you shuffled nervously on your feet. the tension in the air was thick and hot now with the way he stared back at you, frightened yet assured.

“i want you.” there was credence in peter’s tone, and he neared to the door now.

your eyes narrowed into the deep abyss of peter’s eyes as you sat on the foot of your bed, putting on socks. somewhere in your endeavors, you found a flicker of that familiar joke. “ha. ha. very funny,” you muttered bitterly.

it haunted you. as soon as you came out, you were taunted by those same exact words by your ‘friends,’ by your previous roommate. what made you different from them became a simple reason to cease empathy and kindness, and you were baffled that this was happening again.

maybe peter was like the others after all.

you avoided peter’s gaze in favor of the floor, the legs of your desk, your rug—anywhere but him—and you could feel the color drain out of your face, out of this room—deja vu. “look, i know it’s funny to you because i like guys and for whatever reason, straight guys like to flirt with gay men to get a reaction out of us,”

the rug cushioned the weight of a familiar pair of feet, and you looked up, a great frown etched in your face when your eyes met peter’s. he towered over you, bewildered. “but it makes me uncomfortable. and it’s not funny to-“

he didn’t know what roused him. the pain in your voice made him want to apologize without any resort to excuses. the pout on your lips made him want to cradle your head, yet kiss you at the same time. the growing tent in his pants made him want to pin you to your bed, and simply ravish you.

it was all a blur.

his impulsive thoughts became a reality once he stole the remaining words left in your distress, and clumsily swallowed them with a kiss. you didn’t have time to process his lips on yours because you were then pushed onto your back, stilted and surprised, as peter applied his weight on top of yours—his broader build shadowed you in welfare.

“pete-“ you groaned into the hot, breathy kiss, and despite the light attempts to push him away, you were compelled to return the wet exchange. breathlessly, you repeated, “stop, this isn’t funny-“ he kissed you again. all this time, you could’ve had him, but you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise.

“i’m not laughing,” peter muttered, and his hips began moving into yours, aimlessly trying to alleviate the stiffness in his pants. “i want you.” his voice lowered—no longer a confession, but a demand. he rocked into you harder once he felt you throb under those tight short, and you slipped out a moan, memorizing the beat of peter that pulsated against you.

you remembered him being bashful when you two talked about your firsts. you weren’t completely inexperienced like he was, but you mentioned that it’s been a while since you’ve done anything remotely intimate. school was your focus, a relationship was your reward.

“peter,” you repeated again, he wasn’t listening. “peter.” he whispered a demand; to keep calling his name, and you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the cliché line often heard in soft porn.

then, you cupped your hands around his temples to pull him away. he gazed into you with ardent hunger, almost annoyed that you ruined the trail of kisses he began leaving on your neck. “did you drink without me? because if you did, then i don’t think we should-“

“i didn’t,” he sobered on the softness of your lips, and like a flip switch, he snapped out of his fictional world of you. “fuck- i’m so sorry, i didn’t even ask you if you wanted to- fuck, i even forgot to say that i like you.” he ranted to himself, beginning to pull himself away. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

infatuation had expanded into something beyond your control, and your feelings for him ignited even more. a wick bursted into powerful flames, and it warmed your body knowing that you two shared the same sentiment.

before he completely peeled himself off your body, you pulled him down by the neck, then pressed your nose to his, grinning. “I like you too.” a peck to the tip of his nose, then the center of his lips. your onslaught of fleeting kisses to his skin drowned him, pacifying every muscle in his body until it became jelly, and also making it all the more easier to roll him under you.

“not exactly how i imagined my first date with you, but,” you straddled his lap, roaming your hands around peter’s chest, an asset of his you’ve frequently daydreamed about. “you sure?”

the applied pressures to your waist, then bottom should’ve been a definite measure of his answer, but he smiled up at you, guiding a steady pace of your hips to his groin. he was easily distracted, suddenly cascading his other palm up your shirt then down to finally feel the bare skin he had spent long showers jerking off to. fantasies had now been served onto a platter before him, and peter planned on devouring you, piece by piece. “please.”

“must have had a lot on your mind if you couldn’t even confess to me.” it was unusual to see him like this—absolutely enthralled by your presence, high off of it. aching for more of you with the way he pushed his groin into you. “how long have you been thinking about this?” being unusual always had negative connotations to it.

you pressed into him harder, rubbing at his print with gallant grinds. not in this moment.

he moaned, “far too long…” then fumbled with the waistband of your shorts before doing the same with the zipper. “you’ve been driving me crazy, especially these days.” it was a simple task, a daily labor that peter was great at, but his hands shook when his finger met metal. you chuckled, and placed a comforting hand to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with the amplest caress.

take your time. i’m not going anywhere.

“mind sharing what you thought about then?” the only time you peel yourself away from peter’s groin was to help him slide your shorts off, then his jeans. peter lifted his hips, and you two were joined together again. aching together. “just curious.” you joked by pulsating your bulge, and he shyly laughed when he saw the restrictive twitch.

felt it.

“well... where do i start?” peter’s warm hand rested on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your erection while delicately exploring your soft skin. “there’s been so many times where i just wanted to…” he was too ashamed to finish his sentence, looking away.

“wanted to…?” your body arced over his, placing a persuading kiss to his cheek, then neck. “what was it?” they lingered, sunk deep into his skin with the utmost affection, and he left the deepest, pleasurable sighs as if you withdrew it from him. you commenced his dilemma. “tell me what you thought when you first saw me. saw that i was your roommate.”

“i...” peter began, and you could tell his nerves got the best of him, so you rocked into him again, begged with your hips. the position made it easier to feel all of him, press into his warmth more, and you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. “i didn’t know what to feel. i was happy, that i had someone as kind as you…” you gleefully hummed, agreeing as you continued leaving kisses to his neck.

“then i was nervous, because you were so… cute. handsome. beautiful.” he moaned when you began to grind in slow, deep strides. your bulges squeezed and pushed one another, peter did the same, growing impossibly bigger against you. “but when i saw you in those shorts, sweating because move-in day was always on a hot day…”

“yeah?” you beckoned him to finish his sentence because you were closing your eyes now, remembering that very moment because you felt the same. the way peter’s chest, his muscles, were broad and stunning under his own layer of sweat, under his loose shirt, under that naivety that you would never have dreamed to think of him as such a…

“i just wanted to fuck you.”

pervert.

the shy smile he gave you messed with your perception of him. clearly, you’ve underestimated him all this time, and you kissed him again. “so, you only thought about pleasuring yourself.”

he quickly broke the kiss to defend himself. “wait, no! t-that’s not what i meant.”

“peter, relax.” your laugh calmly settled into a comforting smile, and you blindly reached down to his thick print, feeling and squeezing at whatever you can because you were desperate to explore him. “i’m joking.” his chest rose.

for the remainder of time, you spent it stroking peter through his underwear. dryly to his frustration, but he never told you because he wanted to experience you in every way. his lips never left yours, only parted to moan into your mouth when you shoved your hand into his briefs to sate your desire to feel him bare.

peter was big in your small hand. the weight felt suffocating to your palm when you grabbed ahold of his sack, fondling his balls, then stroking his cock again, and you were intoxicated in the way he melted under you, looked into you, begged for you to go faster.

you did. who wouldn’t when he gazed at you with the most puppy-like eyes?

he had complete control of you now, because every action, every stroke, from then on had been a journey to his personal paradise. you didn’t care that you were left abandoned, that you were aching harder than he was. watching him was more than adequate.

both pairs of briefs and shirts have been tossed to the side now, and you maintained your straddle. it was riveting to watch how much bigger peter was when you took both of your cocks together and stroked. he practically enveloped you with the weight of his length, the girth of his shaft, and you wallowed in the fact that he was incredibly bashful about it.

peter’s hand never left your body. he charmed you by his neediness. it was clumsy in execution, but he always squeezed a moan out of you with he felt your ass, your chest, your nipples, your thighs. “fuck, pete.”

everything about you was beautiful, incredibly more so when you caved into him as he dealt kisses to your bare skin and took his own turn at jerking the both of you off.

he was eager. delirious. hard, stiffening hard, against you, and you felt every vein pulsate the harder— the faster—he squeezed and stroked. you leaned back, hands planted to the mattress beneath you, then maneuvered your hips to the rhythm of his fist. you found a pace while peter kept you steady, and fucked into his fist, against his wet cock, sliming your dripping pre-cum together with the utmost fervor.

“wait, (m/n),” he hiccuped, and his hold on you tightened, nails dug into your left waist but you ignored his plea, fucking steadily into his fist. “stop, i’m going to-“ they fell on deaf ears, and mouth agape, peter watched you with incredulity. you can feel his body flex, your balls smushed to his when you grinned up, your pre-cum sticking to his, his to yours, like a sick web. “s-stop, oh god.”

and peter unraveled before you with a guttural moan, finishing the rest of his plea with a blasting of thick and creamy ropes to his chest, like a cannon. the force was strong enough to have a few shots land on his face, then his hair, and then somewhere above because peter was a big shooter—a strong one, you’d passionately testify. “f-fuck, i didn’t mean to cum so-“

“holy shit.” you watched peter in all his glory, then in his embarrassment, while stilted on his lap and sweating, not taking notice of the delay of your climax because it crept up on you quick. a rocket broke the cloud in your thoughts with a boom, and you spilled all over him, shooting like fireworks. “shit!”

peter was your canvas, and it was your duty to paint him. debris of sex splattered everywhere, because you somehow found the strength to continue fucking yourself into the cream of fist, unloading and unloading onto him until you were dry, heaving and dripping.

“fuck- I didn’t mean to ruin your sheets-” he mumbled, a blush stained his cheeks, and you joined in the warmth with a kiss, panting.

“where’s the fun in all of this if you aren’t going to stain at least one thing.” your brows raised at the wet stain on the wall above peter’s head, right below your wall-shelf, and peter’s gazed followed.

he groaned, distressed by the evident he made. “fuck, sorry…” his bashfulness only endeared you even more.

“it’s okay,” you hopped off his lap, stretching your arms into the air. “i’ll clean you up.”

“okay,” peter lay still, his hand cautiously held over his stomach to catch the drips of his cum and yours. it was fascinating to watch the mixture flow together, strands of it melding and un-webbing as he played with the sticky residue. it was the scientist in him. “my towel is on the- fuck-“

without a beat, you took his dripping flaccid cock into your mouth, sucking off any remnants of spunk. an unfamiliar taste you weren’t used to, bitter and salty. it wasn’t until you noticed how peter’s eyes glazed over you, half-lidded because he was in heaven now, that you found the taste of him delectable. peter’s caution for staining your bed sheets was disregarded, because he knew you’d clean the rest of him off.

after you pulled away with a soft pop, he traced your wet lips with the cum on his fingers, then his knuckles, before he pushed one by one into your mouth. one finger at first, then two, then three, you moaned erotically around his digits as peter pumped, marveling in the eagerness of your mouth. he slowly pushed more cum into your mouth. the creamy residue gathered at the corner of your mouth at first but he made sure to scoop it back in, and continued doing so until he was polished clean.

nothing was wasted.

the taste of you and him spread in the warmth of your tongue, and you have never felt more intoxicated.

to peter, you have never looked more beautiful.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

3K notes · View notes