Rings, Rings, Rings -> Peter Parker
pairings: peter parker x reader
desc: in which your boyfriends newfound love towards jewellery affects you more than you expected
warnings: swearing, the most nsfw thing iâve done, sex mentions, hand kink, dirty talk, choking, ring kink(?), hint of dom!peter, nicknames of pure filth
a/n: this is filth. itâs not all the way smut but oh my god itâs pure filth. if there were any mind readers in sainsburyâs while i thought this up - sorryđ
masterlist
It started with one. One metal band around Peterâs middle finger. You had loved it, even complimented him on it.
Never could you have expected a fucking ring to make you like this.
Your problem had began in first period, when Peter walked into math, his fingers lined with rings. You had noticed straight away, and when he sat down next to you, your mind was already a million miles away.
The only thought bouncing around in your mind was short, sweet and simple. Rings, rings, rings.
By the end of maths, you could already feel the butterflies in your stomach dropping all the way down, giving you a familiar sensation in your abdomen.
You and Peter had been dating for the best part of two years, and yes - you had sex. Good sex, at that, although there was always a mutual feeling of wanting more, something beyond the reasonably vanilla sex.
Maybe this would be the kickstarter.
Now, it was last period, and you were surprised that you had made it through the day. It was English, and where you had normally been focused on the learning, your eyes were glued to Peter in front of you.
He was the row in front and one to the left, so his hands were in perfect view. Was it weird, to be so obsessed with your own boyfriend? No, you thought. He made you like this.
The whole day before, you had been quiet in conversations, although not quiet enough for Peter to be suspicious. MJ had noticed at lunch, clearly more observant than Peter, and she has teased you relentlessly.
But you didnât care. He was hot.
You knew how wet you were - you could feel it every time you moved. It was unbearable, having to act completely fine all day when your mind was begging to be fucked. You prayed Peter couldnât tell.
âY/N?â Your English teacher, Mr. Robertson called.
âHm?â You snapped your eyes up. âYeah?â
âI asked you what you got for number seven?â
âOh,â Looking at the board, you tried to work the answer out in your head. âAlliteration, right?â
Mr. Robertson nodded, âPay more attention, please.â
âYes, sir.â You shifted in your chair, accidentally rolling over that sweet spot.
You felt yourself get even wetter, while you hoped the bell would ring sooner. Eyes falling back onto Peter, you noticed the hair on his arms was standing up, and his eyes went vacant, staring at his work.
Fuck, you thought. He knows.
You reached to into your bag under the desk, shuffling things around until you felt the cool glass of your perfume bottle. Pulling it out, you took the cap off and sprayed it over yourself a few times, deliberately pointing some in Peterâs direction.
His spidey-sense normally came in handy, but right now all you wanted was to cover up your own hormones. He didnât have to know, you said to yourself. It would be so embarrassing to explain - that you had been dumb all day over his hands, just from one simple change.
Eyeing the clock, you checked how long it was until the day would finally be over. Turns out it was only a few minutes - a few minutes until you could get home and get yourself under control-
Wait, you stopped mid-sentence. It was Thursday. That meant you werenât going home. Thursdays meant May wasnât home, so you always went to Peterâs for a movie night. Fuck.
âAnd on that note, pack up.â Mr. Robertson smiled, bringing you out of your thoughts.
Peter closed his jotter, turning around to face you. âAre you ok? Youâve been quiet today.â
âYeah,â you tried to act normal. âJust trying to pick a movie to watch tonight. Itâs my turn, right?â
He smiled. âPlease donât make me watch Love, Simon again. I love it- but I think I know it word for word at this point.â
Good, you thought. Maybe he hasnât noticed. âFine. Just because I love you.â
You shoved your jotter into your bag, throwing it over your shoulder and saying goodbye to Mr. Robertson. Every step you took caused more friction between your legs, it was torture. There was no way you could act normally.
Thankfully, the walk from school to Peterâs place wasnât too far, although he still lived with May and was in his last year of high school, you were glad that he was so close to you, all the time. It was nice to have him there.
Approaching his apartment building, the conversation was scarce - not awkward, though. Peter seemed to take your quietness as a hint, and you two walked in comfortable silence.
He held the door for you as you walked into the building, heading towards the stairs up to his floor. You could hear him behind you, rummaging around in his bag to find his keys.
When you got to his door, you turned, meeting his brown eyes - seeing something within them, something not too prominent, but there. It was new.
âSo, you decided on a movie?â Peter asked, closing the door behind him. âAnd please donât say 365 Days. May doesnât need that on our Netflix history.â
You laughed, âReally? I was looking forward to watching that.â
He rolled his eyes, pulling his bag off of his shoulder. âNo, baby. I will not watch glorified porn with you.â
âDamn,â you joked. âGuess Iâll have to settle for my second choice.â
âWhich is?â
â50 Shades.â
Peter scoffed. âNo. Absolutely not, princess. Thatâs not even on Netflix.â
You set your bag down next to his. âIâm kidding, babe. MJ was talking about this movie in science - itâs called Room. It sounds good.â
âAs long as itâs not a weird mafia sex movie.â Peter mumbled.
âI doubt it would be,â You giggled.
He walked over to the living room TV, picking up the remote and turning it on before you spoke;
âIâm gonna get changed, can I borrow a hoodie? This shirt is too tight.â
âYeah, go ahead,â He smiled. âBy borrow, you mean keep, right?â
You fake scoffed. âNever!â
Peter smirked. âItâs good, baby. You look good in my clothes anyway. Iâll get the movie on.â
Smiling, you walked into his room, pulling your own shirt off - leaving you in your bra. You walked up to Peterâs closet, looking for a hoodie you saw him wear the other day.
You searched through the hangers, not finding a single hoodie. Weird, you thought. Maybe he moved them into the drawers.
Turning around, you jumped when you saw Peter almost right in front of you, just a few feet ahead.
âChrist, Pete. Almost had a heart attack.â You laughed.
âI wanted to ask you about something.â His tone was smooth, almost totally opposing the joking tone he had just a minute ago.
âSure,â You smiled. âBut can I have some clothes on when you ask?â
You began to walk past him to his drawers, but were surprised when his hand caught your arm before you could pass.
âPete- Are you alright?â You could feel the rings pressing against your skin, and youâd be lying if you said it wasnât a huge turn on. You could feel the butterflies in your panties, which were already soaked from the day.
The hair on Peterâs arm stood up.
âThat,â he looked at his arm. âKeeps happening.â
âIs someone in trouble, maybe?â You tried to play it off.
Peter laughed a little. âNo, angel. No oneâs in trouble.â
You nodded. âThen what is it?â
âCome on, pretty girl,â he drawled. âLetâs not play dumb.â
His hand moved up from your wrist, slowing tracing your arm, going all the way up until Peterâs hand reached your face. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, but kept his hand there, cupping your cheek.
âI could smell you, all day,â He smirked. âThatâs why you kept spraying perfume, isnât it? You knew that Iâd smell how fuckinâ wet you are.â
Your breath hitched. Peter had never been like this before, never so outright. Hey, you didnât dislike it.
âPeter..â
âTell me, baby,â he looked back into your eyes before he pulled his hand away, running it through his curls. âWhatâs got you so needy?â
The words wouldnât come out. It was too embarrassing. What is he thought it was weird, what if it made him uncomfortable? Your mind raced.
âBaby,â His hand went to your chin, pulling it up so youâd look him in the eyes. âI asked you a question.â
You still couldnât speak, but instead looked down to his other hand, Peterâs own gaze following. He laughed a little when it clicked.
âOh,â he breathed, putting both hands next to each other. âmy hands?â
âI know itâs dumb, I donât know why I-â
Peter stopped you with just a look.
âNo, itâs not,â smirking, he raised his right hand and placed it back on your cheek. âItâs not weird.â
He seemed to recognise that you wanted more, just didnât want to say it, as he gave you a look as if you say âGo ahead, do whatever.â Peter could tell you a lot through looks.
You took a breath, reaching up to the hand on your shoulder, lifting it off and moving it up, slowing placing it on your neck, using your own hand to wrap it around.
The cool metal was nice against your skin, and although Peter could already smell your hormones, you knew they would be kicking off even more now that you had everything you wanted - his hand wrapped around your neck.
You moved youâre eyes back up to him, expecting him to look confused or uncomfortable, but instead there was just a vacant look on his face, something you had never seen before.
For a moment you thought he hated it, Peterâs blank look making you expect the worst, so you pulled away a little, letting your hand drop from on top of his.
But he didnât pull away.
His expression turned, going from blank to a small smirk, his eyes almost lighting up. âOh,â
You swallowed. âIs this ok?â
Peter nodded quickly. âThis is definitely ok.â
Smiling a little, you moved further into his grip, feeling the cool of his rings against your throat. You felt Peter tighten his grip slightly, which took you by surprise.
Letting out a small moan - much to Peterâs delight, you flushed red and looked into his eyes again.
He laughed a little, moving closer to you and running his other hand down your side.
âWeâre gonna have so much fun with this, angel.â

















