Tasm Peter for "can we take a break? I'm enjoying this but need a break" bc we all know Petey can get taken away w his super stamina
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥too much
REMEMBER - FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! you can request a blurb using this list or this one (18+) and add whatever you want to your submission!!! here is the link
warnings - 18+ - light smut
LAZING across your shared bed, the smell of incandescent sex lingering around you both, and Peter’s lips loitered over your own. Cheekily hovering, they waited, impatiently watching as your breathing evened out.
He was lying above you as you attempted to regain your breath, wiping your finger across the sweat dripping from your forehead. Peter kissed the little indents on your face, stopping at your cheek to nibble on your soft skin.
Your eyes flutter shut, sleep running to and from you as his kisses put occasional energizers to you. “Peter.”
“Hmm?”
“Baby, you know I love you.”
“I do.”
“And you have been doing so good for me all evening.” You praised as he nodded, Peter faintly whimpering into your ear. “But…”
“But…” he exhaled, and you moved a thumb along his cheek. Peter returns to lazily kissing you.
"Can we take a break?” You giggled between his kisses, Peter’s lips melding so hard into your skin they ghosted as he moved down to your torso. “I'm enjoying this but need a break."
“Already?”
“Yes!” You exclaimed back, pulling his face between your hands as his cheeks squished into your palms. “We’ve both finished three times!”
“And we should finish three more!” Peter exclaimed before kissing along the inside of your wrist and up to the curve of your neck, his hair tickling you across your skin.
“I want to, but I can’t.” You yawned.
“All you have to do is lie here,” he begged, stretching his long limbs across the edge of your bed, his brown eyes staring back as he peppered kisses along the inside of your legs. Peter nipped at your skin as he moved to the outside of your opening, his content hums vibrating beneath you.
“ Peter-“ you whined.
“Okay.” He said, loosely gripping your hips as he laid between your lower half. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
Peter raised you to a seated position, sitting next to you at the edge of the bed. “Tomorrow, I promise I’m all yours.”
He watched as your head fell to his shoulder, “Can’t wait.”
hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?
lipstick
warnings: ugh, peter
*
“how many times have you done that?”
peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.
you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”
“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”
you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.
instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”
“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”
“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”
“yes, and yes.”
it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.
he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”
you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”
“weird? how am i being weird?”
“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”
“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”
“you’re following me.”
peter smiles. “well, i like you.”
you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”
“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.
“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”
he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”
“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”
he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”
“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”
“‘s probably why i like it so much.”
his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.
“peter, we have to go.”
“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”
“i’m aware.”
you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.
“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.
“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.
“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.
“no.”
“how come?”
you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”
“you have more, don’t you?”
“not the point.”
“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”
“no, i do not.”
you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.
“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.
you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”
“i think we are.”
“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.
“that is a terrible compromise.”
“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”
peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”
“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”
“then how come we haven’t left yet?”
you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.
your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.
he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”
“are you british all of the sudden?”
peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”
“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.”
“no clue what you mean, dear.”
you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.
“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”
“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”
“that’s one option.”
you roll your eyes again.
“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”
“shove it, peter.”
“you don’t even want to hear it?”
you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”
peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.
the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.
“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.
“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.
and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.
you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.
but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.
you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.
but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.
and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”
“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”
peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”
“and you’re making it up to me later.”
“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.
you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.
Outside, the silence of the cold air dissipated quickly. It was soon filled with chaos and Sirens.
Peter had heard it come through a police radar, across town an armored truck was hijacked. The men who stole it were armed and considered extremely dangerous.
Peter shook his head as he slipped on his mask.
“Armed and dumb most likely” He muttered, annoyed with the night already. Though he couldn’t figure out why. Or more he didn’t want to admit why.
He hated how he felt giving you the cold shoulder. His mind kept playing the pout on your face when you turned to see he was no longer there.
“Focus Parker!” He reminded himself, or was he hearing your voice now? Like you’ve said to him every time you were studying together and he’d try working out a crime from the previous night in his head, instead of the assignment.
“If I was an armored truck, where would I be?” He pondered swinging from building to building, trying to climb higher for a better view.
Down below, police cars were setting up a blockade, complete with a spike strip, to try to stop the bandits from escaping their jurisdiction and causing any damage.
“Where are they?” Asked a police sergeant into his car radio.
“They’re heading your way on 5th Ave. And it looks like they’re not alone!” The chopper police responded.
“What do you mean not alone? Did they meet up with their gang or something?” He questioned, thinking there were only two of them in one armored truck, was one thing taking on a gang to boot was something he wasn’t sure they were prepared for.
“Give me that.” He heard a voice say. “ It’s that no-good Spider-Man!” The voice cried out with hatred.
“Who are you? And where did my deputy go?” The sergeant grilled
“I’m J. Jonah Jameson, I have full press access thanks to your benefactor.” He argued, “Now I don’t want any of you boys in blue to forget the Spider Freak is a wanted criminal and murder!”
“Don’t you worry. We haven’t forgotten what he did to one of our own.” The Sergeant remarked, looking darkly at the tops of the nearby buildings.
High above Peter could make out the incoming armored vehicle.
Following closely above it was a police helicopter. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed the barricade being set up, but the armoured truck was going too fast.
“They need more time. I’ve got to get them to chase me or find some way to slow them down.” Peter muttered.
He really didn’t want to be mixed up dealing with the cops tonight but if he didn’t step in someone was going to get hurt.
boyfriend! peter thoughts bc i need to talk about it like now
-always sitting on his lap. always. whenever you’re in his room and he’s at his desk doing work he pats his knee and you trot over and sit on his knee and he bounces it slightly while he explains his work while you just listen and nod
- takes photos of you 24/7 and sticks them up all over his room. he also has a polaroid camera where he takes dirty photos of you and looks at them while he jerks off
-builds lego sets with you and keeps the extra pieces at the end of the build to make something else for you out of the spares
-whenever you get anxious or overwhelmed he shields you from the world, answering questions for you, calming you down, ordering for you etc
- he is always playing with your hair or jewelry or some part of you he can reach and admire. also a reason to smell your perfume
-im getting a weird feeling about gummy worms. like he always has some? just on him to randomly pull out and munch on? his fav are the yellow and red
-you often stand on his toes to kiss him bc hes reallyyy tall
-he always guides you through sex. always. coaxing you through things, checking in on you. i have a feeling he cooes at you a lot, that faux pity voice that drives me wild.
-when he drives you places he has a hand on your thigh, on your headrest when hes backing up and he always has an old radio station that no one cares about but he does for some reason
-really into bondage. or that whole helplessness thing. knowing youre so fragile and vulnerable with him drives him wild bc he feels like he can corrupt you
-so supportive. even if its kinda from a distance, like maybe hes not the loudest one clapping bc he is kinda introverted, he always shows up to your events and supports you/ gives you so many pep talks about how awesome you are
- likes head scratches and when you nibble on his fingers
- teaches you video games without mansplaining things and then lets you teach him your interests
summary: you're late to your class and someone's left a skateboard on your path. the owner of the skateboard has very brown eyes.
w/c: 0.8k
author's note: um, hi. this is the first thing i've written for peter parker (i know, shocking, i mostly read about him) so i'm not sure whether i've captured his essence, but i tried. also i know it's a bit cringey but i started writing it in the reader's pov and i couldn't change it to peter's in the middle like i wanted to so, i guess, next time. i hope you like this! constructive criticism is encouraged, please be nice :)
you had not imagined your first day of university to go this way. it was a cloudy day, pleasant and not too windy. you were hoping to make it to class a few minutes early and have everything set up before the professor arrived.
but instead, you were late, you were not organized at all, and you were panicking. all because your stupid alarm hadn’t gone off. why? because you’d forgotten to change the timezone in your phone. moving to the new city had not been easy and now you were super late for your class.
cursing yourself for your stupidity, you were hurrying across the campus, you weren’t sure where your class was, but you were hoping that you’re walking in the right direction.
checking your bag, hoping to god that you’d grabbed the right books on your way out, with a cup of coffee in your other hand, you awkwardly jogged across the campus to the building where you hoped would be philosophy by mr. jackson.
you were in the midst of congratulating yourself on successfully having the correct textbooks in your bag when the earth shifted.
okay maybe that was a bit dramatic but that was what had happened to you. the earth hadn’t shifted, but you’d fallen on your butt because someone had left a skateboard lying in the middle of the walking path.
thankfully, your coffee hadn’t spilled but your books sure had. looking up you found a brown-haired boy bashfully kneeling down and start collecting the books, profusely apologizing.
"-really sorry, are you okay? did you break anything? i broke my ankle a couple of years ago but i was just being stupid, oh god did you break your ankle? i hope you didn't, that hurts a lot. i'm so so sorry, are you okay?" he finished, turning his brown eyes on you in concern.
he looked very... soft. he was wearing a brown jacket and a navy blue zip up over a light blue tshirt. his headphones were hanging out of the neck of his tshirt. he looked like he smiled a lot. his brown hair was ruffled, his brows furrowed and you realized he was still waiting for your answer.
"i dont think i've broken my ankle if that's what you're worried about," you sat up. your butt was sore, but other than that you were okay.
"okay, that's good, that's a start, anything else broken?" he bit his lip, and you tried not to stare at it.
"no, doesn't feel like it," you took a breath, and looked away from him, towards the guilty board, "why don't you explain why your skateboard was just lying there?"
he helped you up, your coffee was still intact, you dusted yourself off.
"oh, uh yeah, again, i'm really sorry, i was checking my schedule on whether philosophy was right now or in an hour and i didn't realise it had rolled away from me," he did look very guilty, his frown saying as much.
he returned your books and you stuffed them in your bag which was lying on the ground. he was still looking at you.
"be careful then," say something clever, why wasn't your brain working?
"i'm really sorry," he offered, why was he still looking at you?
he picked his own bag up from the ground and looked away, grabbing his skateboard too.
you blinked.
"i think philosophy is right now,"
he looked at you again.
"which reminds me," you walked past him, fast. almost running, looking straight ahead.
philosophy is right now and you are very late.
"um, hey!" you heard him call out and turned around, still walking. he was facing your direction, looking at you again.
"philosophy by mr. jackson?" he asked, his skateboard in one hand and his brown bag slung across his back. did he really like the color brown?
"yeah," you called back, hoping he didn't have the same class as you.
"his classroom's that way," he pointed his thumb behind him.
goddamnit.
you stopped and started walking in his direction and he joined with you as you went past him. he took the hint that you were late and didn't really feel like making conversation. you tried not to visually show your panic but he seemed like a good observer.
you both reached the classroom (it was the first room in the building how could you have missed it?), and saw that yeah, you guys were very late.
the classroom was full, and a middle aged man was already talking to the students. professor jackson noticed you both before you had a chance to say anything.
"ah late on the first day, not making a good impression mr. and miss...?"
"peter- uh parker, peter parker," the boy next to you said.
you introduced yourself and mr. jackson let you both get to your seats without further embarrassment.
you sat down, pulled your textbook out and tried listening to what the professor was saying.
you looked for him and found peter parker's brown eyes already on you.
