have you ever tried this one? | 0.4k - @sluvaffair
hurts, but i know how to hide it. kinda like it | 5.3k - @uhhhj13iguess (neighbors, spider-like descriptors, lowkey scary, dubcon bc he's not in a clear state of mind)
brand new spidey | 2.8k - @sluvaffair
inhibitor off | 0.4k - @makeyoumine69
sensory overload | 0.4k - @cherrywineisawaltz
mask on, fuck it, mask of | 8.4k - @dearwalker (sex pollen)
✩ general smut ✩
peter cumming in his pants when you sit on his face! | 0.5k - @nobodys-s0n
down bad! peter parker who fucks like he’s mindless! | 0.7k - @nobodys-s0n
headlock | 0.3k - @carmysdoll (biceps good lord)
cumming in his pants while making out | 0.5k - @drvnkinlov
STICKY….. peter finds some solace in his neighbour | 0.4k - @herodrip (touch starved!peter & overstimulation)
small vivid memories | 1.1k - @snowynns (filming sex)
peter fucking his college gf with the mask on! | 0.4k - @glossiercheek
every day of the week | 0.8k - @pittsick
buntanteen note: peter parker, how i've missed you…i wanted to dip back into the peter parker x reader tag after years and it did not disappoint. hilariously, this account started because i wanted to read spider-man fanfiction, so this is quite full circle.
anyways, i'm just a lil kpop account now, so please don’t expect any more mcu related stuff in the future. if you enjoyed these works, please give the authors some love!! <3
1.9k wc. 18+peter.
mcu!peter. needy!peter whimpering!peter pup nickname mommy kink cheater!reader teasing orgasm denial edging choking begging hand job ball play university au slight smau
Peter Parker is the sweet, soft-spoken chemistry partner. He gave you the kind of gentle attention your boyfriend never bothers to give. Playful texts turn into something else as one message was sent to the wrong person, and soon Peter is climbing through your window.
The chem lab always smelled like solvent and burnt coffee, the kind of fluorescent-lit hell that made every elective feel like you were back in highschool. You’d only signed up because you needed the credit and the time slot didn’t clash with anything else. Peter Parker had been assigned as your partner in week two. He was quiet, brilliant, always showing up with faintly bruised knuckles, but nevertheless they look soft. He looked soft.
He started saving you a seat after the third lab.
Just a quiet little habit. He’d already have his notebook open, backpack on the neighboring stool, and when you walked in he’d glance up and give you that small, shy smile like he’d been waiting. Then he’d talk first. Always.
“Hey. How’s your day going?”“Did you sleep okay? You look tired.”“That online quiz in organic was brutal, right? How’d you do?”
He asked like he actually wanted the answer. He’d listen with those perfect brown eyes fixed on you, soft and warm, head tilted a little, nodding at the right parts. He was gentle in a way that felt rare. Soft-spoken. He was adorable when he got excited about a reaction working the way it was supposed to and his whole face lit up. He made you melt without even trying. The kind of sweetness you’d been hoping for from your boyfriend and never got.
Your boyfriend only texted when he wanted something. A ride. Attention. Validation. Never just to check in.
So when your phone buzzed during the post-lab write up, you almost didn’t look.
You rolled your eyes looking at your boyfriends texts and moved on to the next chat. Peter’s message was already waiting.
You alternated between Peter and your boyfriend’s messages. You were grinning at your phone—having actual fun for once—that you must’ve swiped and accidentally clicked too fast, sending a risky text to Peter and re-sent a homework link…to your boyfriend.
Your pulse kicked hard. You stared at the screen, thumbs hovering. You could’ve stopped Peter from coming over but you knew exactly what you were doing, because you knew exactly who you really wanted.
You bit your lip. This was wrong. You had a boyfriend. You knew that. The messages are right there. But Peter listened. He made sure you were okay and actually waited for you. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room. And right now he was offering himself up like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You didn’t correct the mix-up. You just texted Peter the address and said you’d wait for him.
Sooner enough, the soft scrape of sneakers on the fire escape ladder reached you. You opened the window. Peter climbed in quiet as a shadow, hoodie pulled up, cheeks slightly flushed.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Wow that was fast…”
He walked closer to you and pulled you in by the waist. You grabbed the front of his hoodie and dragged him into a kiss that was all teeth and need. He made a soft, broken sound against your mouth and melted into it, hands hovering like he was afraid to touch until you yanked them around your waist. The kiss turned filthy and fast, tongues sliding, breath shared, the weeks of tension snapping all at once. You walked him backward until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He went down easy. You followed, straddling his lap, grinding down against the hard line of his cock through his jeans.
All Peter did was whimper.
You pushed him flat and climbed higher, knees bracketing his ribs, one hand sliding up to curl around his throat slightly hard, squeezing just enough pressure to make his eyes flutter and his hips jerk up into nothing.
“Please,” he breathed, voice already wrecked. “Please I’ve been waiting—”
“Not yet.” You squeezed a little tighter, watching the way his mouth fell open. “You’ve been so patient and good for me so far.”
His hands settled on your hips, fingers flexing like he needed the contact to stay grounded. You rolled your hips once, slow, letting him feel the heat of you through layers of fabric, then lifted off of him. He made a desperate little sound.
You sat back on his thighs and popped the button of his jeans. The zipper came down next. His cock sprang free, flushed and already leaking, the head shiny. You wrapped your fist around him and gave one firm stroke from base to tip. Peter’s head tipped back, a high, needy moan spilling out.
“Look at this fucking cock,” you murmured, thumb smearing the thick bead of precum across his slit until it glistened. “So hard for me already. Did you get like this just from texting me? Sitting in lab next to me all semester, saving my seat like a good boy, asking about my day while I bet your dick was twitching under the table, leaking into your jeans?”
“Y-yes—fuck—”
You tightened your fist and started stroking him slow and filthy, twisting hard on the upstroke, rubbing the sensitive underside of the head until his hips jerked. Every time he tried to fuck up into your hand you pinned his hips down.
“Stay still. Don’t you dare move, pup.”
He whined at the nickname, high and broken, thighs shaking. You kept the strokes lazy and tight, stopping dead every time his breathing got too sharp. When you finally leaned down and dragged the flat of your tongue across his dripping tip, tasting him, he nearly sobbed.
His hand twitched toward your hair.
You slammed his wrist back above his head.
“Nuh-uh. Hands back.”
Peter’s eyes were glassy, pupils blown. “I-I’m sorry, Mommy…”
The word went straight to your body. You rewarded him with another slow, filthy lick, then sucked just the swollen head into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks. His whole body jerked. You pulled off with a wet, obscene pop and shifted lower, cupping his tight balls, rolling them in your palm while your other hand kept stroking him in long, teasing pulls that left him dripping all over your fingers.
“Been thinking about this, haven’t you?” you asked, voice low and mean. “The way you’re leaking for me and calling me ‘mommy’ already. This whole time you just wanted me to ruin this pretty cock. Wanted me to use you, is that right?”
“F-Fuck..mmph—yes—please—”
“Poor thing.” You squeezed his balls firmer, just shy of pain, and watched his stomach jump. “All that smart brain and all you can think about is getting your cock wrecked by me. Tsk tsk, Parker.”
You kept him there forever—stroking, pausing, licking the tip, mouthing and sucking on his balls, never giving him a steady rhythm. Every time his hips started to rock you stopped completely and waited until he was panting and begging like a whore.
“Mmh’Please, Mommy—please, I need you— I’ll be so fucking good, I swear—mm!”
You crawled back up his body and kissed him deep, slipping your tongue into his mouth so he could taste his own precum. Your fist never stopped working his cock, slow and merciless.
“You want me to ride this cock?” you asked against his mouth.
He nodded frantically, almost crying.
“Then ask like a good boy.”
“Please-Please ride me, Mommy. Please use my cock!—mm’fuck yourself on me—I need it—need you…”
You pulled back, stripping your clothes off while he did the same. He stared at you like he was starving. When you finally moved your hips again, you sank down onto him without a warning, inch by thick inch, his moan were even louder. You took every inch until your ass was flush to his hips, cunt pulsing hard around him just to watch his face fall apart.
“Fuck—you’re so fucking warm—so tight—”
You started moving. Slow at first. Rolling your hips, grinding your pussy down on him, lifting almost all the way off so just the head stayed inside before slamming back down. One hand locked around his throat. The other braced on his chest. “What did I say about your hands? Put them back behind your head.” He whimpered in response and did as you told.
Every time he tried to thrust up you squeezed his neck and stopped moving completely.
Peter moaned, high and desperate, hips twitching uselessly. “Mommy—please—your cunt feels so good, I can feel you pulsing around my cock, it’s—fuck—don’t stop—”
You stayed still, deliberately clenching and fluttering around him, feeling his dick throb and leak inside you. “I control this cock. You take what I give you, repeat it.”
“Yes, Mommy. I-I take what you give me. I-—sorry mmgh—please—God! you’re so warm and wet, I-can feel you squeezing my dick—Oh my—”
You rode him harder after that, but never enough for him. Kept him right on the edge, changing tempo the second his breathing got too desperate. Filthy praise and nasty commands poured out of you between wet kisses and how pretty he looked when he was about to cry, how good his cock felt stretching your cunt, how he was going to hold his load in until you said so.
When you finally let the pace build, Peter was shaking underneath you, eyes glossy, mouth open on constant broken little pleas. You could feel him getting close by the way his eyes would roll back and his lips parted without him saying a word. The way his cock twitched and swelled, the way his balls drew up tight, the way his voice cracked on every moan.
You slowed again. Almost stopped.
He sobbed. “No! Please—Mommy—please—I’m so close—I’m so close, I’m so close—your cunt feels too good!—I can’t—”
“Hold it,” you ordered, voice low and cruel, hand still wrapped tight around his throat. “You don’t fucking cum until I say so. Understand? Want to keep being a good boy for me, right?”
“Y-yes—please—” He nodded carefully while his whole body was trembling with the effort, hips stuttering in aborted little thrusts. “You’re p-pulsing—so wet— wet—I can feel every squeeze—fuck—I can feel you dripping—”
You leaned down, tongue lightly brushing his ear, and started moving again with deep rolls of your hips that kept him right on the edge; the mixture of your cunt and his balls slapping together creating a wet skin slap and milking him with every grind.
“Good boy. Stay right there for me. Don’t you dare cum for me yet.”
He whimpered, high and shattered, he couldn’t help but remove his hands from his head and tightly grip your hips, fingers digging bruises into them as he fought his load back. You dragged it out just a little longer, feeling his cock throb and twitch desperately inside you, listening to every broken cry of his with skin wet sounds.
“Cum for me, pup. Fill my pussy up. Show me how much you needed this.”
He broke with a wrecked cry, hips jerking hard as he flooded you with his cum, thick and hot. You kept riding him through it, grinding down to milk every last spurt out of him until he was oversensitive and sobbing, then finally slowed and collapsed forward against his chest.
Both of you were breathing hard. Peter’s hands came up, shaky and hesitant, and rested on your back like he still wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch.
You kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Good job…”
He nodded, voice completely destroyed. “Always. Whatever you want. Just… don’t make me leave yet.”
You smiled against his skin and stayed right where you were, his cum already starting to leak out around his softening cock.
summary: Peter Parker knows something inside him is changing, and it gets harder to fight it every night. Then there’s you, who happens to be the one it won’t leave alone.
note: i am so hungry, and i hope this will also make you all full of peter. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!
Walking home alone with too much alcohol in your system makes the city streets feel a little less lonely at night. You stumble slightly over the curb while you check your phone for the time. Spiderman is out there swinging between the buildings somewhere above you. You know he exists without ever trying to follow where he goes. Seeing him on the news occasionally is enough for you. You keep walking down the sidewalk until footsteps drop from the rooftops above you. Tonight feels like an ordinary walk home before someone bumps right into you. Peter is fighting bad headaches that won’t go away no matter what he tries to do about it. His arachnid genes are acting abnormally lately and pushing past his human side in ways he can’t control. He spends his nights searching for a cure because the animal instincts keep taking over his thoughts. Stress makes the biological changes worse tonight since his mind is already exhausted, and seeing MJ kissing another man at her housewarming party earlier today makes it worse.
Watching her with someone else triggered something feral inside him, and it doesn’t help that no one remembers who Peter Parker is anymore. His arachnid instincts take over as he drops over the street before he bumps right into your path. Organic web shoots directly from his wrists instead of mechanical shooters before it wraps around your waist. He grabs you with him to swing around until both of you are up on a rooftop. You don’t know Spiderman personally for him to do that so you think you are in danger as he lands on the roof. The spinning motion, together with the drinks in your stomach, creates a terrible feeling by the time you reach the top of the building. You immediately bend over to throw up all the alcohol in your stomach right onto the roof. He watches you puke before he lets out a loud laugh. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand while he just looks at you and shakes his head.
That first night didn’t end up so terrible because Spiderman brought you home safely after you threw up on the roof. He even apologized for grabbing you off the sidewalk before he left you outside your building. Running into him once feels like a simple coincidence when you think about it the next morning. He knows he doesn’t mean to keep doing it, but he saw you walking home alone weeks later and decided to give you another ride across the city. Happening twice is already something unusual, yet a third or fifth time tells both of you that this is no longer an accident. He can’t control the urges yet since he hasn’t managed to suppress his arachnid genes. Everything that happened on that first night opened his eyes to the idea of trying again. He isn’t actively searching for another girlfriend, though he feels open to the possibility now. He doesn’t understand why his arachnid side feels so protective over you whenever you are out late at night.
He isn’t stalking you by any means, yet his senses alert him whenever someone gets too close to you on the street. He has no idea why his biological instincts react so strongly whenever you walk home alone after a night out. The urge to check on you keeps happening without any clear explanation. Maybe he even programmed your details into E.V so his tech tracks you whenever the cameras catch you walking by yourself. E.V notifies his mask display whenever you leave a building late at night so he can make sure the streets are clear. He tells himself it’s just a safety measure to keep you out of trouble. You never actually saw each other face to face during any of those times E.V watched over you from above. He waited up on the roofs while you walked down the pavement. You only knew he was around when he decided to drop down to pick you up for another ride home. Those repeated trips across the city happened several more times over the past few weeks.
Neither of you talks about why he keeps showing up whenever you are out late. His arachnid side feels satisfied whenever he drops you off safely at your front door. He never fails to bring you home after you finish drinks with your friends. Tonight tests his patience because the alcohol in your system makes you act way too clingy. You wrap your arms around his shoulders instead of holding onto him normally while he takes you above the street. You press your face into his neck right over his collar. He tries to ignore the way you rub your nose against him as he moves between the buildings. “Don’t move around so much up here,” he grunts while he checks the distance to the next roof. You ignore his warning before you inhale the scent of his suit right against his throat. Your mouth opens against the material as you leave small pecks along his neck. He tenses up when your teeth bite down on him through the fabric.
His senses are already too sensitive tonight, so your mouth against his neck distracts him. His web misses the next building after your teeth catch him by surprise. “F-fuck- what are you doing?” he curses as he brings you closer against his chest. Both of you almost fall before he shoots another web to find support and avoid touching the ground. “You smell good,” you mumble against his throat while your teeth nip at him again. He manages to get both of you across the rest of the blocks without falling again. He lands on the floor of your balcony before he sets you down. You refuse to let go of his shoulders even after your feet touch the ground. His arachnid side reacts badly because your mouth keeps trailing over his neck. “Stop biting me,” he warns you as his hands hold your waist. He backs you toward the wall of your apartment while his breathing turns ragged behind his mask. “Mmm- no,” you say before you tug him closer by his shoulders.
He looks down at you with his chest heaving while he tries to control his urges. He raises one arm while he keeps you against the wall of the balcony. A line of web shoots from his wrist toward the knob of your balcony door. It sticks to the handle before he pulls his arm back to slide the door open. He wants you inside because standing out here makes everything too complicated. You ignore the open door while you keep your arms around his shoulders. Your hands leave his shoulders before you reach up toward his mask. You try to pull the red fabric up over his chin so you can look at his face. His right hand leaves your waist before his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from lifting it higher. He pushes your hand away from his face while he looks down at you. “Don’t do that,” he warns you as he shoves your wrist back down between your bodies. You try to reach for the mask again with your other hand, but he blocks you easily.
“I can’t let you see me,” he tells you while he keeps your hands away from his head. The alcohol in your system makes you stubborn, so you push your hands against his chest in frustration. You hate that he stops you every time you try to see who hides behind the mask. “That’s not fair,” you complain while you try to wiggle your wrists away from his fingers. He keeps you against the wall while your feet kick slightly against the floor. “You always pick me up and bring me home, but you won’t even show me your face,” you whine as you bump your forehead against his shoulder. He watches you throw a tantrum before he finally lets go of your wrists to guide you through the open balcony door into your living room. He swats your hands away whenever you try to touch his chest again. He walks you backward across the floor while he watches your face. “You’re too drunk tonight,” he tells you as he tries to keep some space between your bodies.
You ignore his warning before you wrap your hands around his arms. “I’m very aware of what I’m doing,” you complain while your fingers caress the fabric of his sleeves. He tries to shake you off, but you refuse to let go of him. You look up at him while he keeps walking you backward across the room. “Don’t you want a reward for keeping me safe?” you ask him while your hands move up to his shoulders. He shakes his head immediately before he tries to remove your hands from his suit. “You need to sleep,” he answers while he pushes you toward your bedroom hallway. You hate that he keeps rejecting you after everything he did for you tonight. You stop walking backward so you can look up at his face. He pulls the bottom of his mask up just enough above his chin to leave his lips exposed so he can catch his breath. You stare at his mouth while he tries to get you to move again.
You lean forward quickly to try to kiss his lips. He catches your shoulders with his hands before your mouth can touch him. He pushes you back away from him while he turns his head to the side. “No,” he warns you as he holds you at arm’s length. You stumble backward into your bedroom while you look at him in disbelief. “Why won’t you let me thank you?” you whine before you try to step toward him again. He acts quickly by shooting a thick line of web around both of your forearms to bind your wrists together behind your back so you stop grabbing him. You stumble back a step until the back of your knees hit the mattress, and you sit down. His hands reach for your ankles before he starts taking your shoes off your feet. He tosses your shoes aside while he tries to ignore the way you keep staring down at him. You spread your legs wider apart on the edge of the mattress to get his attention.
He tries to ignore what you are doing while he drops your second shoe onto the floor. You lift your right leg before you place your foot right on his shoulder. You use your leg to pull his shoulder closer toward the bed. He shakes his head at you while he kneels on the floor between your knees. “Why are you acting like you don’t want me?” you whine while you pout down at his mask. He lets out a loud sigh before he leans forward between your knees. He drops his forehead right against your thigh with his shoulders tensed up. The mask is rolled up above his chin so his mouth is uncovered. His exposed lips touch the fabric of your pants while he rests his head on your leg. “You’re making it really hard for me to behave tonight,” he warns you as his chest rises against your knees. You feel his breath through your pants while he keeps his forehead on your thigh. He tries to control his arachnid side before he does something he can’t take back.
You feel the web that binds your arms together behind your back. The alcohol makes you bold, so you lean your chest closer toward his face. “I wouldn’t mind if you tied the rest of me up with your web,” you tease him while you nudge his shoulder with your foot. He lifts his head from your thigh to look up at your face. His jaw tightens after he hears what you want him to do. “Jesus- don’t give me ideas like that,” he mutters before his hands reach up to hold your hips. He pulls you closer to the edge of the mattress until your thighs surround his chest. He refuses to back away from you now that you invited him closer. “I can’t do much with my arms tied up anyway,” you tease him while you look down at his exposed mouth. He looks at your face before his hand reaches up to grab your ankle. He removes your foot from his shoulder and sets your heel down onto the floor between his knees. “Are you really going to leave me here like this?” you ask him before you nudge his side with your leg. He shakes his head as he kneels on the floor in front of you.
“This is some freaky shit you’re doing tonight,” you joke while you watch his jaw tighten. He keeps looking at you like he is trying to figure out how far you are going to push this. “Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he warns you while his jaw tightens behind his mask. He keeps his head down as he tries to ignore the way you lean toward him. “If you won’t untie me, then at least help me get my pants off,” you complain while you tilt your chin down at him. You don’t really care about changing your clothes tonight. You only want to make it look like you need help so you can see how far you can push his patience. He looks down at your lap before his thumbs touch the waistband of your pants. He knows you are trying to mess with him, but he refuses to back away from the bed. “Come on, do the belt first,” you chuckle while you wiggle your hips slightly on the mattress. He looks up at your face while he kneels on the floor between your knees.
You watch him hesitate before he reaches for the front of your waist. Both of his hands move to the belt around your pants so he can undo it for you. He removes the belt from your waist. He drags the strap free while you keep your attention on his exposed mouth. He drops the belt onto the floor before his hands return to the sides of your waist. “You took the belt off, but you aren’t going to unzip them?” you complain while you shake your head at him. You start pulling your wrists apart behind your back while he kneels in front of you. “What the fuck is that about?” you ask him while you try to push your hips forward on the mattress. You manage to tear through some of the web around your hands even though it doesn’t come off all the way. You keep pulling your wrists apart while you wait for him to answer you. He hears the web tearing behind your back while he kneels between your knees. He doesn’t try to stop your hands from moving because he is just letting you have your fun.
He ignores what you are doing behind your back while his thumbs move to the top of your pants. “Just stop moving for a second,” he tells you before his fingers pop the button open. He pulls the zipper down until your pants open wide at your waist. You spread your legs wider on the edge of the bed so he can take them off. You wait for him to lean closer, but he surprises you by moving away instead. He crawls backward on his knees two steps away from the edge of the mattress. He pushes your knees together with his hands before he grabs the waistband of your pants. He pulls the pants all the way down your legs in one motion until they slide off your ankles. You smirk down at him because he stripped them off you so easily. “You can look,” you tease him when you notice him turn his head to the side. Your smirk grows bigger as you watch him avoid looking at your red panties. “I’m trying really hard to be responsible here,” he mutters while he looks away from you.
He keeps his eyes away from your waist while he drops your pants onto the floor beside him. “You don’t always have to be the good guy,” you tease him while you wiggle your knees on the edge of the mattress. You pull your wrists apart harder behind your back while you wait for him to look at you. “They match your suit,” you point out as you lean your chest forward. He turns his head back toward you before his eyes drop down to your red panties. He doesn’t mean to stare, but your words make him look anyway. “I knew you wanted to see,” you laugh while you keep working your wrists apart behind your back. He shakes his head at you while he kneels on the floor between your feet. “You’re not helping my case here,” he groans before he looks up at your face. You stretch the last strands of web behind you while you watch him hesitate. “Take them off,” you tell him as you tilt your chin down at him.
His jaw tightens while he tries to ignore what you want him to do. “It won’t hurt anyone if you do,” you add while your shoulders twist on the bed. His human side wants to back away so he doesn’t take advantage of you. His arachnid instincts fight harder against him because every second near you makes him want to stop holding back. He keeps his mouth shut while his hands hover over his knees. You force your wrists apart until the web snaps behind your back. You bring your arms forward so your hands sit in your lap. The web still covers your fingers and wrists, but your arms are finally free. You grin down at him while you show off what you did. He scoffs at your face because you look so proud of yourself. “You know I let you do that, right?” he asks you while his mouth almost forms a smirk. You ignore his excuse before you rest your hands against your thighs. “I’m stronger than you thought,” you boast while you look down at his exposed lips.
He shakes his head while he reaches forward to touch your knees. You lift your hands to grab his mask again, but he tilts his head back away from your reach. “Keep trying that, and I’m going to tie you to the bed,” he warns you while his hands move up from your knees to your waist. He looks up at your face before his thumbs hook over the waistband of your red panties. “Yeah? With your web?” you smirk down at him as you open your knees wider against his sides. You ignore what his hands are doing at your hips before you grab the bottom of your shirt. You pull the top over your head in one motion and toss it across the bedroom floor. Taking off your shirt leaves you sitting on the mattress in only your underwear and your bra while he kneels between your feet. “Jesus- I told you to stop making this worse,” he mutters while his jaw clenches below the rolled fabric of his mask. You reach your hands behind your back to undo the clasps of your bra so you can take it off too.
He raises his right hand before a line of web shoots from his wrist right onto the center of your bra. He yanks his arm backward so the web snaps the clasps open behind you and pulls the bra away from your chest. He catches the bra with his right hand and throws it into the corner of the room. “I told you not to be stubborn,” he warns you while he drops his right arm back to your waist. You cross your arms over your chest to cover yourself because you didn’t expect him to strip you like that. Your face heats up while you look down at his exposed mouth in surprise. You look up at his eyes through the mask and think they look like they are turning black. You blame the dark room and the bad lighting for making his eyes look so strange. He knows it isn’t the lighting because his arachnid genes are fighting harder to push past his human side. His animal instincts want to take over now that you are sitting unprotected in front of him.
Both of his hands return to your hips before his thumbs hook into the waistband of your red panties. You push his hands away from your waist before you crawl backward toward the middle of the mattress. He gets up from the floor while he watches you get to your feet on the bed. You hook your thumbs into the sides of your panties to push them down your legs. You kick the red fabric off your ankles before you throw it right at his chest. “I can take them off myself,” you tease him while you stand naked in front of him. He catches the underwear with one hand before he lets it drop onto the floor. He tries to avoid looking right between your legs, but his arachnid side takes over. He raises his wrist before a line of web hits your stomach. He yanks his arm backward to pull you off the mattress and into the middle of the bedroom. The web lifts you up so your feet leave the floor. “What the fuck- are you serious right now?” you laugh while you kick your legs in the air.
He ignores you before he lifts his other wrist to send another web around your right forearm. He attaches the other end to the ceiling so your right arm stretches above your head. He casts more web across your waist before he connects the ends to the walls to keep you in place. The web holds you high enough so your hips align with his waist. You yank your free left arm around to see what he will do about it. He releases another line of web around your left wrist before you can swing at him again. He pulls your left arm upward before he attaches the end to the ceiling on the opposite side of the room. Both of your arms spread wide open above your head while the web wraps down to your elbows so you can’t pull your hands down. “Are you going to fuck me like this, spidey?” you tease him while you try to wiggle your hips against the web. He watches you test the hold before he shakes his head at your consistency in trying to get into his pants.
“You wanted me to tie you up,” he grunts before he sends more web across your chest and hips. He attaches the ends to the walls around you until you have nowhere else to go. Your legs dangle in the air while your feet hover above the floor. He aims his wrist at your right leg to put web around your thigh before he lifts your knee up to the side to connect the end to the wall. “Like what you see?” you tease him while you look down at where his eyes drop. He ignores your joke before he raises his left wrist to release more web around your left calf and ankle. He pulls your other knee upward and attaches that web to the opposite wall so your legs spread wide apart. The web bends your knees back until your feet hang high off the bedroom floor. Your entire body hangs in the center of the bedroom right at his hip level with your knees bent back. The web covers your forearms before it wraps around your waist to hold your body up in the air.
Your bent legs hang open so your chest and your cunt are exposed to his eyes. He steps right between your spread knees while he looks down at your waist. You can’t move your limbs away while he stands right in front of you with his mask rolled up above his mouth. “You’re not so talkative now,” he mutters while he looks at your face. You try to wiggle your hips against the web, but it holds you tight in the air. His suited hands reach toward your thigh where the web wraps around your leg. His hands trail slowly over the web while you watch his mouth open slightly. “What’s wrong, spidey? Are you going to leave me here like this?” You laugh as you push your hips forward. His hand leaves your thigh before his palm slaps hard against your exposed cunt. “Ah-! F-fuck-” you gasp while your thighs flex against the web. He watches you react to the slap while his head tilts to the side. “I told you to stop testing me,” he warns you before his hand rests against your inner thigh.
He lifts his left hand between your legs before he presses his covered palm right between your legs. He rubs his palm over you while you try to push your hips forward to meet his hand. The web around your waist holds you in place so you can’t grind against his palm. “Is this what you want?” he asks you while his fingers trace over your wetness. You nod at him while you pout down at his exposed mouth. “You can’t tie me up like this and not give me anything,” you complain as your knees pull against the web. He hums at your answer before he rubs his palm harder against your cunt. “Nnngh-” you gasp while you try to close your legs, but the web keeps your knees apart. He watches your mouth open while he keeps working his hand between your thighs. You try to move your hips again, but the web holds your waist in the air. “You’re really asking me to do this?” he asks you while his teeth clench below the red fabric.
He slows his hand down between your thighs while he waits for your answer. “That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to do all night,” you answer while you look down at his face. He stops rubbing your cunt before he pulls his hand away from between your legs. He takes a step back from your feet before he turns around so his back faces your body. He reaches for the shoulders of his suit and starts pulling the fabric down his chest. You watch him peel the top half of the suit off his back while he stands in the middle of the room. “What about the mask?” you ask him as he pushes the suit past his waist. He keeps his back turned toward you while he steps out of the bottom half of the suit. “The mask isn’t coming off,” he tells you while he drops the suit onto the floor. He wears only his boxers and the red mask over his head before he turns around to face your spread knees. He brings his right hand back between your legs without the suit in his way anymore.
He brushes his middle finger down your folds while his thumb presses against your clit. You bite your lower lip and try to wiggle your knees, but the web around your hips stops you from moving closer. He raises his left wrist and shoots another band of web around your right thigh to stop you from moving around. “Ah-! Why did you do that?” you whine as the web wraps tight around your leg. He ignores your complaint before he slips two fingers inside your cunt. “You look adorable tied up in my web like this,” he tells you while he watches your mouth open. You try to push your hips forward to take more of his fingers, but the web holds you back. “Yeah? Adorable enough to actually fuck?” you tease him while you look down at his face. His lips curve up into a smile below his mask before he pushes his fingers deeper inside you. “Nngh-! F-fuck-” you gasp as his fingers move inside your wetness. He watches your chest rise and fall while he keeps his hand between your thighs.
“You’re so desperate tonight, you can’t even wait five seconds,” he mutters while he curls his fingers inside your entrance. He pushes his hand deeper between your legs while you look down at his mask. “You’re still holding back on me,” you complain while you try to move your knees against the web. He steps closer between your spread legs and brings his face right next to your neck. His exposed lips press against your throat before he speaks against you. “I’m only doing this for your own good,” he whispers while his fingers work inside your cunt. It’s been years since the last time he touched someone like this or actually had sex with anyone. That’s the main reason he’s been holding back as much as he can all night. His arachnid side wants to swallow his human genes so his animal instincts can take control over his actions. He knows he’s on the edge of breaking if he keeps touching you like this.
He pushes his fingers deeper between your thighs while he listens to your breathing change. You squeeze your cunt tight around his fingers while you look at the top of his head. “So do you want me just to moan spidey all night since I don’t know your real name?” you taunt him as you try to move your hips. He pushes his thumb hard against your clit before he drags his tongue across your neck. “Haaah-! m-mfffh-” you gasp as his mouth leaves your throat before he lifts his head to look at you. He licks his own bottom lip while he thinks about whether he should tell you or keep quiet. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers inside your cunt while he stares at your face through the mask. You look up at his covered face where only his mouth shows below the red fabric. “Don’t you want to hear me moan your actual name?” you ask him before you squeeze your cunt around his fingers again.
You can’t push your hips forward to get his hand deeper because the web holds you in place. He sighs through his nose while his jaw moves under the mask. “Peter- you can call me Peter,” he mutters while he curls his fingers inside you. There are thousands of guys named Peter in New York, so you wouldn’t know who he really is anyway. He knows that if he ever takes the mask off to show you his face, then he will just have to keep you by his side so you never tell anyone. You hum when you hear his name while he keeps moving his fingers between your thighs. Your clit starts to throb against his thumb, so you close your eyes and let your mouth fall open. “Mmn- ahhnn-” you breathe out while your head tilts back against the air. He lifts his left hand away from your side and brings it up to your chest. His palm cups your exposed breast while his fingers roll your nipple between them.
He squeezes your breast while his other hand works inside your wetness. “You really know what you’re doing with those hands, Peter,” you tell him while you open your eyes to look down at his mask. He scoffs under his breath because he knows you’re just trying to talk him into fucking you now. Hearing his name from your mouth sends a rush straight down to his cock, so his arachnid side reacts before he can stop it. An embarrassing but small amount of web shoots out from his wrists. “Looks like someone else can’t hold back anymore,” you tease him while you laugh at the white string on his wrist. He pinches your nipple hard before he drops his hand away from your chest. “Ah-! sh-shit-” you gasp while he reaches his hand down to the front of his boxers. He grabs his cock right through the fabric while he stares up at your mouth. “See? I told you that you were just as desperate as me,” you laugh while more slick coats his fingers inside your cunt.
He sighs through his nose before he slips his hand under the waistband of his boxers. He strokes his cock inside his shorts while he watches you try to close your legs. “Stop playing around and take those off,” you complain while you watch his hand move under the fabric. You try to wiggle your hips forward to reach him, but the web keeps you in place. “You want it so bad? Come over here and get it,” he teases you while he keeps his fingers working inside your wetness. You glare up at his masked face because your arms are stretched above your head. “Oh, that’s right... You can’t move because you’re tied up,” he mocks you while he curls his fingers inside your cunt. He watches you try to pull your knees together against the web. “Nngh-! p-please-” you whine out while your hips try to push against his hand. He never stops pumping his fingers between your thighs while his other hand strokes his hard cock inside his shorts.
You shake your head at him because he won’t do anything besides finger you. It frustrates you that you can’t even wiggle your knees away from his touch. “Poor baby... Are you getting impatient?” he laughs while he looks at your pout. He pushes his fingers deeper between your wet folds while he watches your mouth open. “I hate you so much,” you mutter while your cunt squeezes around his fingers. He smiles below his rolled-up mask before he slows down his hand between your legs. “Mhm, you’ve been good enough for me tonight,” he tells you before he pulls his hand out of your cunt. He lifts his wet hand up to his mouth to lick your slick off his fingers. He watches your cunt clench around emptiness while he uses both hands to push his boxers down his hips. He kicks the shorts off his feet away from him across the bedroom floor. You watch him stand naked in front of you with only the red mask covering the top of his head. “Never fucked someone like this before, Peter?” you taunt him while you look down at his cock.
You arch your back against the web while he steps closer to your spread thighs. “Never had someone tied up like a toy without their legs around you?” you ask him while your knees pull against the web. His exposed lips curve into a smirk because he knows you always have to be a smart-ass. He steps closer to your spread legs before he slips his right hand through the web to hold your leg. He uses his free left hand to guide his hard cock right between your thighs. He rubs the head of his cock up and down against your wet folds without pushing inside you yet. “Hah- wait- P-Peter-” you gasp out while he slides his length over your clit. He looks down at your face while you try to push your hips forward against the web. “Shh- quiet down for me,” he whispers before he starts to push his cock slowly between your lips. His left hand guides him inside until his length is deep enough to fill your cunt before he drops his hand and stops pushing forward.
He brings his hand up to your face while you tilt your head to rub your cheek against his palm. “Mmf-” you whine while you lean into his hand. He watches you through the white lenses of his mask while you close your eyes to bite your bottom lip. He looks at the way your face reacts to him opening you up, and he likes seeing you tied up for him. He pushes his hips forward again to slide the rest of his cock inside you. You breathe through your open mouth once he pushes all the way inside your cunt. You open your eyes to look at his covered face because you want to see what he looks like right now. Your eyebrows knit together while tears start to gather in the corners of your eyes. “Oh god- haaah-” you moan while you feel him push your cunt wide open. He squeezes your thigh before he leans forward to rest his forehead against your neck. He starts thrusting his hips back and forth while the web holds your body up.
“You take me so well,” he grunts against your throat while he picks up his pace. He brings his hips back so only the tip of his cock is inside you before he slams himself forward to bury himself deep again. You try to move your knees, but the web forces your legs wide open. “P-peter… please, let me see you-” you beg him while he thrusts fast and hard inside your cunt. He ignores what you asked before his teeth bite down onto the side of your neck. “I told you no- jesus-” he mutters against your throat while his hand squeezes your thigh tighter. He moves his other hand from your cheek to the back of your head so he can tangle his fingers in your hair. He forces your head back while he keeps pumping his cock in and out of your cunt. You cry out against his shoulder while his hips slap against your thighs with every thrust. His lips trail up from your throat to your jaw before he presses his mouth against yours. You close your eyes while he kisses you hard enough to force your teeth apart with his tongue.
He bites down on your bottom lip before he sucks it into his mouth and lets it go to spit right onto your lips. “Mmmph- you’re so-” you moan after he does that, and his tongue licks your lips. He pulls his face back to look at you before his right hand reaches down to snap the web around your right thigh. He pulls your freed leg up against his side so your knee rests beside his hip. The new position lets him push his cock deeper inside your cunt while he holds you close against his body. He watches your face through his white lenses while he keeps moving his hips forward. His left hand rests tangled in your hair behind your head to keep you in place. Your cunt clenches tight around his cock, and his fingers pull back on your hair hard enough to make your scalp burn. His shaft throbs inside your wetness while he watches your mouth fall open. “Do you want your other leg wrapped around me too?” he asks you while his hips slam into your thighs.
You nod at him while you try to move your left knee against the web. He keeps holding your right thigh with his right hand while he raises his left wrist to shoot two fresh bands of web over your arms. It gives your arms more support in the air before his left hand snaps the web around your left calf. He guides your left leg over his waist so both of your thighs wrap around his hips. He grabs both of your hips with his hands while you float in the middle of the room. “You know how good you look right now?” he asks you before he thrusts deeper inside your cunt. His fingers dig so hard into your hip that it hurts your flesh like he wants to devour you. “Nngh-! o-ow- Peter that hurts-” you complain while your hips rock against his cock. He looks down at your face while he slows down for a second. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he tells you while his thumbs push harder into your waist. He leans in closer to your ear to bite it, but it’s just an excuse to be closer to you.
“You’re going to take it like a good girl,” he whispers before he lifts your legs off his waist and puts your ankles up onto his shoulders. He looks down between your bodies to watch his cock slide in and out of your wet cunt. His enhanced hearing picks up every single noise in the bedroom while he speeds up his thrusts. He listens to the wet squelching of your cunt and the loud slap of his hips against your thighs. Your ragged breaths are loud in his ears while he pushes his cock all the way to his pelvis. He holds your ankles on his shoulders while his hips work faster inside your wetness. His fingers caress up and down your calves while he thrusts deep inside you. You get closer to the edge every time he pushes all the way in. You don’t tell him you’re about to cum, but he feels the way you pulse around him. The wetness drips down his shaft while you squeeze him tight. You need to hold onto him while the pleasure builds, so you tug hard against the web around your arms.
“I need you- p-please let me hold you,” you whine while your toes curl against his shoulders. He turns his head to the side to bite down hard onto your calf. He pulls his cock back until only the tip is left inside you before he slams all the way deep again. He fucks you so hard that the web around your body starts to break. The broken pieces weigh you down, but the rest of the web holds you up in the air. He moves his hands away from your legs to tear right through the bands around your waist. His arms wrap tight around your body while he brings you against his chest. “I need you right here with me,” he grunts before he buries his face into your neck. He thrusts deep enough to reach that spot inside your cunt, and it makes you cum instantly. “Nngh-! o-oh god-” you moan while your wetness coats his cock. He feels you cumming around him and his arachnid instincts take over his head. His enhanced strength makes it effortless for him to walk forward and break right through the remaining webs to carry you.
You wrap your arms around his neck before he walks both of you toward the bed without ever pulling his cock out of you. He gets onto the bed so he can lay you down on the mattress and hover over you. Shredded web clings to your arms and your thighs. “You came around me so fast,” he mutters while he looks down at your face. You nod at him before he slowly starts to thrust inside your cunt again. Your hands leave his shoulders to grab the bottom edge of his mask. You push the fabric all the way up over his head to see his face finally. It scares you because his eyes are pitch black instead of human. You open your mouth to react, but he grabs both of your wrists with his hands. He pins your arms down hard onto the mattress beside your head. “Come on- you wanted to see me so bad,” he smirks while he stares down at you. You try to pull your hands out from under his palms, but he keeps smirking at you.
“You’re not even human- you’re a d-demon,” you gasp while you stare up into his black eyes. He ignores what you called him before he thrusts his cock deep into your cunt. “Ahhhnn- f-fuck-” you moan out loud even though you just tried to insult him. He watches your mouth fall open while he keeps his body pressed over you. “Shh- it’s just me,” he mocks you with fake sympathy while he holds your arms down on the bed. He raises his wrists to shoot web right over your forearms to bind them to the bed so your arms are spread wide open again. “You have such playful hands,” he tells you before he lets go of your wrists. He gets up onto his knees between your spread legs before his left hand grabs your waist and his right hand reaches up to grope your breast. “Are you scared of me now?” he asks you while his fingers squeeze your nipple. You shake your head quickly on the pillow, but he smirks down at you from his knees. “You really should be,” he tells you while his right hand squeezes your breast. He pushes his cock deep into your cunt, and his fingers play with your nipple.
His left hand slides down your side to reach between your legs. You try to twist your bound wrists against the mattress before his right hand leaves your chest. He raises his right wrist to shoot an extra layer of web right over your hands. “Stop fighting me, or I’ll shut your mouth for you,” he warns you while his left hand finds your wet clit. He pinches your clit hard enough to make you whine. “Ah-! nn- please-” you beg him while you shake your head on the pillow. You don’t want to piss him off because he keeps staring at you with those black eyes. You spread your thighs wider for him in response, and he takes a deep breath. “That’s a good girl,” he tells you while a smirk forms on his face. He slams his hips forward with more force, and his left thumb rubs back and forth over your clit. He doesn’t care that you just had an orgasm minutes ago because he keeps rubbing exactly where you are most sensitive.
“Mmf- hahh- it’s too much-” you cry out while your cunt clenches around his cock. His right hand goes right back up to your chest to grab your other breast. He squeezes the soft flesh while his hips slap against your thighs. “You look so fucking perfect like this,” he grunts while his thumb flicks over your tight nipple. You want to touch his body badly, but the webs keep your hands pinned to the bed. “Nngh- let me hold you- p-please, Peter,” you beg him while you twist against the web. He looks down at your wrists, and he keeps thrusting into your wetness. “If you want to touch me, then just break free,” he challenges you while he keeps his hands on your body. You stop struggling because you know exactly what he will do if you manage to escape. “Nn- you’d just tie me down again,” you complain while your hips rock up to meet his thrusts. He chuckles above you before he leans all the way down over your body.
He pushes his mouth right against yours for a quick kiss, and he trails his lips down your neck. He moves over to the breast that he neglected earlier to drag his tongue right across the tip. “Oh god- haaah-” you moan out loud while his wet tongue licks your nipple. He moves his face back a few inches to look at you again. “You can try to break free all you want because I don’t bite,” he whispers before he drops his head back down. He wraps his mouth all the way around your nipple, and he bites down hard on the sensitive peak. “F-fuck- ahhhnn-!” you scream out while your back arches off the mattress. The bite makes your cunt squeeze tight around his cock. You thrust your hips up against him while he sucks on your breast. He grunts out loud before he shoves his hips forward to push you deeper into the mattress. He thrusts his cock as deep as he can go while he keeps his teeth pressed into your nipple. His mouth works over your bud while his left hand rubs your wet clit.
His right hand squeezes your other breast before his cock slams deep into your cunt. Having all his attention on your sensitive body pushes you over the edge again. You tear your wrists right through the webs to free your hands from the mattress. You throw your arms around his shoulders so you can tangle your fingers into his hair. You drag your nails down his back while your hips thrust up to welcome every deep pound inside your cunt. “Fuck- yes- mmn- right there,” you moan out loud while you arch your back off the bed. He sucks hard on your breast to take whatever he can get from you. He slams his hips forward faster to match your needy movements. The thought of breeding you takes over his head. He wants to pump all of his cum as deep as he can reach inside your cunt. He feels his balls tighten because he gets closer to cumming with every hit. “I’m going to fill you up so much,” he grunts against your chest before he bites your nipple one more time.
He lifts his mouth from your breast to leave wet kisses up your neck until he reaches your shoulder. He sinks his teeth right into the curve of your shoulder before he pulls away to look at your face. He watches your eyes roll back while his left hand pinches your clit and his right hand pinches your nipple. He rubs his thumb faster over your wetness while he shoves his cock all the way to the base. “You feel so fucking good around me, don’t you?” he praises you before he leans all the way down. He pushes his mouth against yours to force his tongue past your lips. You open your mouth for him so he can taste you while his hips slap against your thighs. “Mmmph- ahhh-” you whine right against his mouth while you kiss him back. The urge to cum gets too close for him to think straight. He doesn’t even notice that his fingers slow down on your clit or how his thrusts become sloppy.
He can feel his cock throb deep inside your wetness. He knows he won’t last another minute before he cums inside you. He bites down hard on your bottom lip until he tastes blood on his tongue. He keeps his teeth there the exact moment his cum starts shooting deep inside your cunt. “Mmf- f-fuck-” he groans against your lips while he empties himself inside you. He leans his forehead against yours while his hips keep moving. He feels how close you are to another orgasm, so he slows his movements down to be gentler. You push his face away to tug on his hair until he opens his eyes. You look up at his face to see that his eyes are normal again. He realizes he is finally back to normal. He moves his hand away from your clit to rest his palm on the mattress beside your neck. He continues to roll his hips between your legs before he leans his forehead against yours again. “I- I’m sorry,” he whispers over your mouth.
You close your eyes to caress his back while you listen to his heavy breaths. “Why are you sorry?” you ask him while your hips move with his thrusts. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he answers you. “I was too rough earlier, and I wasn’t myself,” he mumbles right against your lips. Hearing that makes you bite your bottom lip before you grind your hips up against his cock. You breathe hard against his mouth to share his air before you lean up to kiss him. “I can handle you just fine,” you tell him between soft pants. He moves his face away from yours after he hears that. He wonders if someone can actually take that side of him without getting hurt. His left hand squeezes your chest gently while his cock pushes deeper inside your cunt. He closes his eyes as he feels the wetness coating his shaft. He wants to give you a second orgasm, so his hand balls up into a fist to twist the bedsheets beside your head.
He takes his time to slide all the way out before he pushes back in. “Haaah- oh god- yes,” you whine out loud while your cunt squeezes his cock. You cum hard around him, and he throbs inside you the exact second he feels it. He drops all his weight onto your chest to hide his face in your neck. “That was my first time letting that part of me out,” he whispers against your collarbone. You trace your nails over his shoulders to comfort him. “Let’s hope it was worth it,” you tease him while you wrap your arms around his back. He shivers against you, and his cock twitches deep inside you. He drags his teeth over your collarbone before a ragged exhale leaves his mouth. His body melts completely against your chest, and he refuses to pull out. You let your fingers wander down his sweaty spine while he nuzzles your neck. “More than worth it,” he mumbles back.
pairing: peter parker x gf!reader
summary: you're determined to leave love bites all over peter's neck, but unfortunately for you, his accelerated healing has other plans. peter has a couple of suggestions to lift your spirits.
cw: attempts at giving hickeys, dry humping, kissing, allusions to sex, reader is kind of possessive but peter loves it
wc: 1k+
Peter sharply inhales, hands tightening on your hips as your teeth softly graze the soft skin of his neck. In the back of the room, Evie calls out “Senses are overriding”, but you couldn’t care less, gripping your boyfriend’s face in one hand and moving it away from you so more space on his neck becomes exposed to you. A pathetic noise leaves Peter’s mouth at the way you handle him, lips reconnecting with his neck to sharply begin sucking again.
A slick layer of sweat coats Peter’s skin for a few reasons. One, you’ve been kissing him for a while now, and not long ago you got the brilliant idea to start leaving love bites on his skin. Two, your hips began moving against his own from where you’ve perched yourself above him a little while ago, and he’s been putting a large effort into not rolling his growing erection into your core. And lastly, you’re growing frustrated, which frankly makes him a little nervous.
You pull back from Peter’s neck with a loud pop, wiping your saliva off his skin with your unoccupied hand, and the second you huff again, Peter swallows thickly. The hickeys you’ve been trying to decorate him with just aren’t settling. In the minutes they take to appear, they already begin healing, leaving his skin unmarked.
“It’s not fair.” You mumble, and Peter truly sympathises with you, taking in the soft pout on your lips as you let go of his face. “What does a girl have to do give her boyfriend a couple of hickeys?” Peter gives you a small smile despite himself, eyes fluttering shut when you lean in again to continue your assault on his neck. God, you’re like a vampire, he thinks, groaning quietly as you press your entire body harder against his, chest flat against his. The hand you had on his face now buries itself in his hair, and Peter’s lips part as you grind down onto his lap.
“Heart rate quickly accelerating.” The robotic voice announces again, and Peter feels heat instantly rush to his face as you hum against his skin, taking in Evie’s words. You move your lips closer to Peter’s jaw, right where his pulse point lies, and he whimpers when your lips stretch into a smile against his neck, feeling the heavy thump of his pulse fighting against his veins. You pucker your lips to kiss the spot, and Peter’s hands snake up from your hips to the curve of your waist, where his fingers can dig better into your plush fat.
You pull away from Peter, seemingly unbothered by the fact that none of his hickeys are appearing, too busy admiring the state you’ve left your boyfriend in this time. Peter risks letting go of your waist with one hand, using it to cradle your cheek and pull you into a kiss instead. Your lips are wet with your saliva, and Peter moans against them, relaxing back into his pillows when you press your hands to his chest. Peter tries breaking the kiss, parting his lips to tell you something, but you’re quick to follow his lips, his open mouth letting you glide your tongue against his with practiced ease.
Peter’s hips twitch below you, bucking up into you in a way that makes the both of you let out a pleasured sigh. You break the kiss as Peter had tried doing mere moments ago, but now you ask him “Pete, why won’t you let me leave hickeys on you?”
Your boyfriend’s face softens at your upset expression, and he tilts his head sympathetically, saying “Trust me baby, I want you to be able to mark me up as much as you do.” The words send a throb to your core, and you try squeezing your thighs together, blocked by Peter’s body between them, and he grins softly. “What if I leave a couple on you, mhm?” Peter asks, fingers brushing up against your neck. He doesn’t wait for your response before bringing his lips there, his nose tickling your neck as it brushes against your skin, even as you reject his offer.
“But I want people to know you’re taken.” You open your mouth to add to your sentence, but what comes out instead is a quiet moan as Peter creates suction on your skin, one of your hands gripping his shoulder harshly. “I have a solution for that.” Peter mumbles, separating from your neck and looking up at you. You lean forward a little, pressing your forehead against Peter’s as you hum inquisitively, and your boyfriend mimics the noise with a slight nod of his head. “All it takes is to have you by my side any time I leave the house, and I’m sure everyone in Manhattan will get the hint.”
You press a short kiss to Peter’s lips, and you pull away for him to find you with a smile on your face. “Like that idea?” He questions quietly, and you nod softly, playing with the hair that hangs in front of his face. He pecks your lips shortly before returning his attention to your neck, grazing his teeth against your skin before sucking harshly on the spot for a long moment. You gasp, arching your body into his, and Peter pulls away to observe his work.
Peter glances up to meet your eyes before his gaze is quickly dipping down to your neck, and he grins, adding “And this hickey on your neck may very well be a sign to everyone that we belong to each other.”
“Already!?” You gasp, fingers coming up to graze the love bite Peter has so easily left on you. He nods, bringing an annoyed groan out of you, and you slump on his chest as you mumble in annoyance “That’s so unfair, I wanted to leave my mark on you, but no, of course Mr. Spider-Man’s accelerated healing has to confiscate his girlfriend’s simple pleasures in life.”
Peter laughs loudly, securing an arm around your waist and carefully rolling you over on the bed so he can hover over you. “Okay Mrs. Spider-Man, since you’re so upset about the hickeys, we can see if something else like back scratches last any longer.”
And of course, it’s all worth it to see the way your eyes light up at his suggestion, even though you demand a couple more rounds when nothing appears on his back the first time around.
❤︎ . . . accidentally discovering one day that peter's wrists are (weirdly) sensitive after his enhancement, so you take it into consideration the next time you go down on him and his entire world shatters.
smut. dick sucking. organic web shooter sucking (ok guys don't make fun of the girl who put herself out there). cum licking.
you've got him on his back, sprawled across the bed, and you're kneeling between his thighs. his moans are growing louder. sharp and quick. the muscles in his thighs twitch with every inch your mouth takes him deeper, and his hands are tangled in your hair, pulling gently at the roots. he's close.
"i'm gonna—" he pants, throwing a forearm over his face.
you pull off with a pop, shaking your head. "don't. wanna try something."
peter sits up on his elbows, confusion settling over his face. "w-what? why?"
you don't answer him. take him into your hand instead and start rubbing him firmly from base to tip. he settles back against the bed and watches as you work him, waiting expectantly with his lip pulled between his teeth for whatever you're planning. then, you grab his arm and bring it to your face, twist it until the skin of his wrist makes contact with your lips.
peter's brows pull together, still unsure, and then he's throwing his head back in ecstasy, sputtering a string of 'baby's that echo off the walls. your mouth latches onto the flap of skin where his organic webs spurt from, and you watch him intently as he comes undone beneath you, a mischievous smile forming on your lips.
"that nice?" you ask, pulling away briefly, hand still tugging and squeezing.
then, a second later, breathless and strained, "god, this is so weird," he chokes out, gripping the sheet. "but 's g-good... sososo good. don't stop."
you giggle against him, and the vibration shoots up the length of his arm. your tongue dances across his skin, alternates between flicking and sucking the flap, and you can feel his forearm pulsing. throbbing. shifting under your tongue like it's preparing for release.
when you glance up at peter, he's already looking up at you, leaning back on his elbow. his jaw is slack, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, and his eyes flicker from white to black intermittently. you quicken your pace, sucking his wrist and stroking him in tandem, all while holding his gaze.
briefly, you pull off to encourage his release. "you're so close, baby. let go for me."
a few more licks and tugs later, peter comes violently. he releases all over your hand. wet and thick and warm. his wrist follows next, shoots out webbing in quick succession, and lands all over the room before covering you in one final spurt.
peter falls against the sheets with a huff, too far gone to be embarrassed by the state of the room. you pump him a few more times before you retract your hand, then settle on top of him, straddling his waist.
"how do you feel?" you ask, licking the spend off your hands.
he blinks an eye open, still panting. "used," is all he says.
you laugh, lean in close to his ear. "well, get ready to be 'used' again because i wanna try something else," you say, voice low and teasing, "and... i can already feel you getting harder. you liked that, admit it, pervert."
peter turns his head, rolls his eyes. "no comment."
in sum. after a lab trial gone wrong, peter's human and arachnid sides somehow separate into two bodies. unsurprisingly, they don't agree on much. well—aside from wanting you.
tags. 18+ EXPLICIT NSFW / MDNI, threesome (?), rough sex, top! peter (human) & subby/brat! peter (arachnid), kinda switch! reader, fingering from the back, unprotected doggy, pussyjob, slight praise kink, dacryphilia, mention of pheromones, multiple orgasms, creampie, 95% goon & 5% questionable scientific practices
— i've misheard the lyrics for years and im making it everyone's problem now
When your boyfriend offered himself to be your thesis subject, you couldn't say no.
After all, what kind of researcher (well, Dr. Banner's doctoral RA, to be exact) wouldn't jump at the prospect of studying an enhanced human?
Except...
"You are so fucking done, Daniel," you grit into the phone, trying not to wake the two Peters that are fighting for the space to twine their arms around you. One (very naked) is resting his head against your stomach, the other is nuzzling into your neck. "Of all the undergrads...what a disappointment."
"I'm sorry!" he cries. "I must've given Spider-Man the cloning vial on accident! I didn't check. Please, please, please don't tell Dr. Banner, I need this lab."
"Well, Spider-Man's panicking at eight a.m. on a Sunday, so you better find a way to get me a contact release for Banner, or you can kiss that letter of rec goodbye," you hiss, too irate to bother with his pleading before hanging up.
And alright, you might've been a little mean, but some RAs would smite his ass on the spot the moment he owned up to it. In the grand nuthouse of academia, giving him a second chance to fix Peter is equivalent to a blanket pardon.
Plus, anyone with common sense would know he wouldn't fire that kid anyway—he'd just read the extra report you're going to write and hum about the mishap being good for science.
The Peter burying his head into your stomach groans, rubbing his face against your shirt for good measure before flicking his eyes up. Tar black. You should've known. "Mm, I like it when you're mean."
"Wha' the fu..." The head on your shoulder lifts up. Relief blooms in your chest at the earnest, brown eyes with visible sclera blearily blinking down at you. A languid smile plays on his lips. "Morning, angel."
Then Human-Peter's gaze slides over to his naked, identical, arachnid self wrapping his entire body around your legs. "Okay, what the fuck—"
//
"Does he have to be...here?"
Peter frowns at the ceiling, where the Arachnid is crouching and peering down at you both, black eyes fixed on what you think is Peter's cereal.
At least Arachnid-Peter has some clothes on, even if he's still shirtless and only opted for a pair of Juicy Couture track pants that you're too tired to ask the origin of.
"He's harmless," you say, turning your attention back to your computer. Dr. Banner's digital research reports run across the screen: cloning trial 112, selective mutual suppression of expressed traits, effects lasted 10 hours before cell fusion, little side effects observed.
What the fuck was he trying to study?
"You heard her, I'm harmless," Arachnid-Peter goads. A smirk threatens upon his lips. "And why am I up here? I think I'm the real Peter, y'know. The one deep inside me."
The man across from you throws his hands up, brow furrowed with indignance. "The hell you aren't—"
"—The hell I am—"
"—Both of you are Peter, alright?" You huff and slam your laptop closed with a little more force than necessary. The two of them clamp their mouths shut, which is the first reprieve you've had all morning. "You're just expressing different traits unique to each body, so if Arachnid can shoot webs, Human-Peter can't."
The Arachnid tips his head to the side, black eyes all glassy and unblinking. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't just a little endearing to see that some behaviors still prevail.
A thin smile gradually spreads over his face. "That just proves I'm the real Spider-Man."
You pinch the bridge of your nose. Human-Peter's chair scrapes and stutters against the hardwood floor as he pushes up, jaw ticking.
"If you hit each other, you'll end up with double the bruises when you merge back," you say, not even bothering to gaze upon your headache of a boyfriend.
...Boyfriends? Whatever, they're two halves of the same body, and they will be joined as one sooner or later.
Peter—the human one, because you can differentiate his boyish, earnest tone from the arachnid's more charming, confident one—mumbles curiously, "Wait, would that be like body horror?"
"Don't even go there," you sigh, dragging your hands down your face.
"That's too bad," Arachnid drawls with an audible smirk, "It would've been sick, dude."
And the weekend progresses somewhat normally, if having a pair of clones helping you with chores in your studio while you type up a lab report on the couch can ever be considered normal.
Then again, you live in New York City—aka the number one hotspot for alien invasions and enhanced individuals who can read minds and walk up walls. Nobody is fucking normal here.
"I know he's your Peter," the Arachnid confesses when his human side steps out to grab your things from the laundry room. Carefully, like he doesn't want to scare off some prey cowering in a bush, he moves your laptop away and gently lays his head on your thighs.
Fingers card through his hair, identical to the soft curls you're so familiar with. It's like his spine unlocks at the touch, shoulders visibly dropping as he settles.
Voice muffled by your thigh, he continues: "I was just teasing him. He still lets me out, but I don't get to see you a lot."
The space between your lungs aches. It's one thing when Peter gets vulnerable with you, but it's another when he's raw and honest and out of his body like this. There's a little line you can draw between his human and spider facets, dividing intent from instinct, restraint from reason.
You cup his cheek and tilt his face up. He's glum, dark eyes at half-mast, lower lip jutting out a little in that pout you know so well. Who knew that his sulky side is enhanced by the spider DNA?
"You're my Peter, too." Leaning down, you press your lips to his forehead, scratch your nails behind his ear. He only makes the softest, vibrating sounds from deep in his throat. Against his warm skin, you murmur, "I love you both."
Things get a little hazy from then on. Peter is stealing hungry breaths between open-mouthed kisses, pushing you to lay lengthwise on the cushions, powerful legs caging your hips. Hands wander from shoulders to waist, then back up to your face.
Like he's trying to memorize you for himself. Like he knows he'll be locked away inside the other Peter, and he needs this to tide him through the long stretches of dormancy.
The possessiveness loosens some snarling thing in your chest. Heat crawls up your body, spreading through muscles and arteries, then circling back to coil low in your stomach.
You think he might be purring when he starts blazing a line of kisses down your neck. Chests pressed flush to each other, broad hands keeping you steady so he can suck a mark over your collarbone.
He alternates between licking, pecking, and nipping. As he inhales the scent of your skin, he reaches beneath your shirt, slides his fingers up your back, presses the divots between each vertebrae as if he wants to live there, curled around and around your spine.
"Man, c'mon," he whines, but it's not the one clinging to you like a koala. Human-Peter sets down the basket of clean clothes by the door, pads over, and pulls the Arachnid's head up by his hair. "You couldn't wait until tonight?"
"Don't act like you haven't been thinking about it," Arachnid-Peter grumbles, face twisting in apprehension. Incisors flash, a touch sharper than you remember them being. "Maybe we should say I couldn't wait until tonight?"
They both click their tongues at the same time.
The mutual touché is soon forgotten. Softness yields to confidence, confidence yields to softness. Human-Peter helps you make quick work of your shorts and underwear, while his Arachnid self pads over to the bed and stretches supine across the sheets, all soft and low-lidded.
You climb on top of him, splaying your hands over the smooth skin and rigid muscle of his chest, then trailing down to dip beneath his waistband. Head dipping back, the taut line of his throat vibrates in a low hum.
"Lift your hips, Peter."
Pools of black blink at you. The corners of his eyes soften, and his sharp smile melts into something more pliant, sullen. He obeys, letting you drag the velvety fabric down—over his v-line, the thickness of his thighs.
Knees dip into the mattress. Sit your bare cunt on the bulge growing in his briefs, lay your chest on his. He looses the quietest of moans, twisting his fingers in the hem of your shirt, "Fuck."
"Working hard?" Human-Peter drags his fingertips across your lower back. The touch surprises you, makes your mouth go dry, makes you grind your hips down hard onto cotton. "Or hardly working?"
Your boyfriend scrapes his lips down your nape, across your shoulder. You think he's making some very pointed eye contact with himself (probably communicating something along the lines of behave) before he slips his fingers into the gusset of your panties and strokes through your wetness.
You can't help but to hump your clit against the Peter beneath you, seeking any stimulation, seeking the stretch of his long fingers filling your slick pussy.
"I think she's hardly working," remarks the Arachnid. Miffed, you scoot up and rub yourself over the head of him. Lick a messy stripe up his jugular. He chokes out a moan, cutting off his cocky smile. "Shit, you're mean."
"Wanna work a little harder?"
You falter at the first breach of Peter's fingers. Two of them, more skilled than your own, sliding in with tangible restraint and curling just so.
The loud whine that escapes you would be borderline embarrassing if it weren't for how desperate you are. You know Peter's got some weird mating-pheromonal thing going on with his biology, but you didn't expect it to hit so hard now that you're seeing double.
Burying your face in Arachnid-Peter's neck, you arch your back for a better angle. Slick sounds sync with each rock of his fingers, stretching out your pussy, teasing that sweet spot to make sparks fly up your spine.
He draws out one reaction after another. Trapped between two bodies, time goes viscous and honey-slow. You don't know how long you've been clamping down on his fingers, or riding the stiff tent in his briefs and leaving a pool of shine on the soft cotton.
The Peter beneath you is panting, pawing at the hem of your shirt, rucking it up your back and over your tits so your skin can be flush to his. He holds you close; the softest whimpers grace your temple, and his throat works furiously the more you grind onto him.
"Fuck, fuck," he sighs, fingers digging into your hips, "so wet—'s too much, I can't, baby—"
He's throbbing, warmth blooming beneath your soaked folds. Hips jerking up, head turning to muffle a strangled, wet moan into the pillow. Peter babbles, hiccups around your name like some bastardized prayer as his other self plunges his fingers into you.
You cum like that, but it's gentle and leaves you with a tepid kind of afterglow. It's not the overstimulated burn you still crave. Not the prize to satiate the need gnawing at you.
"Please, please, wanna feel," you moan.
Bunching the collar of your shirt, guiding your tense arms out of the short sleeves, wrestling it over your head. He pulls you back down, the jackrabbit rhythm of his heartbeat naked to you as he grabs two handfuls of your ass and grinds you into the cum soaking his briefs.
"Mm, can smell how wet you are."
And as above, so below. Human-Peter leans close and licks a pearl of sweat dripping down the line of your back. His free hand wanders, finds a path between his other body and yours to roll his callused fingers over a nipple.
You push your hips back with another soft moan. It's not enough. Your stomach is in knots but you just keep getting worked up with no end in sight. You don't think this will be enough, not when he's still hard beneath you, not when you haven't been filled in the way you need.
"Use your words, angel." You can't tell which Peter is saying it. You only know hot breath on your cheek, thick fingers in your cunt, the dampness between your legs.
"Need you," is the whiny hiccup. You're weak for it. "Fuck, Peter—want you, need it so bad."
"What is it?" For a boyfriend who pouts when you're too busy working on a report to scratch his head, he surely has the patience of a saint in bed.
Frustration bubbles beneath your skin as your concentration breaks, orgasm flitting away. "Please," you sob, nails making indents into Arachnid-Peter's biceps, "please, just want you inside, wanna feel you for days—"
Your world, narrowed down to the breathless space between two unyielding bodies, jolts. Arachnid-Peter is shucking his soaked briefs off, blushing down to his fucking chest and muttering, need to feel you, so wet, so soft.
He reaches down and spreads your pussy, so your clit can glide up and down the thick vein running along the underside of his cock. He grips you at the nape, holding your wet, open maw over his to share breaths.
Human-Peter groans at the sight, and the mattress shifts as he prepares himself. Pretty girl, sweet girl is what you make from the dazed mutters pouring out of his lips, just as the hot, slick tip of him runs through your fluttering seam.
You can't help the raw, needy whine you make. Awareness is smudgy except for the feel of sweat and skin and throbbing and the pleasant burn of him stretching you open.
He bottoms out with the softest of grunts in his chest. Still, it echoes and fills your studio. Bounces around your chest for that visceral, snarling thing in you to bat at. You want to keep it. You want to keep him.
Peter must know that you're at the end of your line. "Behave."
You don't wait for him to move. Your baser instincts take over.
Mindlessly, you rut against the length of Arachnid-Peter, twitching clit tracing the pulsing vein and causing your slick walls to drag over Human-Peter's cock.
There's a pitched gasp caught halfway in his throat before his hands fly to your hips and slams into you so hard that you skid up the bed. A whine burns through you at how rough he is, at how it scratches this possessive, feral part of your system.
He fucks you like this: ass arched into the air, skin raw from the harshness of his thrusts, clit jumping with every ragged pulse running through his Arachnid self's cock.
The head of it drags in the tight space between your naked stomachs, where skin is sticky with the remnants of his orgasm. The Arachnid's arms wrap tight around you, unwilling to compromise, unwilling to breathe unless his ribs can feel yours. He's done with restraint, letting out streams of helpless little sounds with each jerk of your hips.
Finally, your gut draws tight. There's a low, helpless keen building between your lungs as you're bullied toward the precipice.
You think you might be saying things, like please, and so close, and god, fuck Peter, don't stop baby (to both, or neither in particular)—
You have one last burst of alertness, and you use it trying to find Arachnid-Peter's mouth and drown your sounds in him. Instead, you find his dark eyes fluttering, brow pinched in that fucked-out expression you know so well.
And then you note the rhythm of his heaving sternum: short inhale, then a long exhale tinged with whiny, sensitive sounds. The tide swells in your nerves, and Human-Peter curses behind you.
It isn't even the pleasure that does you in, or the closeness, or the raw, humiliatingly lewd squelch of your boyfriend driving into you from behind.
It's the sight of tears gathering on Peter's eyelashes. One has escaped already, dribbling down his cheek with a slight glimmer.
You don't think. You just act, and you cum again as the salt of his tears and skin and sweat blooms on your tongue.
The overstimulation scorches so good. You jolt as four hands grasp at you—two gripping your shoulders, another pair at your hips. Tiding you through it, until you gain some sense of lucidity. Enough to feel the way he's twitching, both in you and at your clit.
They finish, almost in sync.
From behind, Peter stumbles through what sounds like an apology mingled with praises (and angels and sweet girls). Floods you with hot ropes, lazily rocks into your spent cunt.
From below, he pulses between your bodies, leaving your skin slippery with fluid. Tears glitter in his waterline, making the black globes of his eyes even more fascinating. His cries have softened to low hums, and he noses your forehead fondly.
"Pretty," comes a quiet mumble from over your shoulder. Peter kisses your back, the gentleness almost giving you whiplash. "Did so good."
Hoarsely, the Arachnid agrees with himself. "Yeah. My angel."
The tension of the situation leaves you in a sigh. You go boneless, dropping your head onto his chest as Human-Peter pulls out and makes for the sink.
"He always does that," Arachnid whispers, smoothing a palm over the sore muscles in your thighs. Faking scorn, "So responsible."
You muffle your words into his skin, "Least I can still cuddle another you right now."
There's the sound of water rushing into the basin in your kitchenette, then a cascade of droplets from a washcloth being wrung out.
"Babe," Human-Peter calls, padding back toward the bed. You peek out to see him in his boxers, holding your laptop in one hand and a damp cloth in another. "Watch a movie, take the day off?"
Arachnid-Peter groans, carelessly throwing an arm over his eyes. He points his finger at his counterpart. "Totally stole that idea from me. He's gonna suggest Empire Strikes Back for the sixth time."
Indignantly, "I wasn't!"
"Okay, then what were you thinking of?"
Caught, his mouth sits ajar. A beat of silence follows the probe before his shoulders bunch up and he says, "Return of the Jedi..."
"Dude, that's not any better."
"Dude, you're me."
Your phone rings, nearly scaring you out of your skin. Arachnid-Peter flings his arm off his face and shoots a web at your coffee table, slinging the device back to bed.
"It's Daniel," he says, and even though he lacks the whites of his eyes, you know he's rolling them.
Your head perks up. "Wait, wait—"
He picks up, and both of them say, "She's busy," before cutting off the line.
//
"Thanks, Doctor, for signing the release. You've read my preliminary report?"
Beside you, Peter—just one now—snoozes in the mess of sheets, brown waves all mussed from the crazy ten hours he just experienced. You didn't see the fusion happen (you turned away because you didn't want to know if his body horror hypothesis was true), but he claimed that it only made him sleepy.
You suppose it has to do with him spending twice the amount of energy.
"Yes," Banner muses over the line. You hear pages flipping. "It's fascinating. Do you think you could work on a solution that lasts longer?"
You frown, fingers drifting down to brush a stray curl away from your boyfriend's forehead. "Doctor, my dissertation is on genome patterns in Mutates, not human cloning."
"Did the arachnid side of him seem more suppressed after fusion?"
"Are you asking me this because you're experimenting on the Hulk again?"
Silence.
"Doctor—"
"Ooh, sorry, talk to you later. Heard they're restocking yogurt for nutrition."
The dial tone blares through your speakers. You huff, tossing the phone onto your pillow and sliding down the mattress, taking your place in the cusp of Peter's body.
He hums when you press close, slings an arm around you. Cracks an eye open, and even though it's low-lidded, you can see that just half of his eye is blooming with that familiar sleek black.
"I dunno," he teases, lips threatening to grin, "maybe you should tell him it's not a great idea."
—
junie's thoughts: lowkey next time they have sex, arachnid takes over and peter's in the mental cuck chair nodding like wait....exactlyyyy....
edit: omfg i forgot but this is dedicated to daisy of @sinsilk for being the one to make me write this ILY MOOTIE
🕸 thank u for reading!! reblogs and feedback are always appreciated <33 🕸
𝓟eter 𝓟arker × f!reader :: 0.35k wc. mdni. subbytop!peter. unprotected p in v + creampie. pathetic!peter. missionary. breeding kink if u squint.
Physically, he's got aaallll the control.
He's got your legs hiked up, knees bent over his shoulders, with your body nearly folded in half beneath him. Your pussy is swollen, fucked open, and achy around his thick cock, walls so gooey and slick and pliant, competely helpless to do much else than take the brutal, deep thrusts he abuses them with.
Effectively, he fucks you completely senseless, with precise snaps of his hips that have your eyes rolling back into your skull.
But verbally? Fuck, you'd think you were the one fucking him dumb.
He whines, groans, moans, and whimpers. Desperate little pleas falling from his throat while he uses your cunt to milk himself.
"Ooooh, fuck, yesyes—fuck baby, just like that. Don't stop, please don't stop! S'fuckin' perfect, fuck me s'good—!" between wet, loud plaps! and creaking wood with a voice that's broken and fucked out.
And when he's about to cum? Oh, he begs for it. Despite having the upper hand, despite being in control of the pace, he begs you to let him cum—"F-fuck, please, m'gonna cum. Please lemme cum—i-inside, can I—fu-huuuck—please make me cum, please—!"
And he actually waits; he waits until you give him permission, pace never faltering, still fucking you so fast and hard that it rattles your brain, toned abdomen slamming into your puffy clit every time he bottoms out.
And you're so close yourself that all you can do is nod and chant, "yes, yes, fuck, yes." while your cunt slurps and flutters around him, sweet moans crescendoing as he fucks you even harder, in fast, short thrusts that quickly bring you—and himself—to orgasm.
"O-ohmygod, baby—'m coming—fuck, please, stay still, please baby—need you to take it, please—" his words cut off into moans that morph into near sobs as he starts to release, cock spurting thick, sticky ropes of cum against your walls.
Thiiiick cum that squelches lewdly from your convulsing pussy as he sloppily fucks himself through the waves, eyes watering from the way he throws himself into near overstimulation just to ensure that he squeezes out every last drop into your warm womb ♡.
summary — ever since peter’s arachnid DNA started to change, he’s been obsessed with you. it hasn’t been easy for him considering you live right across the hall from him. he’s even having wet dreams about you. he knows you way more than you know him. not that he’d tell you that, anyway.
pairing — bnd!peter parker x fem!reader
warnings — MDNI, smut, piv, fingering, oral (both receiving), whiny & subby top!peter, unprotected sex, finishing inside, multiple orgasms, pet names, wet dreams, stalking, mask on (and off), mentions of violence, smoking, slight spoilers. i think that's it?
wc — 9.8k...
a/n — apologies if there are any errors. inspiration from strawberry moon by tori amos <3 v obsessed, highly recommend.
masterlist. | 18+ MDNI
“Thank you.. oh f-fuck thank you,” Peter whines, his pitiful voice barely coherent as he watches you take him in his mouth, head bobbing rhythmically as he lays before you on his plushy bed.
Peter’s hands seek your head, wanting to pull it closer to him, but he ultimately plants them on the bed, grasping at the sheets as if they’re some sort of lifeline. His knuckles turn white, his eyes rolling involuntarily. He can’t focus, how can he?
It’s not like this is the first time, or that he’s too nervous to make such a move… he’s thankful for anything you give him, and doesn’t want to take it for granted.
“Yes, oh god, thank you s-so m-much..”
Every time you suck him off, Peter can’t believe how fucking good it feels. He wonders how you’re so good, then quickly pushes the thought aside. He doesn’t want to think about the how or why.
Peter’s moans are fucking pitiful. Such a whiny boy with shaky thighs and rosy cheeks, the heat of it all rushing to tint his skin. You can taste the pre leaking from him, his cock pulsing against your tongue. The smirk that spreads across your lips as you lick the tip and hold eye contact with him makes Peter huff. His cheeks darken even more, his body heating rapidly at the sight of you as you take him fully again.
“Oh, please… I’m, fuck,” Peter’s pathetic attempt to warn you dies out, his hands gripping the sheets even harder, seemingly seconds away from ripping them. Another reason why he’s careful with touching you. Sometimes, he just can’t help himself. Pathetic.
When you slow down your pace just to tease him, you hear his squeaky whine, the breath being knocked from his lungs. Just as you expected. Peter gets so fucking needy, and you relish in it. It doesn’t take him very long to get close, ever, and a part of you can’t stand it because you want this too. You want to make it last just to see and hear how pitiful he gets.
“No- shit, please,” Peter whimpers, emphasizing his plea to gain some sort of sympathy from you. You oblige, gradually fastening your pace, the filthy, sloppy sounds echoing between you. He can’t help it. His hand flies to your hair, fingers lacing through the soft strands before he tugs. “I-I’m-“
Unable to properly speak, his jaw slacks and his eyelids squeeze shut. Thighs trembling, he chokes out a cry, feeling his cock pulse with each string of cum that stuffs down your throat. Then, it’s over. Just like last time.
Peter shoots up into a sitting position, gulping thickly with a huff as reality sets in. His duvet covers are thick, splayed across his lower half, which is feeling exceptionally more warm than usual. The room is dark, cold, and very much empty. He feels it instantly, the way his briefs cling to his skin, wet and warm.
“Fuck… not again,” he whimpers, peeling his briefs down just enough to expose the globs of thick cum sticking to his skin. Now this wasn’t the first time. It’s almost nightly at this point. He glances over at his door, as if you would somehow know what happened or be there. You never were. He then turns his head toward the alarm clock on his nightstand, 3:14am. “Hey evie?”
Peter’s desktop illuminates with light as numerous monitors flash on, the system starting up.
“Yes, Peter?” evie’s artificial voice responds.
“We need to make a different kinda inhibitor,” he groans, pushing the covers off his legs before getting up, making his way toward the bathroom.
Peter didn’t go back to sleep. He spent hours trying to formulate an inhibitor that would target his arachnid DNA and block hormone levels… particularly his testosterone. With a cheap Newport cigarette lit between his lips, his fingertips pattered across his keyboard, his eyes laser-focused on the screen.
With a soft chime, his phone illuminated on the desk just beside the keyboard. He quickly glanced over, scanning the words across the screen before looking at the map beneath the text, the pinned location insinuating that you’ve arrived to work.
Peter knows it’s wrong. Having secret hidden cameras around the city is one thing, but using them to watch someone that’s not a threat is another.
He tried, really fucking tried, to let it go. To stop. But he can’t.
That’s just another reason why he needs to make an inhibitor that actually fucking works.
Ever since you moved into the apartment across the hall four months ago, he hasn't been able to get you out off his mind no matter how hard he's tried. He’d often think about the first time you met, running into each other in the hall as you rush to work and he heads to get flowers for May.
All of the innocent conversations in passing, the friendly smiles and waves… He tried so fucking hard. You’re just so pretty. So sweet. God, you smell so sweet.
He can smell you from your apartment across the hall, the scent similar to fresh-picked strawberries. He fucking loves strawberries.
That wasn’t what started it, though. After the incident two months ago, with you stuck in the middle of a bank robbery, it was as if a flip had switched and caused a surgical spell. You were sweet and innocent, just trying to deposit a measly check, and next thing you knew, you had a gun pointed at you. Since then, he feels like he has an obligation to protect you — to keep you safe. Knowing you only strengthened that feeling, but your voice… your face… the way you smell. It all adds to it.
He wants to get closer to you, so fucking badly, but he just can’t with how hectic his life is. He tells himself it’s safer for you to stay acquaintances, no matter how much it bothers him.
Ever since that incident, ever since he saw your terrified expression through the lens of his mask, he had your face in his records. He specifically had evie program a separate alert system with facial recognition just for you. So when he gets a legitimate alert, he knows if you’re nearby. That's what he tries to tell himself, anyway.
If only you knew that spider-man had a special system just to keep you safe.
But that's why he needs this to work. It has to. He knows his behavior is wrong. It's weird. Fucking creepy, even...
“Smoke detected,” evie’s voice alerts, prompting a banner message across the monitor screen. Peter’s eyes roll, mentally damning Tony for implementing smoke detection into her programming.
“Just a cigarette, evie. Same as last time, and the time before that,” Peter murmured, his voice muffled from the cigarette trapped between his soft lips.
“Cigarettes can impact your vitals,” evie’s voice responds, to which Peter sighs, pulling the cigarette from his lips and smashing the end into the ashtray beside his phone, the bright amber ash crushing into a pasty grey. He wasn’t a casual smoker. It was usually during late nights or early mornings like this, where he just needed something to ground him. He hated to admit that it calmed him, or at least thought it did. Maybe it was all in his head, but either way, he knew it wasn’t good for him.
While he waits for the inhibitor to finish, Peter thinks of a few ideas on how he could test it. Truly, there’s only one way to really test it. He has to talk to you, really talk to you, without making things awkward. He needs an excuse to see you that wouldn’t lead to a “hi” and “bye” situation. He hates how his heart races every time you smile at him or even pass by him. You have his mind completely scrambled with your fingers wedged in the folds of his brain.
He’s pacing now, crossing back and forth in front of his desk with his eyes planted on the hardwood floor. His hands moved around as he spoke, a somewhat comforting expression he did during deep thought.
“Maybe… I can wait and we bump into each other in the hall? No, that’s stupid. I could just… knock? What would I say?” Peter groans at himself, covering his cheeks with his hands and slowly pulling them toward his temples. “Or I could…”
Peter’s feet come to a halt, his eyes slowly moving to his apartment door, then to his monitor. The pin on the electronic map shows you’re still out in town.
Oh, he has an idea alright.
Not a sane one, at that.
He really needs that fucking inhibitor.
Within minutes, he has his suit on and is swinging around the outside of the apartment building, his webs allowing a clean swing around the brick structure before he lands on your fire escape just outside your bedroom window.
No, this is insane.
With his eyes squinted behind his mask, he looks through your window, immediately spotting it. A beautiful silver chain necklace with a diamond pendant, carefully laid on your nightstand. The same one he sees caressing the skin of your neck every time he sees you. He recalls the way it lies against your chest, the chain slightly pooling against your collarbones. Why’d you leave it today?
No, I shouldn’t do this, he thinks, shaking his head at the reckless idea. But he couldn’t muster any real flaws in the plan. He gets your necklace, then returns it to you as himself. Not as Spider-Man. That’s innocent, right? No, it’s not.
It’s not like he’s stealing it— well, he is. But… he’s giving it back to you. It’s not a total robbery; it’s harmless.
His gloved hands latch onto your window, pushing it up with ease despite the lack of a handle. It’s as if the breath had been knocked out of his lungs, replaced by the intoxicating scent of you.
Fuck it, he thought, slipping through the open window with ease and landing on his feet with precision. His heart was thumping, but not out of nervousness. Excitement.
Glancing around your bedroom, he takes in the sight of your decor, mentally picturing and framing it inside his head against his will. He’d remember regardless.
He slowly stalks toward the nightstand, the finger pads of his gloves gently catching on the chain just before he tightens his fingers around it, holding it up at eye level. Yes, it’s the exact same one you wear all the time. Not particularly expensive looking, as far as he could tell. Not that it mattered much.
Peter felt another thump in his chest, you’ll notice it’s gone. That should’ve been enough for him to put it down. But he’s giving it back to you. Shit, what is he gonna say? That he found it in the lobby? That’s ridiculous.
Peter groans, clenching the thin chain in his fist, pressing it against his mask-covered forehead.
“This is fucking stupid,” he whispers, cursing his own thoughts. No, it’s going to work. It has to. He wants you to understand that you can trust him. He’s more than just your neighbor. He’s your secret protector, but he wouldn’t directly call himself that. He has good intentions, but that doesn’t make his actions any less wrong. He knows it too: “…and creepy.”
The skin on the nape of his neck prickles. He should put it back. This is wrong. This isn’t who he is.
Peter’s thoughts are suddenly interrupted as his head snaps up, his senses spiking. As soon as he hears the familiar jingle of your keys, his throat tightens.
Fuck.
He quickly tucks your necklace into his suit, where his phone would usually sit. Of course he forgot to grab it. Too fucking concerned about getting into your apartment, he was completely unprepared. No wonder he had no idea you were on your way back.
Peter slowly stalked back toward your window, his footsteps completely silent. As soon as his hand grasps the frame of your window, he hears a startled gasp that was awfully similar to a yelp. He whips around, seeing you in the doorway of your bedroom, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Peter’s lenses widened on his mask, emphasizing his own surprise.
For several seconds, the two of you just stared at each other.
“Oh my god.”
Think. Quick!
“Hi,” Peter greets you with a slight change in his voice, lifting a hand and giving you a small wave. He's pathetic, really.
“Spiderman?” you breathe, unsure whether you should take a step forward or a step back. The spider-man is standing in your room. You’ve seen him in person once before, your mind flashing to the incident at the bank. The way he focused on you, but never spoke to you. How could you forget?
Your expression shifts, your wide eyes narrowing slightly, eyebrows leveling and furrowing closer. Why the hell is Spider-Man in here?
“What… are you doing here?”
“Oh- aha. Just a, uh, mixup. Wrong apartment… building. Entirely. I’m a little scrambled. Hit my head on the fire escape,” Peter rambles, mustering lies while using his hands to emphasize his words since he lacked showing expression from behind the mask. His pulse is racing; he's sure you can see the way his suit shifts against his chest.
Your eyes are intensely boring into him as you take in the explanation. Strange, but believable.
“Well... are you okay?” you take a step forward, the space between you shrinking, dangerously close. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Peter feels like he’s about to fucking explode. Is he okay? No, not at all. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to see him.
“I.. yeah! I’m fine, I’ll just go—“ he stammers, turning back toward your window.
“Wait-“ you stop him, slightly lifting your hand in his direction to halt him before crossing your arms over your chest. You couldn’t help but wonder. “This might be a stupid question, especially since I'm sure hundreds of people a day, but… do you remember me?”
Peter’s eyes widen again, his mask mirroring his expression. He turns back in your direction, his eyes scanning your face. Of course he does. He knows you way more than you think. It’s not a stupid question, but kind of ridiculous considering what Peter knows about you.
Though, you’re referring to him infiltrating the bank robbery, saving you amongst other innocent civilians. A pang strikes in his chest as he remembers how terrified you were, but it quickly dissipates just being in your presence.
“Uh, well,” he ponders, quickly trying to muster a response that doesn’t sound creepy while also wanting to validate your curiosity. He mirrors you and crosses his arms over his chest, trying his best to shove his panic to the side. “Now that I think about it… yeah, I do.”
“Really?” your eyes light up, and you take a step closer, your arms falling to your sides now that you feel less strange for asking. “I just- I never got to thank you.”
“Oh, no need. You don’t have to-“
“I know,” you shrug, your lips spreading into a slight smile as you step even closer, your eyes shifting from his face to his chest, then his biceps— fuck, he’s built. “but, thank you. Really. I feel a lot safer here, living here alone and all.”
Truth is, you don’t have any family here in New York. Peter didn’t know that, though. You weren’t sure what compelled you to tell him, either. Regardless, he's Spider-Man — not a threat.
Peter’s breath hitches in his throat. This is exactly what he’s been craving; your undivided attention. He made an impact, and you made it a point to mention it. He quickly shakes it off, taking in your words.
You’re not alone here. You’re so blissfully unaware that he is the same man living across the hall from you. He tries not to think about the way he feels himself twitching against his briefs within the suit the closer you step toward him. He physically can’t help it, and it doesn’t matter how tender the conversation is. He can practically feel the warmth radiating from your body despite being just a few feet away.
He needs to leave. Now.
If he doesn’t, if he allows himself to sink into your spell any further, he’s afraid he won’t be able to help himself. He can’t avoid the filthy visuals raiding his mind, disarming him of critical consideration. Your fingers had somehow sunk even deeper in the crevices of his brain. Leave.
“O-of course! Yeah, no worries at all,” he waves you off, his voice matching his relaxed, confident persona. He climbs through the window, stepping onto the fire escape with ease. “Someone’s gotta do it.”
“Whoa, hey! You can’t just break into someone’s apartment and then leave like it's normal,” you softly scoff, arms raised at your sides to express your disagreement.
“Technically, I didn’t break anything. Just came through the window, which was unlocked,” he quips with a matter-of-fact tone, the space enabling him to finally breathe and collect his thoughts.
“How is that any better?”
Well, it’s not.
Avoid the question.
With his hands still planted firmly on the windowsill, he tilts his head at you, “Lock your window.”
Mirroring him, you tilt your head as well, raising a brow at the order, “Why, so no one else can stumble in here after getting concussed?”
“Because there are people out there who aren’t as nice as me. Now lock it, and keep it that way unless you’re home, yeah?”
It’s somewhat of a cocky response, but it’s true. He lets you sit with that for a moment, the two of you just sharing a few seconds of silence before he shoots a web to the top of the building, making a quick getaway.
You stand there astonished, still trying to comprehend the fact that you came home to find Spider-Man in your room. You wish he stayed at least a little bit longer. There was something about him that felt comforting and familiar, but you couldn’t quite figure out why. You have to admit, you feel a sense of pride at the fact that he remembers you.
If only you knew.
Two nights later, Peter is pacing around his apartment, per usual. The clock on his monitor strikes 9:34pm; he's been contemplating for hours. The more he thought about how he'd return the necklace to you, the more he realized how risky it is.
There was no way he could return it as himself, as Peter, and manage to pull off a lousy lie about how he found it.
All he can think about is how you'd figure it out. He can't risk you putting the pieces together. Fuck, why didn't he think of this beforehand?
Truth is, his behavior has been beyond risky and ridiculous. You quite literally drive him insane to the point where rational decisions are nonexistent. For a split second, he even considers moving away, saving himself the absolute torture of living beside you and not being able to do anything about it.
Deep down, he knows he would never do such a thing... but he can't involve himself personally with you, he just... can't.
He has to return your necklace, but not as Peter. He understands that, but what is he going to say?
Doesn't matter. He can say a lot more with a mask on, knowing you won't figure him out. In fact, he could just tell you he took it and face zero consequences, but what's the fun in that?
As he waits for the inhibitor that’s just nearly finished, Peter lies down on his bed, staring up at the cracked brick ceiling. Maybe a tranquilizer is what he needs. He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until evie’s voice cuts through the haze.
“Inhibitor complete. Trial number forty-seven on standby.”
Finally.
The washer in Peter’s apartment tumbled, numerous articles of clothing swishing and sloshing, covered in suds. His suit was laid flat on top, shaking along with the rumbling of the machine.
“Alright,” Peter sighs to himself, reaching around to settle the inhibitor on the back of his neck. He feels it latch on, letting out a small grunt as his eyes scan the monitor in front of him.
“Arachnid levels decreasing,” evie states as the orange-tinted bar lowers in real time.
“And my hormones?” Peter inquires, raising a brow.
“Decreasing,” evie’s responds, pulling up a second page on the screen to show various hormone levels. Peter lets out a breath of relief, nodding to himself.
“Perfect," he whispered, snatching his suit off the top of the washer.
In your bedroom, you're comfortably sprawled out, sketchbook in hand as you continue marking the thin sheet of paper with a charcoal pencil. A loud knock startles you, causing you to jump and inevitably scratch the pencil across the paper, ruining your work.
Your head whips in the direction of the sound; your window. On the other side of the glass stands Spider-Man, his arms crossed comfortably on the outside of your windowsill as he waits for your response. His suit is glistening, the loud pattering of rain bellowing in his ears.
You quickly close the sketchbook, tossing it aside before standing from the bed.
Peter would usually feel his heart racing the moment you look at him, but he feels calm. Much better. Even though you look so fucking good in your pj shorts.
Hands finding the latch, you unlock the window and push it up, opening it swiftly. The sound of the rain pattering loudly against the fire escape and nearby streets is much clearer now. Before you can even ask why he's here, his voice shuts you down,
“Good girl,” he drawls out in a high teasing tone, voice still quippy and unrecognizable. You blink, your lips parting slightly, but no words come out. What an introduction.
That's the first thing he says? Not that you can complain. You'd be lying if you denied the way it made your stomach twist deliciously.
“W-What?”
“You locked the window.”
You let out a breath, unable to contain your smile and the slight tint in your cheeks. Face flushing, you turn away from the window to make your way back toward your bed, sitting on the edge of it.
“You scared the shit out of me. I can’t keep seeing you like this, you know,” you say, which catches him completely off guard. You can't see it, but a sense of hurt mixed with panic flicks in his eyes before he can control it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean with you, at my window, uninvited,” you explain. Peter’s mouth opens slightly, words dying in his throat. Before he has a chance to panic further, your next words take him by surprise. “Come in.”
“What?”
“I said come in. You can’t be uninvited when I’m telling you I want you here,” you add softly. You took the chance, throwing the ball into his court for him to catch.
Was it bold? Yes. Did he find it hot? Also yes.
Feeling an instant wave of relief, you hear a cute, "Oh," before he chuckles, slipping through your window, his feet landing effortlessly on your bedroom floor as he stands upright. He takes in the environment, your ambient lighting causing the droplets of water on his suit to reflect even brighter.
"Care to tell me why you've blessed me with your presence again? Everything okay?" you ask jokingly, yet still surprised by his sudden return. It's been two days, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about him since then. That’s what he hoped, at least.
"I was just coming to check on you," he lies, standing still so as not to get any of your belongings wet. Besides your floor, of course.
“Why?”
“Because someone broke into your apartment.”
Another lie.
“That was you."
“I meant the building.”
“Still applies.”
“I’m aware,” he quips, the eyes of his mask squinting playfully at you as he tilts his head slightly. You snicker. This back-and-forth game gives him a rush he hasn’t felt in a while. He feels much more confident this time, much more willing to play such a game.
That fucking smirk, he thinks.
“Well, as you can see,” you start, holding your arms up at your sides. “I’m fine.”
Peter tsks, sucking his teeth slightly as he steps toward you, almost as if he's sizing you up. "Well, that's not the only reason I'm here."
You watch as he lifts his hand, loosening the grip of his fingers to release the chain in his fist, dangling it in front of you. Your necklace.
"Oh my god," you softly gasp, reaching for the silver chain and grasping it from his hold. "How did you... Wait, did you take this?"
Now he's panicking.
"W-what? No, no. I found it," he lies again, his tone strong but his legs are feeling a bit weak. Shit.
"...In my room?"
"No," he laughs, trying to muster an explanation before you can dig any deeper. His heart is thundering so fast, he can feel it in his veins, causing him to twitch slightly. "Why would I steal from you?"
Good thing you're gullible enough to believe Spider-Man wouldn't steal from you. Because that's not who he is, right?
"Where was it?"
He rehearsed this, but the way you're looking at him makes it impossible to mutter out a lie. On the ground outside of Delmar’s? No. Fuck it.
"Don't worry about it."
"But how did you know-"
"I've seen you wear it," he admits, unable to control the smile spreading across his lips beneath the mask.
You don't think much of it. He must’ve recognized it from the bank. Opening the clasp, you reach behind you to latch it around the back of your neck, the necklace now resting against your collarbones, the pendant nearly reaching your cleavage. You twist slightly to face away from him, “Can you help me, please?”
He doesn’t answer, immediately grasping the ends from your delicate fingers. His gloved fingers graze the nape of your neck, and he notices the instant goosebumps that litter your skin. He struggles at first, the chain being so small and not having much to work with, but he manages, “anddd... got it.”
You turn back and smile up at him, at his figure standing directly in front of you, head peering down at you.
You felt incredibly inferior, watching him stare with his head tilted in such a way, like you were some sort of prey. If only you could see what's underneath the mask.
"Thanks. I owe you one, again,” you smile, eyes fluttering up at him. His stomach is doing somersaults.
"We talked about this. You don’t owe me anything," he quickly responds, referring to your last conversation. All in all, he’s grateful to return it without consequences. He appreciated the gratitude, but he didn’t expect a damn thing from you. Just the ability to see you.
Pausing, unable to form a proper response, you gaze up at him. Never, ever would you have thought you would be in this position before. Especially with him being so intimately close to you.
You stand, instantly feeling the heat radiating from him. He’s so close. Less than a foot away, chests just barely touching. His posture is steady as he awaits your next move, shocking even himself. If it weren't for his inhibitor, his mind would be going absolutely nuts.
"I know," you finally murmur a response, your eyes searching for his, but all you can see is white mesh. You lift your hand, instinctively trying to reach for him, but you stop yourself. He doesn't move.
You do it anyway. Your hand finds rest at his jaw, your thumb softly rubbing over the ridges of the mask. What is it about him that gets you so?
Is it that he saved you? No...
Maybe the fact that he remembered you and made it a point to make you safe.
It's not like you could stay casual after hearing him praise you like that.
"You... you should probably stop," he warns softly, but doesn't pull away from you. He knows you can feel his chest thundering just a mere inch from you. Despite that, the inhibitor was working, because if it wasn't... you'd definitely not be standing any longer.
"Do you want me to?"
He doesn't answer immediately, his eyes intently focusing on yours through his mask. Is that even a question? It's not like he could just tell you that this is practically torture for him.
"No."
That's just enough for you to raise your other hand, fully grasping his jaw on both sides to get a good look at his mask. Curiosity gets the best of you, your thumb reaching down and gently tugging at the edge of his mask beneath his neck. You just want to feel his skin, feel how warm he is. Feel how real he is.
In a flash, his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping your hand in place.
"Hey, hey. I didn't say you could do that," his tone is playful but his thoughts are a complete contrast, his grip tight on your wrist, but not too tight. Just enough to convey the message. God, he wanted to let you, though. So fucking bad.
It’s too risky. No matter how badly he wants to.
Even if he only shows his lips, he’s sure you’d recognize them after so many small talks. After so many exchanged smiles.
"Then how am I supposed to..." you trail off, the word kiss dying in your throat as your eyes trail down to where his lips would be beneath the mask, then down to where his hand is wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm but soft. He understands immediately.
"You don't."
It killed him to say it.
"I can't kiss you?"
"No."
Your lips curl into a small frown. You understand and respect his boundaries, but you can't deny how much you've thought about this. Rehearsed this. Ever since you caught him in your room, you couldn't help the thoughts that pooled in the moment he left. The fact he'd saved you once before only strengthened that.
What if he just took you, right then and there? God, that's fucked up. You knew that, but... the way you'd feel your core twist and get damp, fuck.
I mean, who doesn't want to fuck him? He's a hero. He's sweet. He's incredibly muscular, and his suit only accentuates that. You could go on and on.
It's not crazy to think about. You're not the only one that thinks this either, confirmed by the many reddit forum threads you dove down after he left. But, you are the only one to have this kind of luxury. The luxury of him being in your room, so close to you, touching you
"You're right, I'm-" you cut yourself off, taking a step back as you rethink your actions. What the hell are you doing? You don't even know him. You're being ridiculous - pathetic, even. You shake your head at yourself, shyly plastering your hand over your face. "I'm so sorry-”
"No, no, don’t be,” he whispers, releasing your wrist from his grasp, shaking his head. If this is his chance, he’d be a goddamn fool to pass it up.
“I can’t kiss you, but..” he continues, his hands moving to find your waist, gently gripping your soft skin through your soft, silky shirt. "I can touch you.”
No, he shouldn’t be doing this. He should’ve left right after giving you the necklace. This wasn’t part of the plan at all.
Tilting your head back up, you peer at him through the gaps of your fingers, your cheeks tinted rosy pink.
“Wha.. what?”
It's a bold move, he knows that. At least it's something he can actually give you.
Slowly, he backs you up, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed, inevitably making you fall back down into a sitting position. He leans down, hands planting on your plushy covers on either side of your thighs. You’re trapped.
“You heard what I said. I can touch you— I want to touch you,” he repeats, his teasing grin beneath the mask widening as he watches your eyes melt. Despite his rather audacious idea, Peter truly didn’t have a dominant bone within him. Not when it came to sex, anyway.
He would try for you, though. If that’s what you wanted.
The heat radiating from your skin through your shirt was a clear sign of just how much he was affecting you. You don’t know he can tell, but he does. He can sense it. He can smell it.
Despite how much he’s wanted this, how much he’s been dreaming of this, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that this wasn’t right. This feels too fast. No real connection. No romance.
But if you want this just as much as he does, he’s not fucking leaving.
“I…” you start, your words absolutely failing you. You feel so small below him, so vulnerable. An idea sparks, and there’s a particular glint in your eye. Fine, you can play that game. “If I can’t see you, then you can’t touch me until I say so.”
Oh.
Peter wasn’t expecting that. Not by a long shot.
“Oh really?” he murmurs, his purr causing you to instinctively squeeze your thighs together. You’re fucking leaking. Maybe he can… just only when you tell him to. You’re calling the shots. His padded fingers move to gently caress your jaw, softly grasping your chin. “You sure about that?”
Who is he kidding? Peter knows he would be a fucking mess if you told him when he could and couldn’t feel you or take control of himself. He loves seeing you flustered, though. It’s a sight he will never forget.
You grab his hand, pulling it away from your chin before pushing him over to land beside you. He lets you, allowing himself to plop down on the bed, his legs still hanging off the edge. He stabilizes himself, sitting up to grab your waist as you straddle him.
Just before his hands can make contact with you, you quickly grab his wrists, shaking your head at him with a grin, “Nu-uh.”
“That’s not very fair.”
“You heard what I said.”
Peter let’s put a short, weak huff of protest at you using his own words against him. You’re fully aware that he’s much stronger than you could ever be, and yet he was letting you control him. You release his wrists, pressing a hand against his chest, pushing him down until his back is against the bed.
Softly grinding your hips on his way down, you could feel him twitching and hardening against your clothed cunt, his suit failing him tremendously.
“Shit, you’re that easy?” you tease, moving your hips back and forth, the friction only worsening the wet spot forming on your panties, seeping to your shorts. He could feel it.
“F-fuck, so are you,” he whimpers in defense, unable to control how pathetic he is from the change in dynamic, his gloved fingers grasping at the blanket to avoid touching you without permission. “You’re so wet.”
“You can feel that?” you smile, leaning forward to cup his jaw, running your thumb over his mask-covered lips. You lift yourself up, and he whines at the loss of contact. A playful smirk tugs at your lips, “Aw, don’t be like that.”
Your hand moves from his face and down his chest until you feel his abs, feeling them twitch beneath your touch. You need to see him.
“Take it off,” you demand softly, removing yourself from his lap and moving to lay properly on the bed, watching as he struggles to regain himself to stand. Once he does, you watch him discard the suit, taking note of the way the cloth tightly hugs his muscles until it’s gone. Your eyes light up as soon as his abs are exposed, you almost want to throw the whole game out the window and have him take you. But you had to admit, watching him struggle and fall apart was even better.
Your eyes trail down to his briefs, the large tent exposing just how much he needs you. Of course, he kept the mask on. He stands there, unsure of what to do, suit discarded to the floor.
You twist your wrist, motioning for him to come closer with your finger, curling it toward you. His drops his bare hands to the bed, carefully crawling onto your covers until he’s hovering over you.
“Now take mine off.”
Holy fuck.
Swallowing thickly, Peter’s hands shift to the hem of your shirt, wanting to slip them underneath and touch your warm, bare skin. He contains himself just enough. He gently pulls your shirt up, his heartbeat picking up once again. He pushes it above your waist, exposing your bra that's so pretty and lacy. Almost as if you'd planned this already.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers to himself, the barrier of the mask making it difficult for you to hear. You don't bother having him repeat himself, lifting your back slightly to allow him to pull your shirt over your head.
He reaches to grab your clothed breast, eyes wide and hungry, but he stops himself. Still lifted, you unclasp your bra and before you can even move another inch, he's tugging it off you, the straps easing off your shoulders.
"Shit," he nearly moans, the sight enough to have him leaking. He's already throbbing, it's almost painful. He wants to touch them, to squeeze your plushy skin, but you haven't told him to yet. "You're so pretty. You know how fucking pretty you are?"
"I've been told," you smile irresistibly, your shoulders lifting slightly in a shrug. You've been told? By who?
Stop it, he thinks to himself, to his own thoughts. He has you right here, underneath him.
His hands shift downward, eager and cold, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shorts. He doesn’t waste any time. As he tugs your shorts down your thighs, you hear a pitiful, muffled whimper. You look down to see his thumb just barely grazing the wet spot on your panties.
God, you smell so sweet.
“Please,” he whimpers again, his fingers hovering over the side of the thin cotton, wanting to pull them aside. You smile, your hand lowering and wrapping around his to guide his hand, having him push them over, exposing your slick folds.
"Go on," you nod, slightly condescending and full of pity as you hand-over-hand guide him further, allowing his finger to graze before pushing closer, his finger slipping between your wet slit and making a filthy squelch.
“Pretty,” he huffs. He’s fucking vibrating. Every bone in his body, his mind, everything is telling him to just take you. He’s being good, though. You have to give him that credit.
He pushes his finger inside you, a puff of air being knocked out of his lungs as he feels your walls hug around it. You’re tight. He curls it inside you, earning a tiny moan from you as you buck your hips up ever so slightly. All restraint is lost.
“Oh, god,” you whimper softly, melting beneath him. You sound so pretty. He can’t take it. He can’t keep holding back. He needs you to break and give in fully.
Peter’s free hand moves to your lower stomach, pressing down to hold you in place as his finger works inside you, pumping slowly yet deliciously loud.
“S-shit, so wet. So fucking wet,” he murmurs to himself, easing in a second finger. It almost feels like he’s done this before, or it’s just from the spike in confidence after hearing the pretty noises you make.
Softly biting your lower lip, you try to grasp his hand, wanting to stop him just to tease him but he surprises you. Quickly, moves his free hand to grab yours before holding it down against your stomach, on the same spot that his was previously. “J-Just.. wait. Please, let me.”
Of course, you give in. Peter experiments, pumping his fingers as deep as he can, the veins in his hands prominent. He watches, completely mesmerized, at the way your pussy sucks in his fingers, accepting them, your juices leaking around them. The filthy sound your pussy’s making combined with that warm squeeze — he can’t wait any longer.
If you smell this good, he can only imagine how you taste. He needs to know. He pulls his hand back, looking up at you.
“Please… Cover your eyes,” he demands in a gentle tone, waiting until you cover them with your forearm, your back resting comfortably against your plushy sheets. He pulls the mask up just enough to expose his lips, raw and plump from him biting them, trying to keep himself from sounding utterly fucking pathetic.
He doesn’t even bother properly removing your panties first, he just keeps them held to the side as he dives down. You gasp, feeling his tongue dip between your folds, collecting your wetness on his tongue before swiping it up to your clit. You taste just as sweet as he thought you would; even more so.
He groans against you, the vibrations shooting straight into your core. His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, pulling a loud, unapologetic moan from your throat. The pretty sound causes his cock to twitch against his briefs, his hips starting to slowly rutt into the mattress. He’s ravenous.
“Fuck, you taste so sweet... so good.. s'good,” he slurs incoherently, his tongue working almost expertly, swirling around your sensitive bud with such focus, softly sucking then lapping at it. Over and over.
You feel his fingers push inside you again, your mouth falling open with a pitiful cry. His mouth works meticulously with his fingers, feeling your orgasm creeping closer, the spindle in your core tightening with each passing second.
“My fucking g-god, you’re… you’re doing so good,” you breathe between your words, your chest rising and falling rapidly as he laps at your messy cunt like a little puppy. He whimpers against you, his fingers curling each time he sucks around your bud. The friction he's created, rutting his cock against the mattress, he's already fucking close.
So are you. It shocks you, really. You’ve never had someone get you so close so quickly. It’s like he was made for this.
“Shitshit, I’m— fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you squeak softly, whimpering when you feel his free hand on your waist, his fingers squeezing your soft, plushy skin. He keeps the same pace, not wanting to ruin this for you. He can feel you squeezing around his fingers that are expertly pumping inside you, curling deliciously to graze your sweet spot. “F-fuck!”
Your thighs squeeze together, trapping his face against your messy cunt as you start to cum, your eyes blowing wide. You’re shaking, and not just because of the force of his fingers ramming into you, working you through your orgasm. Peter can feel how hard you’re breathing, his thumb rising and falling on your stomach as he keeps his grip on your waist firm, holding you.
Just as you start to reach down for his head to pull it closer, he pulls away from you, the filthy pop of his lips disconnecting from your clit echoing between you.
"Shit, what's wrong?"
"Nothings wrong," he responds a little too quickly.
You can hear the rustling of him pulling his mask back down, your heart jumping in your chest.
“You can look now,” he breathes, moving to hover above you, his cock throbbing against your thigh within the confines of his briefs. You’re still panting as you move your arm away to see him hovered above you, your eyes searching his through the mask. “Did I do a good job?”
“Such a good job,” you huff, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. Your hand instantly moves down to his clothed cock, your fingers curling around him. You feel the definition, and how much he’s throbbing.
Nearly instantly, he’s whimpering. You feel his two fingers, still wet and messy from you, pushing against your lips. You were hoping to taste yourself on his tongue, but this’ll do. You part them, sucking them as soon as they touch your tongue.
Peter didn’t expect it to feel so good, the way your tongue wraps around his fingers makes his head spin. You hadn’t even really touched him yet and he’s a leaking, moaning mess.
Taking him by surprise, you slip your hand into his briefs, your soft fingers wrapping around him to slowly stroke him as you continue sucking on his fingers. His eyes roll, his head tilting back slightly as he relishes in the feeling. It’s just like how he imagined it.
Despite being unable to see his face, you can tell he’s falling apart. You swear it’s like he knows what he’s doing, but has never been touched before. Maybe he really is just that pathetic.
You start to fasten the pace of your hand, but just as you start, he’s just as quick to stop you.
“S-stop,” he whimpers, pulling his fingers from your mouth and lifting his hips. You retract your hand, and before you can ask what happened, he’s quick to continue, “I’m already getting close.”
What?
He pushes his briefs down the rest of the way, kicking them off. You see the way his cock springs free, aching red and already leaking precum at the tip. In an instant, he's hovering over you again, his cock just mere inches from you. From where you want him the most.
“You poor thing-” your teasing is cut short when you feel his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling them closer to him. You gasp, eyebrows raising as he softly grinds his tip against your slit free-handed. He’s rushing and he knows it. He can’t fucking help it.
You wanted to degrade him, to remind him of his rules, but he's just so desperate. So needy. It's a pretty sight.
“J-Just tell me when I can, please,” he huffs, his tip rubbing between your folds causing a filthy squelching sound. His eyes are focused on your pretty cunt, at the way his tip fits perfectly against your slit before he starts to push in, “Oh my god, fuck, please. Tell me. Tell me I can—“
"Of course you can, baby. Touch me," you purr teasingly, your hands move to his hips, gently tugging to pull him even closer. The pet name nearly makes him rut, but he's hanging on to the last thread of control he has left. He pushes in slowly, the pitiful sound he makes nearly making you gush.
"O-oh my, fuck. Thank you. Shit, you're so tight," he whines, pushing into you slowly, watching your pussy take him, sucking him in inch by inch. Your hands tighten on his hips, your nails sinking into his taut skin.
“Feels so good, doesn’t it?” you purr, intently watching the way his movements stutter at your teasing. He can't take it. He can't fucking take it anymore.
"Yes, yes. Feels so fucking good," he whimpers, pushing in the rest of the way before bottoming out completely with his hips snug against yours. The feeling makes your eyes roll slightly, your head tilting back against the pillow.
When you move to roll your hips against his, his hands fly from your thighs to your waist, pushing you slightly up the bed with such ease, stopping your movements, "S-stop, stop."
You look up at him, naturally searching for his eyes through the mask, "It's okay, we can stop."
"No, I just," he grunts, his hips shaking slightly as he fights to control himself. "I need a second."
“Okay,” you nod softly, lifting a hand from his hips to wrap it around the side of his throat, your thumb gently caressing his adam’s apple. He swallows thickly, and you feel it bob under your touch.
With the remnants of your orgasm still rippling through you, you can’t control the way your cunt flutters around him. Fuck, is he gonna have to cum before he can keep going? He wants this to last.
Slowly, his hips start rolling against yours, “I-I’m okay, sorry, m’sorry,” he whispers, looking back down at where you’re connected before rambling on.
"You have no idea-" he grunts, eyes locked onto the way his cock is fully stuffed inside you, your pussy taking him so good. So wet and eager. He pulls his hips back until his cock slips out halfway, glistening with your juices before he slowly pushes back in, listening to the filthy sound it makes, "-how much I've thought about this."
His hands are still tightly gripping your waist as his hips work to keep a steady pace. He doesn't want to go too fast, he can’t. This is so embarrassing.
Your eyes light up at the admission, hand still gently wrapped around the side of his neck, “Shit. I’m- me too.”
His ears perk, his hips never faltering. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, your response making him whimper.
“I want to see you,” you whisper, your fingers slipping down to the edge of his mask at the base of his neck. “Let me kiss you.”
He stills. Is it too risky? At this point, how would a kiss be more ridiculous than him literally eating you out?
Well, it’s not, but it’s too much risk.
“You can’t.”
“Why? You don’t have to tell me your name.”
“That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
How is he supposed to answer that?
His hands leave your waist, leaving your skin cold. He slips a hand underneath you, between your back and the mattress, lifting you enough to press your chest against his. Your face rests just above his shoulder as his hips continue thrusting against yours, deep and slow. His arm stays there, tightly holding you against him, your eyes struggling to stay focused. That’s when you hear it.
With his free hand, he pulls the mask off, but purposely holding you close enough that he could hide his face over your shoulder.
“Y-You really don’t trust me?” you manage with a moan, feeling his bare chest tighten against yours at the accusation.
“That’s not it,” he groans softly against the side of your neck, his lips finally touching the skin of it, warm and wet. You feel his cock twitch inside you, your eyes hooded with the inability to focus.
“Mmh, then what is it?”
“I trust you. I don’t trust what might happen.”
“Please.”
“I can’t, f-fuck,” he whimpers against your skin, his hips starting to fasten in pace at the sound of your plea. The filthy fucking sounds your pussy is making is driving him insane, his cock easing in and out effortlessly. You know there’s no winning this.
You wrap your arms above his shoulders and around his back, holding him as you tuck your chin into the crevice between his neck and shoulder. You feel him breathing into your neck, his breath shaky and weak. That oh-so familiar scent has Peter’s head spinning.
“You smell so good. I fucking dream about this, about you,” he pathetically admits, voice weak and breath hot against your neck. “Y-You- fuck, you make me fucking cum in my sleep. Make me- agh, wake up all messy.”
He’s losing it. He’s so vulgar.
He hears your gasp, so close and soft beside his ear, it sends a chill down his spine.
“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” he whimpers, his voice barely audible when all you can focus on is how much of a loud fucking mess he’s making of your poor cunt. “I dream about fucking you, just like this, making you cum around me, s-shit.”
The thought has his hips stuttering before he picks up the pace even more, his hips smacking yours with a force that causes your body to jolt with each thrust. His grip is tight as he holds you, feeling you jolt against him all while he whimpers in your ear, struggling to not look at you. His other hand remains on your waist, helping to stabilize you as he fucks into you. The filthy squelching of your cunt grows even louder, and you feel the vibrations of a low growl against your neck, “F-Fucking god, do you hear it?”
“Mh-m, yes,” you moan, your nails digging into the skin of his back. Peter wouldn’t be able to explain the sudden confidence boost, particularly with his words.
“S’fucking messy,” he whimpers, your wetness splashing on his thighs after each deep thrust, dribbling down his skin. You feel his lips connect with the side of your neck, sucking a harsh love mark into your skin before softly licking it to soothe it. He does it again, over and over, his pitiful noises vibrating against your throat.
Your eyes roll at the feeling, your senses overloading. You feel your core tightening, your second orgasm growing dangerously close.
“I’m gonna… mmph, fuck, I-I’m close,” you moan into his ear, your pussy milking him with each jolt he causes. With the arm wrapped around your back, he pulls you closer. With his other, he releases your waist, his free hand moving to grab your arm and guide your hand down to your stomach. Pressing his hand on top of yours, he forces you to feel your lower stomach.
You feel it immediately, your stomach bulging slightly with each pump of his cock. He’s in your fucking guts.
“Y’feel it? Feel me in your tummy?” he moans softly in you ear, his pathetic expression one that he’d be embarrassed for you to see. There’s no way you don’t feel it, even he can as he holds your hand down against your rapidly bulging skin. “Feel me filling y’up.”
That was a statement. A demand. Your eyes roll back again, your body growing weak in his hold as he takes complete control. You don’t have any fight left in you to tease him. You’re so fucking close, facing an internal conflict with the need to cum and the desire to keep going.
“Fill me up,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his, purposely squeezing your pussy around him, wanting to milk every last drop. “I wanna feel you cum.”
“O-oh my, haah, g-god, aaagh,” Peter instantly whines, his mouth parting open as he starts driving into you faster, pounding his hips into yours. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
He was being so good, now he’s rushing just because you told him to fill your pretty cunt with his cum?
How pathetic can he get?
“You’re doing so fucking good,” you praise softly, feeling him fuck into you even deeper with your hand still prisoned between his and your stomach. That’s all he needed.
“S-shit, t-thank you,” he whines louder, his voice cracking in your ear as his chest tightens against yours, his breath growing shallow. He doesn’t have time to warn you before he’s cumming. “Thankyouthankyou, fuck!”
His cock twitches with each spurt of thick, warm ropes of cum stuffing inside you. The pathetic sounds he’s making and the feeling of his cum filling you up is enough for you to break, your pussy spasming around him uncontrollably. Your body goes slack against him, thighs trembling as you gasp like all the air in your lungs was violently knocked out.
What’s shocking is he doesn’t stop. His hips keep moving, pistoning relentlessly as he keeps cumming. Your pussy can only contain so much, the leftovers of cum leaking out of you, bubbling around your slit and making a filthy mess each time he pulls his hips back and thrusts back in. It’s like he purposely wants to overfill it, to stuff you full and keep fucking it back into you, not wanting to waste it.
With your limbs weak and achy, you’re completely limp, but that doesn’t mean you want to stop. You lift your hand from your stomach, lacing your fingers with his before he plants your hand back down against your plushy skin, not letting up. You move your other hand from his back to the nape of his neck, barely grazing his hair as your fingers unintentionally land on his inhibitor.
Oh dear.
“F-fuck, don’t. Don’t touch that,” he struggles, a whiny moan escaping him as he feels your pussy squeezing him so fucking tight. He pulls his hand from yours on your stomach, quickly moving to grab your wrist, but it's already too late.
He feels it detach from his skin.
You didn’t mean to, only wanting to grab onto him, but it catches onto your fingers and slides out of place.
“Shit!” he grunts, his free hand moving to cover your eyes. He sits up, still inside you as he looks around for the inhibitor that’s now fallen and out of sight.
“W-what! What was that?”
“Just- don’t move,” he pleads, his head twisting as his eyes search the bunched up sheets. “Fuck, where did it go?”
“Please, just let me see you,” you beg, your hand moving to grab onto his that’s blocking your vision.
“N-no! Just hold on a second—“
“Peter.”
Oh, no.
He stills completely, eyes widening as he takes in hearing his name coming from your mouth. His ears start ringing.
“Peter, I know it’s you.”
“What? That’s… not my name,” he lies, eyes still wide, his cheeks flushing rosy red.
“Inhibitor complete. Trial number forty-seven on standby.”
This can't be happening.
“What did you say?”
Peter gasps, his back shooting up from his bed. Eyes wide, heart pounding. He’s in his room. Peter’s hand quickly moves up to graze the back of his neck. His skin is damp, a cold chill creeping through him at the realization he never had the inhibitor on.
No, no, no. It felt so real.
Whipping his head in the direction of his monitor, he sees the notification that the inhibitor is complete, blinking across the screen. The same notification he swore he already saw. But he didn’t.
When he laid down for that nap at nine, he never truly woke up.
How did he possibly wake up from a nap, put the inhibitor on, and go see you, all within one dream? It made sense, considering how fast things escalated and how he knows what your bedroom like looks now, but…
Something is wrong. It felt too fucking real.
He glances over at his nightstand, the clock blinking 6:26am. Beside his alarm clock was… nothing. No, he could’ve sworn that’s where he put your necklace, carefully laid on the stained wood.
What is going on?
That’s when he feels it. The dampness in his briefs, warm and sticky. His hands fly to his face, a frustrated groan bellowing from him.
“Fuck!”
a/n: phew… this was a big one. forgive me for the sloppy sex, i wanted it to feel natural & unnatural at the same time since he was ‘dreaming’ about it. did you catch on?? (feel free to send in requests <3)
