18+ minors do not interact or click the links! Each link contains porn. All links are from twitter. You must be logged into Twitter for the links to open!
Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!
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— Tobey!Peter
blindfolding you to keep his identity secret
Peter filling your pussy up after you’ve begged for it all day
cozy evening fucking
jerking off bigdick!Peter
riding his face
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— Andrew!Peter
showing Peter your tongue trick
Peter loves his alt girlfriend
first time trying anal together
making sure he breeds your little pussy
him cumming all over your body
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— Tom!Peter
playing with your sensitive pussy
movie night at Peter’s place
getting pounded in the bathroom
sucking him off while he games
Peter using your pussy to let out some pent up anger
. . .“The mask hides the fear. The heart does the rest.”
Here I Stay — you're Gwen Stacy in TASM and you died — you're variant Gwen and you get pulled into Peter’s universe.
part one | two | three
Bitter Sweet Reunions — you see your ex, Peter, at a party and he isn't too fond of your new boyfriend.
If It Isn't You — Peter meets an artist on his way to an interview and ends up saving her life later — pretty weird coincidence… until she gives him her nickname.
part one | two | three
Make It Hurt — you’ve been showing up to school with bruises every time you “visit your boyfriend,” and your obvious lies are worrying Peter — at the same time, he gains a partner in crime-fighting.
part one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten +*
What A Sad Sight — Peter is due for another visit, and on his way to you — he's taken back to the past, and the memories prove to be sadder than they used to be.
part one | two
Scared To See The Ending — Peter has been off, and you’re starting to worry for your relationship. It surely doesn’t help that everything he did could only be deduced into one thing you refuse to believe.
Ache In You — You could tell he blamed you in some way for her death — and that actually hurts more than when you heard that snap echo throughout the tower. It’s been months since you last talked and your reunion didn’t exactly provide healing.
part one | two | three | four
About the Noise — Peter hears concerning noises from the apartment above his, growing worried for the person he heard crying after the interruption, he couldn’t help but knock on your door to see if you’re okay.
Nearly Lost You — A fire breaking out in your apartment reveals what Peter was hoping to hide from you, to keep you safe.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ TikTok Blurbs Series
Texting him, “He’s gone, you can come over now,” right after your boyfriend leaves.
He forgets your anniversary and comes up with the worst possible explanation.
You call Peter a “friend” during a phone call just to see his reaction.
You call Peter by the wrong name on purpose to see how he responds.
Peter’s reaction to you wearing the TikTok/Amazon leggings.
SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.
WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI
WORD COUNT - 4.5k
// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite
name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete
On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before.
And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter.
Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd.
“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!”
Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film.
“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-”
Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?”
“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,”
Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!”
Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror.
Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!”
“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!”
For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him.
“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!”
“It’s not abuse-”
You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.”
“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is.
“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!”
The expression on his face is downright laughable.
It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk.
“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory.
Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you.
“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you.
Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.”
Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas.
“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.”
Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!”
His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile.
Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect.
This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort.
Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life.
Not yet, at least.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.”
You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong.
Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?”
Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too?
You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter.
The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating.
“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?”
His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.”
It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs.
“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?”
A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-”
He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel.
“If you need anything, call 911.”
“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment.
Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest.
You could definitely get used to having him around.
A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room.
Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier.
A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame.
Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance.
Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps.
Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now.
You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night.
But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence.
As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind.
If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it.
Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent.
Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest.
The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction.
No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar!
An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment…
Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil.
Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space.
The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver.
Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night.
On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear.
The room was messy, but empty.
Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread.
If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries…
Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch.
The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress.
For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket.
You think of how you should follow that advice.
You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you.
But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force.
Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep.
Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat.
So this must be Peter 2.
The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume.
Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask.
The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off.
You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-
Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger.
You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him.
Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you.
Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach.
A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs.
You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him.
“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer.
He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-”
His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice.
“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.”
He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too.
But not him.
“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.”
“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.”
He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.”
“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!”
“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.”
The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?”
He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.”
“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.”
It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man.
Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building…
“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.”
You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home.
“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,”
“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.”
“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds.
The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence.
Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught.
You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.”
For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?”
He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses.
“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,”
He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat.
“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.”
As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it.
Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist.
Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.”
He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.”
Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips.
“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt.
It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care.
“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!”
The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.”
The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?!
You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?”
His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech.
“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!”
The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—
He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.”
It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot.
He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems.
He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes.
His eyes.
They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters.
“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?”
It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe!
He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.”
You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood.
“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?”
You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.
“Pete.”
a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.
also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!
part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th
☯ SYNOPSIS : When Peter's girlfriend pays him a little visit in Midtown High School and meets his long time bully, Flash Thompson.
☯ WARNINGS : Au, stark!reader, Peter is barely present in the fic, cursing.
☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. I have been having such a bad writer's block that I couldn't write anything for past few weeks. I'm writing this to, hopefully, get over my writer's block.
𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
The red Saleen S7 car, parked outside of Midtown High School, gaining curious glances from the students and passersby. You wait, sitting on the driver's seat, with your phone in your hand. The past week you were out of the country with your father so you had not seen him for the past seven days and barely got to talk to him.
So when you came back today, you wanted to give him a surprise visit. You came here, all confident, but now you were doubting your choices. Maybe you should just wait till school ends?
Fuck it. You are Y/N Stark, girl. Since when do you get nervous?
You checked yourself last time in the back mirror. Perfect as always. You throw yourself a flying kiss and put on your favourite pair of glasses. The car door opens with a click and you get down. It was not long before you were walking down the halls of Midtown High, making everyone stop what they were doing and gawk at you.
You chuckle in your mind. Of course you loved being the centre of attention. You were Tony Stark's daughter after all. Now there's one problem. You don't know exactly where Peter is. You look around the hall before your eyes fall on a boy, sitting with two girl on each side.
Without any second thoughts, you walk up to him, "Hey, do you know where Peter Parker is?"
Flash tore his eyes from the beautiful girls in his arm to the legs standing in front of him. He raised his eyes to your face. His gaze so disgusting that made you want to throw up.
"Talking to me, angel?" Flash stood up, abandoning the girls.
You roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt of flirting. At least he got the angel part right.
"I asked if you know where Peter Parker is." You deadpan.
"Peter Parker? Oh! You mean penis Parker. What do you need with him? I'm sure I can help you way more than he can." Flash wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you a suggestive look.
You just stared at him, completely unimpressed and now angered. This pathetic flirt has the audacity to call your baby penis— wait a damn minute. Penis Parker? Something clicked in your mind.
"Are you Flash Thompson?" You ask before you could stop yourself.
Surprise flashed on his face before a smug smirk appeared on his face.
"Wow! I know that I'm famous but not much. Damn!" He said, running a hand through his hair.
You giggle at his ignorance as you take off your glasses. Folding it and keeping it safely in your hand bag, you step towards him, closing the distance between you two.
"Listen here you little shit." The smirk on his fell at your words, "If I ever hear from Peter that even got anywhere near him, I'll kidnap you, shave off your head, leave you on a deserted island and post your disgusting nudes all over the internet."
"Wh—"
"Shut up and listen." Flash gulped with fear, his face covered in sweat. The menacing aura around you looked scarier than the monster under his bed.
You say while jabbing on his forehead with your pointer finger, "Don't think of him, don't look at him, don't walk on his direction, don't breathe on his direction. Don't go anywhere around my boyfriend. Got it, you failed experiment of a chimpanzee?"
"Y-yes, I....um, I-I..... I under-understand." He nodded his head vigorously. Anything to get away from you.
"Good." You back away, giving him space to finally breathe in relief. Fuck! He didn't know Peter's girlfriend was this scary.
"Y/N?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend called from behind and your demeanour changed like lizards change colours.
"Hey, Pete." You walk up, giving him a quick kiss, "let's go, you are skipping class today. I missed you."
You linked your arm with him and started dragging him out of the school. Peter complied with you because he did miss you a lot too and skipping one day was not going to do any harm on him.
"I missed you a lot." Peter smiled down at you.
You left the school, leaving behind a embarrassed Flash. After you two left did Flash realised the crowd of students circling around him in the hallway. And they were chuckling while looking down at his pants?
Flash looked, "FUCK!"
His blue jeans were now dark blue, water spread on the floor around him. He had peed in his pants. His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He should not have fucked with Peter.
Imagine Peter Missing You ...after a long night of patrolling Peter comes in through your window, careful as to not wake your family.
You looked over and saw him, still in his red and blue cald suit "hi baby, how'd everything go?"
When he didn't respond you looked up to see your boyfriend taking off his mask, his hair falling exactly how you liked it. Slightly messy, maybe even sweaty "Peter?"
He pulled you up out of your chair and pushed you into the bed "hey I still have biolo-"
"I'll do it for you" and you knew he would. He'd wake up early the next morning to do all your homework and more.
You felt his knee move up in between your legs "you're so beautiful" you pushed your weight down onto his knee. Peter brought his head down to kiss your neck.
Even though you were the one grinding and getting friction, he was the one moaning and sighing into your skin.
"long night?" In response he only nodded his head
"I missed you so much..I want you now" he paused looking up at you "please"
"here.." you got up and had your boyfriend sit with his back on the head bored. As your actions continued Peter realized what was about to happen "baby no-"
"why not?" You looked up at him.
"I don't want you to do t-that I want you to feel go-"
You cut him off by shoving him into your mouth "(Y/N s-stop" peters hand came down to hold your face while you sucked him in a little deeper each minute "why?"
I'm finally continuing the series.... No seriously, if anyone still wants to read this here it is. I fell out of the fandom for a while when it was messing with my mental health a bit. But here is Part Four, and it's time for TASM Peters love! (Canon divergence)
...This is also not Beta'd and I am not that great at writing. But still, please enjoy.
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With the other two Peter Parkers out hunting green goblin. TASM Peter is tasked with keeping you safe. But how can you even begin to handle the fact the Green Goblin is hunting you down when you're falling in love. You know you've been completely in love with your world Peter Parker but ignore your feelings because of MJ's relationship with Peter. But after sleeping with older Peter your mind is rocked. Trying to deny these budding feelings for the oldest Peter you can't help but feel your heart flutter around the tall and shy Peter. But you're not crazy enough to be in love with all three... Right???
Word Count: 4000+
Andrews!Peter= Peter Toms!Peter= Parker Tobeys!Peter = Pete
You shifted uncomfortably in chair you were sitting on. After your universe's Peter or Parker as he was temporarily designated got back to your apartment you were given little time to pack as much as you could in a backpack and dip out of your apartment. The three spider boys all agreeing that since Green Goblin knew your name, it would be too dangerous to stay in the apartment leased under your name. Which led you to Ned's grandmothers house where you were currently sitting at the table on a horribly uncomfortable chair.
MJ and Ned sat by your sides, while the three Peters were all anxiously discussing plans over the table. MJ and Ned were talking too, but you heard nothing but a slight buzzing noise in your ears. Overwhelmed with a pit of dread, anxiety, fear.... and guilt.
"Y/N!" You jolt as someone shouts your name. You glance up quickly to see everyone at the table staring at you with concern.
"We said your name like a hundred times dude... You weren't answering" MJ states softly, hand coming up to your shoulder as she looks at you with concern.
You smile weakly. "Sorry, I must have zoned out. What were you guys saying?" you question softly as you turn to face the rest of the group. Everyone's eyes on you.
"We were talking about the plan... But I'm assuming you didn't hear the any of it?" Parker questions softly, looking at you slightly exasperated.
Glancing up at him, you shake your head with a feeble smile. "N-No, I'm sorry." You sigh heavily, "But I'm listening now... So, what's the plan?"
Pete smiles at you gently, "You are going to stay here until we figure this out. Someone will be with you constantly to keep you safe. Your universes Peter... Parker is going to find Doctor Strange and tell him what's going on," Pete says gesturing to Parker. "While I will patrol the streets, this is my Green Goblin were facing, and I have defeated him before. I have the best shot at getting him," Pete explains, standing from his seat across you on the table before slapping a hand onto the tall shy Peter's shoulder. "Which means Peter here is going to stay with you and keep you safe," Pete grins at you.
You glance at the tall boy, your eyes connecting briefly before his eyes drop and he glances down shyly a feeble smile on his lips. Your mine briefly flashes back to your encounter this morning, where Peter found you and Pete in a compromising position. A blush warming your cheeks as you glance down at the table nervously.
Unbeknownst to you Parker tenses as he watches this interaction, jaw clenching as he glares at Peter with a questioning look. An action that doesn't go unnoticed to MJ sitting next to you, who is watching her boyfriend with an analytical expression.
The tension between both parties is broken when Ned's grandmother suddenly bursts into the room holding a plate of cookies and placing them on the table without a word. Before shuffling back into the kitchen mumbling something about needing lots of milk.
Pete smiles grabbing a cookie and shoving it in his mouth. "Well, let's go save the day," he mumbles through a full mouth.
-----------
Two hours later you find yourself being led into a tiny guest room by Ned, with Peter hovering awkwardly in the door. The room is small, a double bed with a bedside table. An ugly floral print sheet on the bed, and a matching flower designed lamp on the bedside table.
"Yea, it isn't much. But it's the only spare room," Ned says awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "But don't worry, its super clean. My grandma keeps a clean house," He grins at you toothily, which earns a chuckle from Peter behind me.
"It's fine Ned... This is great" you smile at him awkwardly, before walking over to the bed and collapsing back onto it with a huge, defeated sigh.
"I'll leave you to it then. See you tomorrow morning," Ned says cheerily, walking out of the room and past Peter who is still hovering in the doorframe.
You lay there for a moment more feeling absolutely exhausted. Before you sit up abruptly, startling Peter who jolts away from the doorframe. Standing alert, he stares looks at you with shock.
"Wait, this is the only spare room?" you question loudly. You turn and face Peter, who is still looking at you in alarm. "Where are you gonna sleep?" You question worriedly.
Peter relaxes then, a soft smile gracing his features as he looks at you softly. "Don't worry, I'll be on the couch," he says fondly. "And I'll be just downstairs if you need me," he grins shyly, leaning against the doorframe again.
You stare at him stunned for a moment, distracted by how handsome and sexy he looks leaning against the door like that. Before shaking your head softly, clearing your thoughts. "You can't take the couch. I'll take the couch," you say firmly. "You need to be well rested before you fight," you state with a frown, head shaking in worry.
"Oh no. No way I'm going to let you have the couch " Peter says with a frown. Standing he crosses his arms across his chest looking at you with a stern expression. You go to speak again before he cuts you off, "You can fight me as much as you want, I am not gonna let you sleep on that couch!" he says defiantly, looking at you with determination.
You both stare at each other intensely for a moment. Before you shrug at him, a smug expression flitting over your face as you stand from the bed. Peter looking at you warily, wavering at your sudden confidence.
"Well, if you won't take the bed. I won't take the bed. And if you won't let me take the couch, then I guess I'll just have to stay on the floor," you shrug with a grin, as you begin to sink onto the floor. Peter jumps in alarm at this, rushing over to you and pulling you back up by the shoulders.
"No. Please," he sighs as he hoists you back onto the bed, arms holding your shoulders. Shaking his head with a frown he looks down at you with his big brown eyes. "Please. Please just sleep on the bed... For me," he whispers out softly, giving you the best puppy dog eyes you've ever seen.
You bite your lip harshly, as you start to lose all resolve. You stare into his eyes, willing yourself to not give in, but find yourself unable to look away from those beautiful eyes. Glancing down at his lips quickly, you look back into those soft eyes and let out a big sigh before looking down at your lap.
Peter smiles victoriously then, briefly thinking his has won. Before you glance back up into his eyes, a pout on your lips as you give him the biggest puppy dog eyes you can. Your E/C eyes shimmering, as you stare at him pleadingly.
"Fine I won't take the couch. If..." You start to say, pouting up at him as you grip his forearms from where they still hold your shoulders. "If we both take the bed?" you whisper up at him, nerves suddenly filling your stomach.
Peter tenses suddenly, looking at you with shock. His hands gripping your shoulders tightly. You glance up at him worriedly, worried you had overstepped your bounds.
He stands up straighter, removing his arms from your shoulders. Before scratching his neck nervously. You bite your lip harshly, about to speak up and retract your statement before Peter speaks.
"Ok," he says with an anxious smile, shuffling on his feet gently.
Your heart flutters, face flushing as you feel suddenly extremely aware of the situation.
"Yea, ok. That uh... Thats good then," you say with a soft smile, turning to the side to hide the blush forming on your face.
--------
Later, the two of you are laying rather stiffly next to each other on the bed. The bed is rather small for two people and Peter is pressed as far away from you as possible. It also certainly doesn't help that the handsome boy sleeps shirtless.
In that moment he feels so close yet so far away. You can feel the heat radiating from your side. All you would need to do is shift a inch or so to the left and you could press yourself against his bare, hot... chiselled... defined chest. 'Snap out of its YIN!' you think to yourself, shaking your head in attempt to clear your head of sinful thoughts.
In the dark you nervously glance over, finding his figure in the dark. He's lying flat on his back breathing steadily, but he looks rigid and tense. You can't help but think he looks very uncomfortable.
"Peter? Are you awake?" you whisper out softly.
"Yea," Peter whispers softly, shifting slightly when you speak.
"Can I ask you something?" You question with a whisper.
"Yea" he replies, head turning on his pillow to face you.
At first, you want to comment on how uncomfortable he looks while sleeping. "Earlier, when you caught me with Pete. Why did you look at me like you were... Sad?" You blurt before you even register what you're asking.
Peter tenses suddenly, seeming to hesitate. Before he can speak however you cut him off. "Oh I mean. You were probably just uncomfortable right? I mean, because I was with another Pete and i.."
"Hey, I um. I wasn't uncomfortable," Peter cuts of your rambling suddenly, shifting closer to you on the bed. "I just... It's hard to explain." he says nervously, a hand coming up to your cheek, brushing a hair behind your ear.
"I'm a good listener?" you state softly, cheeks flushing as he brushes your hair behind your ear. He lets out a soft sigh at your statement, bringing his hand in-between you as he shifts on to his side to face you. You mimic his movements, turning onto your side to face him.
"Well, I had a YIN in my universe as well." He states nervously, hands fiddling with the bedsheet.
"You did" you whisper out questioningly. You had some suspicions based on how the two other dimension Petes had treated and looked at you. But it was alarming to hear out loud.
"Y-yea." He begins, seemingly nervous. "My YIN was my best friend. She was there for me for as long as I could remember. And she was there for me when... When Gwen..." He sniffles slightly, choking on his words. You bring a hand up, grabbing his in your own softly.
He sighs, grabbing your hand tight in his, squeezing it tightly. "Well, YIN was there for me when Gwen died. She was my rock, and one day she... she told me she had feelings for me..." He whispers out, my hand gripping his hard at the news. "And I. I didn't react well... I pushed her away, I yelled and screamed. I told her I didn't feel the same... And I ended up pushing her out of my life completely. We haven't spoken since." He whispers out, crying softly at his confession.
"Oh wow, Pete... That's a lot" you whisper out, bring your free hand up to his face to wipe the tears from his cheeks.
"I hated how I reacted; I was just so upset... All I could think about was Gwen. I regretted it instantly." He sniffles, leaning into your hand on his face. "I was too ashamed to ever find her again... But the worst part is. I loved her as well." He sighs softly, closing his eyes as he brings a hand up to cup your hand on his face. His other hand intertwining your fingers on the bed. "Seeing you and Pete together. It gave me a sense of what I could've had if I wasn't so..." he says softly, eyes opening again to peer at you.
You'd moved closer during his story, your body flushed against his. Moving your softly hand down his cheek, you bring your thumb to his lips. "You... You could still have that, Peter. You can find your YIN, reconcile," you say breathily, pressing your chest against his.
"I can't" he sniffles out, crying a little harder. "She moves on. She's happily married now with kids. I can't be in her live" he whispers while stroking your hair softly.
"I'm sorry you lost your chance Peter, I'm sorry that this happened to you" you say, your other hand unlatching from his grip as you cup his cheeks with both hands. "But... you can always have a chance now?" you whisper out shakily, looking at his lips.
(SMUT HERE WILL CONTINUE AT ===== IF YOU WANT TO SKIP)
His eyes widen, before his mouth crashes onto yours, his hands coming up to cup your back as he pulls you close to him. You kiss him back feverishly, teeth clacking as you kiss each other hungrily. His tongue running along the bottom of your lip before gripping it with his teeth and sucking into his mouth.
You whimper into his mouth, one of your legs coming up to his waist as you press against him. He growls softly into your mouth, hands coming onto your waist and pulling you on top of him. You gasp as you straddle him, your core pressed right onto his crotch.
He takes advantage of your open mouth, his tongue pushing past your lips. You whine as his tongue dominates yours, unable to stop your hips from bucking against him. He groans into your mouth at that, hands gripping your hips tight as he begins to pull you against him. One of his hands reaching up and gripping your hair tightly as he pulls you further into the searing kiss. You can feel all the desperation and want coming from him as he hold you so tight it almost hurts.
With your lips now pressed perfectly against his you begin to rock back and forth. You quickly find a rhythm, and you can't stop your whines as your cores is pressed into the bulge in his pyjama shorts over and over again. The thin material adding to the pleasure. With a particularly hard thrust from Peter below you, you notice that he's also commando under his thin pants. You mewl when you notice this, your panties starting to feel drenched.
His other hand comes to your shirt, reaching up and stroking his way up your body to your nipples. He reaches up, grabbing on and tugging it hard, causing you to gasp into his mouth. He fumbles a little when he tries to switch to your other nipple, and he lets out a growl of frustration.
Before you even register what's happening, Peter has flipped you onto your back and ripped your shirt down the middle exposing your bare breasts. His mouth not once leaving yours as he does this. Kissing you feverishly he brings both hands to your breasts, pulling and tugging desperately. His hips bucking against your core in a steady rhythm, both your pants and his completed coated in the added slick and pre-cum coming from you both.
"Y/n" he groans into your mouth loudly before pulling back and staring down at you longingly. He gives your left nipple one last twist, before his hand starts running down your body and past them hem of your panties. He groans loudly when he runs his fingers up and down your folds. "So wet. Is this really for me sweetheart?" He questions, his expression self-conscious as if he doesn't believe he could be turning you on so much.
"Yes Peter. All for you, you're turning me on so much," you say passionately one of your hands reaching up and gripping his cheek gently as you speak. Peter looking down at you then with a sudden ferocity in his eyes. "Fuck Peter, I neeeeeeed," you start to stay before it turns into a moan as Peter suddenly shoves two fingers inside of you and starts thrusting hard and fast. You let out another yelp as he starts going so hard and fast, barely giving you any room to adjust.
"Sorry sweetheart, but if you keep talking like that I won't last long, and I want to come inside of you," he groans throatily, looking down at you with a hazy lust in his eyes. When you gasp and grab his arms tightly, he does hesitate worried he's gone too far. Before you quickly grip his arms again begging him to continue. He smiles softly down at you then, thrusting a third finger in suddenly while his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub fast yet soft circles.
You jolt underneath him, surprised at how fast you could feel that familiar tension in your abdomen as he draws you closer and closer to the edge. You throw your head back eyes closed as, rock your hips against his hand chasing that feeling. His long fingers prodding against your g-spot while his thumb starts rubbing perfectly against your clit. When your right on the edge you open your eyes to find Peter looking down at you with such awe, his beautiful brown eyes sparkling. It all it takes for you to go over the edge, all the while staring into his big doe eyes.
When you settle back down, he kisses you softly and sweetly. He leans back and pulls your pants and panties completely off, gasping softly when he sees how drenched they were. He looks over at you sheepishly, a small grin on his face he pulls down his own pants, freeing his leaking member.
You audibly gulp when you look at it. Briefly thinking of the other Peters. The older Pete had a very thick girthy member that was around 5 & half inches. But this Peter had a long thin member, at least 9 inches and currently straining against his stomach. As he crawled back up to your hips you couldn't help but wonder what your Peters looked like.
A hysterical thought filled you as you pondered sleeping with him just to complete the set. As if you were collecting getting fucked by different Peter Parkers. However, you were shaken from these wild thoughts when you felt Peter's member prodding against your entrance. Shaking your head softly you refocused on the shy handsome man above you.
Peter looked nervous and excited but was staring down at you expectingly waiting for permission. Before you say anything, you glance down and see that he had put a condom on whilst you were daydreaming. A glance back up at him shows you his face now filled with worry as you continue to say nothing. He opens his mouth to speak but stops when you reach a hand down and tug off the condom.
Peter opens his again, but you cut him off. "I'm on the pill," you smile up at him, before redirecting his member to press against your entrance, a silent approval for him to continue. He smiles toothily down at you before pressing into you softly.
You quickly start a slow but deep rhythm, as he rocks his member against you. Your moans are so loud as he reaches parts within you that have never been reached. The pace is slow and steady for a while, before you start to loudly beg him to go harder and deeper. He reaches down and grabs on of your legs, hoisting over his shoulder as he starts to ram into you like a man possessed.
You're practically screaming as he fucks you in this new position, each thrust pressing the tip of his head past your cervix. Your mind briefly regards that there are other people in the house and your borderline screaming, but a sudden angle change against your g-spot wipes your mind of anything but Peter. Peter comes first, groaning into your neck as he empties inside of you. His thumb coming down to help you follow suite.
The two of you lay there panting for a while, before Peter starts to lay sweet kisses on your lips. He kisses you softly till you fall asleep, only briefly stirring to the feel of a damp towel cleaning you off. Your dreams now filled with Peter and Pete, and the happy lives you could live.
Within the rest of the house, Ned's grandma sleep heavily undisturbed by any noise. While Ned stares up at his bedroom roof, eyes bulging and looking traumatized... As well as a seething Peter Parker, your Peter Parker who had returned home to check on you.
======= (END SMUT)
You woke up the next morning to an empty bed. Frowning you glanced around the room looking for Peter but couldn't see the tall man anywhere. Before you could worry you noticed a glass of water and a note. Picking it up you read what it said.
Out on Patrol with the other world Pete, we got an idea on the location on green goblin. Your Peter came home this morning, he'll protect you while we are gone. Stay safe and hydrate. :)
You smile softly at the note, changing into some of your spare clothes as you head downstairs. When you walk into the kitchen, your Peter and Ned are sitting at the table.
"Good morning, everyone," you say softly as you sit down, Neds grandmother quickly dropping a plate of food in front of you before walking back into the kitchen. As no one responds you glance up to see Ned staring red faced as his plate, refusing to make eye contact with you. When you glance over at Parker you flinch as you make eye contact. He's glaring at you intensely, eyes piercing yours with such intensity you almost feel afraid.
"What's wrong with you?" I demand with sudden confidence, unable to handle the intensity of his glare.
"What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with you!??" He shouts, slamming his hands on the table as he stands. Ned turns to look at him in shock, and you flinch as he stands. You don't think you've ever heard Peter shout like that, and never at you.
"I don't understand," You respond hesitantly, not wanting to further upset him. "I didn't do anything wrong," you say worriedly.
Peter barks out a horrible laugh at your words, looking at you with venom in his eyes. "You did nothing wrong? You opened your legs to the other universe's Peter like a whore! That's pretty wrong to me," he shouts at you, slamming his hands down on the table again cracking it with his strength.
You let out a loud gasp at his words and hear two other gasps as well. Glancing over you see Ned staring at Peter in shock. "Peter Parker!" is heard behind you. Turning around you see MJ standing in the door. The source of the other gasp you assume. She is glaring at Peter, her hands on her hips. You'd also never seen her look so angry. Which is saying something considering that she was angry a lot.
Turning back around to face Peter you go to shout at him, defend your actions but you halt when you see him. He's no longer staring at you with anger, but utter devastation. Tears are falling from his eyes and his lips are quivering as he stares at you.
"Peter?" you question softly, flabbergasted at the sudden mood change. Unable to help yourself you reach across the table for him hand, but he jumps back. He stares at you for a moment more, tears flowing harder now, before he runs out the back door. You, Ned and MJ go to chase him, but when you hear the familiar sound of his web shooter you halt, knowing there was no chance to catch him.
You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see Ned and MJ looking at you concerned. "I didn't say anything. I don't know how..." Ned mumbles out, looking at you with both guilt and concern. MJ opens her mouth to speak then. But you suddenly take off running, sprinting up the stairs and into your temporary room. Slamming the door behind you, you begin to cry softly. Never had Peter ever spoken or looked at you like that. It was devastating. You fell onto the bed, thinking of the other two Peter's and how you wished they were here.
You notice neither Ned or MJ had followed you upstairs, and you were grateful. Your cries softened eventually, and you leaned back into the bed as you started to fall asleep. Before you heard the sound of breaking glass. Jolting up from the bed you glance at the window and see a weird looking ball. Looking at in shock and confusion you faintly notice the sound of beeping and laughter... Before everything went white.
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I know these tags are super old, but idk. Let me know if you want me to remove you from the tag list lol.
Whatever Peter you want ^^ also please send in some more asks!!
—
Your hands gripped desperately at the skintight fabric sticking tight to Peter’s biceps, feeling his muscles contract beneath your fingers as he flexed for you.
“Hold on tight, pretty. ‘Feels better that way.”
Your eyes were clenched shut as you rocked back and forth on Peter’s thigh, nodding your head mindlessly as you babbled, “Mhm, feels so good.”
And it was true. The delicately raised black webbing that stretched across the fabric added delicious friction, and you found yourself spreading your thighs wider and wider to try and sink lower and lower onto Peter’s thigh.
You heard him chuckle from above you, and felt the muscles in his arm contract once more as he gently took hold of your arms, steadying you from where you’d started to wobble, “Careful sweets. Gonna tear yourself apart if you go any wider, does it really feel that good?”
The strong timbre of his voice only made things more intense for you, and you felt a sob bubble up your throat, “Yes! Yes, feels so good, so so so good, oh my god, so good.” You weren’t even capable of shutting your mouth anymore, letting your words fade out into a mindless hum of ecstasy. Peter kept a strong grip on your hips, helping guide your torso in a languid, fluid motion against the fabric of his suit and his strong, muscled thigh beneath.
“Peter, I think I’m gonna-”
“Wait,” you felt Peter hook a gloved hand under your chin, lifting your face out from where it had been buried in his chest, “wanna see your face.”
His words alone were enough to send you over the edge, and you felt your thighs shaking as you slumped into his arms and against his chest, tears pricking at your eyes from the sheer amount of stimulation you’d received. You whimpered helplessly against him, your face still tipped upwards to face his own as he admired your expression.
“Just as pretty as I thought it’d be. Ready for some rest, sweets?”
“Mhm,” you let yourself breathe heavily and slowly in his grasp, trying to unfog your brain to no avail.
“Just close your eyes, pretty, I’ll clean up.”
“Did I ruin the suit?” Somewhere amidst your post-orgasm ecstasy, you worried about what you could have done to the thin fabric.
“Are you kidding? Y’made it better. Now every time I see it I’ll remember how amazing it made you feel, how pretty it was to watch you get off on it.”
You tucked your head against Peter’s chest, letting him slowly hoist you up off of the bed and into the bathroom. You vaguely felt him begin cleaning up the mess you’d made, but your eyes were droopy and they managed to shut themselves among Peter’s soft whispers to you about how maybe next time, you could see if his fingers felt better with or without the gloves.
