🗯️･ ˖ · purring at the thought of putting subby ! CLARK KENT in his place when he requests a pay rise
creds ;; @angel-sweetheart911
'you don't think you get payed enough, Kent ?' you licked your thumb before turning the page of your planner , half listening to the whiny worker stood desperately close to your desk.
he nudged his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose nervously , cheeks burning with a feverish anxiety. he was almost entirely distracted by the movements of your hands , the sizeable rock on your index finger catching his attention as it's crystals danced under the office lights.
but more so , the constant motion of taking your thumb between your lips , lubricating it with the thin glaze of saliva and teasing the top corner of the pages with unavoidable precision.
'well i .. that's not what i intended to mean. it just that i've been pulling more hours and—'
in a sudden, swift movement you rose form your seat , hands gripping the corners as you leaned forward. 'and so have the whole publishing team. listen , kent , i see your point , but i can't give everyone a pay rise.'
lowering his head , he noticed just how low cut your shirt was today. his lip quivered. clark was never good at confronting people. it took his coworker , lois , convincing him every day for the last month to walk into your office ; he honestly wished he'd never given in.
'i have a plan , a list. your name will be at the top someday , just not today.' you strolled around the side of your desk, taking to fixing his bright red tie like his mother would do.
sweat beaded along his brow as clark tried desperately to look anywhere but your face. not the time , clark. he thought to himself , but to no avail. his hands were shaking at his sides and his breaths fanned quickly over your face , warm and disturbed.
'you do understand where i'm coming from don't you , kent ?' you cooed , artfully leading him to the floor. he sat with his legs crossed with unquestioning and total submission.
'now , i don't normally tell people where they are on the list , kent. but i pity you so i'll tell you you're .. fifth ? yes. fifth. after martha from marketing ... '
you circled the room , heels clicking on the hardwood floors , stopping now and again to adjust the orientation of a painting slightly or examine the leaves of a pot plant.
' ... and who's third ? oh , of course ! peter. yes , peter , he does all the cover photography and legal stuff. he's really good , you should interview him for that company introduction paper you've been working on and ... '
eventually you had taken a position next to the obedient giant on your floor , working painfully hard to cover the painfully hard erection forming a print on the fabric over his crotch. eyes squinting , brows furrowed.
you towered over him now though , realising just how much you preferred it this way. and at once , the heel of your red-bottom stiletto collided with his chest , pressing against his ribs until his back hit the floor with a thump.
he huffed , glasses pushed against his face. you stood there , heels clicking digging just deep enough to elicit a whimper from the helpless thing beneath you.
' ... so yes , paloma's fourth , and then you. your fifth clark.' you were enjoying this way too much. clark kent on your office floor , doing nothing while you quite literally stepped all over him.
'i have a meeting to get to , but i'm sure you'll have a few minutes to finish this conversation after your shift ?' you told him more than your really asked him.
before he could catch his breath to respond , you'd left his side , grabbing your coat of a peg before you hit the doorway.
'be good for me and turn the lights of when you leave.' you commanded briefly before taking your exit. and leaving him there alone.
clark sat up , glasses crooked and nearly fallen off his face. his cheeks were almost burnt off , coated in a deep red.
the man could only hope the rest of your conversation would go better for him.
⋮ ׁ ៹ i actually loved writing this. thanks to the amazing and very creative @angel-sweetheart911 for the idea , everyone go show my bae some love !! my whiskers are actually twitching at the thought of subby clark. part 2 ??
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content: smuttt, established marriage, petnames, public seggs, fitting room seggs, oral (m!receiving), male whimpering, mommy kink, praise kink, sub!clarkkk, uncircumcised!clark bc yes, hyperspermia!!
⊹★a/n: been struggling w/writer’s block oops!
wc: 2k
꒰๑꒱──────────────★ ˚ ̟ ⊹ ♡
You have money. Tons of money. Like a load of money. So much money, the piles of cash would seem infinite. Naturally, it must be spent. And you have a cutie pie for a husband who you absolutely love to spoil. Especially during your monthly trips to the mall when you have the time.
Today is no different. The Metropolis Mall and its hundreds of stores, especially the luxury ones, were all yours to conquer. You enter the land of endless possibilities with Clark, arm in arm.
Clark is a very humble farm boy at heart who constantly assures you he doesn’t need all your precious gifts, though they are much appreciated. Like that one time you gifted him his first shiny, silver Rolex. He almost fell over when you revealed the hefty price.
“Oh, honey, I can’t accept this! I love it, but that’s so many zeros! How will I pay you back?” He looked up at you with those sweet eyes.
You rolled your eyes and gave him a soft peck. “Ugh, you’re adorable. You don’t repay me, sweetie, you just take whatever I buy you because you deserve it, okay? Let me take care of you.” You cupped his cheek, then slid a hand up to his curls.
Clark melted in your touch. “But I don’t think I could get you anything better than this…” he pouted as he held the box.
“Shh, all I need is this wonderful man in front of me to make me happy. You’re the best gift, Clark. You’re enough for me.”
His heart thumped at that, and he pulled you in for a deep kiss.
Now you don a black halter dress that displays some enticing cleavage, with a lush, white fur shawl over your arms. Topped off with a pair of black shades, of course. Pearl necklace glimmering under the candescent ceiling lights.
Every now and then, you enjoy looking like your net worth during your shopping sprees, even if it’s unnecessary. The countless bags your guards carry behind you each time as you two walk through the place speak for themselves.
Clark is wearing his usual getup: a white button-up paired with black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up, and his beefy biceps are on display for you.
“Let’s get you another watch!” Clark just lets himself be pulled towards the luxury jeweler. Smiling at your enthusiasm.
The jeweler happily welcomes you two in and beckons you over with a “come, come, come!” to the glass counter. He pulls out a tray of the finest watches at hand, and you watch Clark’s eyes grow wide. ‘Ugh, so cute,’ you thought.
You inch closer to the tray and eye the display before turning to Clark. “Which one do you like more, baby?”
“Um…um,” he mumbles in deep thought. Clark honestly thinks they all look divine. Although the brown leather one does grab his attention a bit more than the others. Oh, and so does the navy blue. And the black leather one paired with its intricate clock design. Goodness, it’s probably an unjustifiable price, even for a designer brand like this one.
You can see the cogs turning in his head, and let another moment pass before going for a simple solution, well, your idea of a simple solution.
You lean onto the counter and pull your shades down to look the jeweler in the eye, “you know what? I’ll take them all.” Clark’s brows furrow as he panics.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” The jeweler gives you a warm smile.
“Honey, those are a lot of watches!”
“And my baby deserves each and every one!” You cup his face and cover his face in kisses. Clark wraps his arms around you in defeat, taking in your rich affection.
From there, you hit up all kinds of stores, including the comic book store, so Clark could nerd out all he wants.
Last stop is the tuxedo boutique. You love, love, love getting Clark fitted for suits. A man can never have too many suits.
You walk in, and a trusted worker is already at your beck and call.
“Bring this year’s collection, for my husband, stat. We’ll be by the fitting rooms.” The employee curtly nods before speeding off.
Clark swallows at your stern tone and the power you command without saying much. He finds it to be the hottest thing about you, honestly. Gosh, and the way you always proudly claim him, referring to him as your “husband”. It makes him feel so giddy inside.
Clark watches you, admiring how ravishing you look in that dress. His eyes fall to your peaking breasts, wanting nothing more than to stuff his face in them while you tell him how good he is.
He slightly shakes his head, as if shaking the indecent thought away. He can’t get hard right now; he’s in public, all kinds of eyes on him.
“Come on,” you grab his hand and pull him towards the back. Oh, this was a constant thing in your marriage. You're pulling him everywhere, and he's happily obliging. His favorite navigation system. His lovely wife as his guide.
You take your usual seat on the comforting ottoman and watch as Clark tries on every suit. Making you laugh as he awkwardly models for you, as always. He just can’t take himself too seriously.
“Mhm, I like this color. That navy blue looks good on you, sweetie. Give me a spin.” You lean back on your arms and take in the view.
Clark’s cheeks turn rosy pink, but he does slow 360 for you nonetheless. “Thank you, honey.” He looks down sheepishly as the worker takes his measurements.
“That’s my handsome husband,” you say as you stand up to get a closer look at the fabric.
He really doesn’t want you coming any closer. He already has to keep his composure in front of this lady, and you look the way you do today. So good, so breathtakingly good. And you’ve been complimenting and spoiling him all evening, my gosh.
Clark gets another whiff of your perfume, Coco Chanel No. 5 to be exact, and it almost sends him off the edge. Your fingers brush against his chest and stomach, maybe on purpose, before you reach for the material.
You tug on the suit jacket a bit and share your thoughts with the worker, Angela, as he tries his hardest to act unfazed by your touch. Clark was never good at acting.
“Sorry, Angela, dear, could you please give us a minute?” She nods and quickly leaves.
Once again, it was only you and Clark, who looked as sexy as ever in his new suit. You’re both quiet. He’s starts get nervous, curious as to why you sent her away. You watch his worried expression in amusement.
“This needy, hmm? You can’t even wait until we’re in the car.”
He swallows hard as your soft, velvety cadence sends shivers down his spine. He doesn’t respond, too ashamed of his growing bulge.
You cup his erection, and he jerks a little, “answer me, Clark. Are you so impatient that you don’t even have the decency to wait until we leave this place?”
He rapidly shakes his head before you hook a finger underneath his chin.
“Use your words, love.”
“I-I’m having trouble controlling myself.” He explains, all flustered.
“Well, I can see that.” You smirk and feel him up even more. A small whimper escapes from his lips, spurring you further on. “Poor Angela is just trying to fit you for a suit, and instead of standing here like a good boy, all you can do is think with your dick?” You purr.
“Please, honey, all I can think about is you,” he whines as you grip him tighter.
“Fitting room now.” One command and like an obedient dog, he follows without hesitation.
When you push past the curtains, Clark is already on his knees. Ready to beg for your forgiveness, the best way he knows how.
You look down at him and scoff as you poke his knee with your heel. “Get up, nobody told you to get on your knees like that.”
And he’s up again, but unsure of what to do.
You shrug your shawl off before lightly pushing him against the wall, with your hand on his chest. Without ever breaking eye contact, you slide your hand down as you lower yourself before him, before his fat bulge.
“Now, you’re gonna stand here while I suck your pretty little cock without making a sound, or else you’ll embarrass both of us, especially yourself. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.” He manages to say when you unbuckle his new Louis V belt, and pull off his pants and tightie whities down in one go, freeing his aching cock from its previous confines.
It’s so big, heavy, and uncut in your grip. Clark inhales when you rub his shaft while looking up at him with those dark eyes. You push the foreskin back, the sudden motion revealing the head of his cock already leaking with pre-cum.
“Oh, gosh…” he moans as you teasingly lick and kiss his wet slit. “My goodness…” You lick a dangerously slow stripe up his length, and he faintly whimpers again. Music to your ears.
“Not so loud, baby,” smooch, “the customers can,” smooch, “hear you,” another smooch on his serious girth.
“R-right, I’m sorry, mommy, I’ll be qui—oh, my gosh!” He shudders as you wrap your plush lips around him. You take him further into your warm mouth and suck him with every intention of making him break. It was fun to watch him trying his hardest to contain himself. Him biting his lips to suppress his moans, his furrowed brows, and red face in utter ecstasy as you suck him dry.
Clark’s shaking hand hovers over your head, hesitant. He gently places his hand on your hair for stability, and it moves as you bob your head even more, swirling your tongue over his girth.
"Mommy, I-I don't think I'm gonna last..." He pants. You ignore him and go down further, fully deep throating his fat cock. With your free hand, you fondle his balls, and Clark can't help but let out a loud, pitchy moan.
He cups his mouth instantly, scared that he might have alerted someone. The sensations are too much for him. Heck, even the sinful, wet sounds of you slobbing on his dick are driving him mad. He's overwhelmed, and his whimpers keep getting louder. Clark prays for your sake, and his, that nobody has noticed anything yet.
But when you squeeze his balls tighter and hollow your cheeks, it's the last straw. Clark tenses as he spills his hot, white, creamy load into your mouth. And it's heavy, almost non-stop. He's embarrassed and mumbles all kinds of nonsense about how much he loves you and how sorry he is. He has no idea why he produces so much of it; maybe it's a Kryptonian thing.
You don't mind, though, and try to swallow as much as you can before it inevitably flows out of your mouth.
You slowly slide your head back as he catches his breath. There are drips of cum on the corners of your lips, and you chuckle when you feel them. There's some on your dress too. Oh well, you can take it to the cleaners. You lick your lips, and Clark has to avert his eyes, or else he'll be hard in no time. The power you have over him is ridiculous.
"Haven't even bought the suit and I already have to get it dry-cleaned." You joke as you shake your head, nodding at the cum stain on his pants.
"I'm sorry, hon', y'know I can't control it." He gives you that pathetic, sorry look as he helps you up.
You wave him off, "sweetheart, you could cover me in all your cum, and I wouldn't mind."
"Oh, gosh, please don't say things like that!" he whines. You just giggle and help him with his pants.
Out of nowhere, you hear fast heel-clacking near the fitting rooms.
warnings: sexual explicit content, penetration (f receiving), implicit oral (f receiving), implicit fingering (f receiving), clark has a huge dih, f!reader, size kink, mention of bellybulge, praising.
author's note: i promise i'm not always horny lmaoooo.
more of big dick!clark
Clark hadn't realized how big he was. He'd been told so, several times.
Of course, as a teenager, after playing soccer, he'd go to the locker room to change, and some of his teammates would stare at him, their mouths agape. He'd blush in embarrassment and always try to cover himself or hide in the corner of the shower so no one would see him.
—Dude, that's…— his old best friend from high school said, looking at his enormous member sliding down his thigh. There weren't even words to describe it.
Finding condoms his size was a pain and a headache. They were all too small, the latex cut off his circulation, and his balls turned blue from the lack of blood. He tried every possible position, but he simply wouldn't fit or would break at the slightest movement.
Clark knew he was big, but hadn't actually assimilated it.
It wasn't until he met you.
He filled the entire bed with just his body.
But he got a reality check during your first time, when he pulled his cock out of his boxers and it poked up to your belly. You gasped in surprise, your eyes bulging.
That wasn't normal; it was out of this world. Monstrous; with a thick, prominent vein surrounding the shaft, pumping with excitement, and the red tip oozing precum.
—Clark…
—It's okay, baby, don't worry, I'll make it fit, I promise— he murmured rubbing your clit furiously. He spent the next half hour just preparing you because you never seemed elastic enough. He was afraid of breaking you in half and hurting you.
—That's enough, Clark, just put it in, please— you begged, overstimulated. He used everything he had: mouth, fingers, both at once...
But when he started to sink in, all his work fell apart. You gripped the sheets with white knuckles, your mouth open in an 'o' shape. His name left your lips like a plea, begging for some mercy. But that's just how he was.
—Oh my God— you moaned as he slowly entered your wet pussy. Your soft walls contracted around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, completely overwhelmed.
—If you keep squeezing me like that, I'm going to cum, love— he warned, and he wasn't even halfway there.
He lifted your legs over his shoulders, achieving a better angle.
—That's it, that's it, that's it...
By the time he bottomed out, your eyes had rolled to the back of your head and his balls bounced against your inner thigh.
It stung, tears pricked your eyes. But eventually it turned to pleasure, a pleasure so overwhelming it made you tremble against his body.
Clark was ecstatic; he'd never managed to bury himself completely inside you. There was a bulge in your belly he kept his eyes on, unable to move.
—What a small pussy, my god, you're taking me so well, my love— he waited, letting you get used to his size. But you didn't think that would ever be possible.
—It's too much— you blurted, feeling outrageously full. He kissed your forehead.
—I know, let me reward you.
He held you, wrapping your arms around his biceps and began to thrust slowly and painfully. Thrust after thrust left you disoriented. Your vision grew blurrier and your moaning grew louder. Although more than moans, they were whimpers of pleasure.
It was the best fuck you'd ever had.
But without a doubt, the final reality check came when he saw you limping into the Daily Planet. Everyone in the office seemed worried about you, and you had to lie. But with every excuse, your eyes were fixed on Clark across the room, watching you with a satisfied smile.
note ʚɞ : i watched bnd and im suddenly obsessed again. i love u tom holland i love u spiderman i love u nishimura riki let’s combine them all into one plz n thanks xo. also my fav riki editor @/fishimurariki on tt made a riki x spiderman edit so thats def inspo! plz go check them out i love their edits oml
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notes: this is just a compiled of my headcanons, mostly before nwh! also, english ISN'T my first language and i used the translator sometimes in here, sorry for any mistake.
content: fluff domestic, first times, implict sexual content, just cutie first time girlfriend-boyfriend things.
you and peter met at the decatlon, when his school won over yours. he came to talk to you right after, and found out that you and him had pretty much the same taste in everything. since then, they have become inseparable; even though you studied far away, he always managed to visit you and spend time with you.
you started developing feelings for him, of course, but for a long time, you were afraid that he wouldn't reciprocate and would ruin your friendship with him. he never caught your moves, and that discouraged you a lot, until the day he invited you to dinner and gave you a beautiful necklace that you never took off.
you two secretly started dating, but never went beyond holding hands; he's always very busy with his internship at Stark, and you respect that. but you needed him too. sure, you've already shared a kiss here and there, but being alone for too long seems worse when you see him.
it didn't take long for you to find out what he was really doing at Stark, and he didn't help himself. coincidentally, spider-man saved you from a robbery and accidentally called you by your name. you were shocked, but that explained a lot. slowly, you lifted his mask up to his nose and kissed him, as if you were starving.
you were still getting used to the idea that your boyfriend did dangerous things and could die at any moment, but it was cool to hitch a ride on the web. he took you to all the coolest places and gave you all sorts of flowers. the kisses started to get longer and more intense, his hands roaming all over your body, eliciting soft moans and heavy gasps.
after a year together, you were already close to may, and even helped her in the kitchen. you spent your nights in peter's bed, waiting for him to come back from his cool job. you liked cuddling and talking to him, but you liked making out with him even more.
the make out sessions turned into something more intimate, without clothes, when you took the initiative, even though you were inexperienced too. it was good, very good, great. he was as careful as possible, and you laughed a little when he came inexplicably quickly, but he made up for it later.
you grumbled with rising annoyance as you flipped over to your side, pillow squeezed on top of your head to block out the noise that bled through the thin new york dry wall. sounds of moans and grunts penetrating your ears in the most obnoxious way possible.
beside you, your telephone buzzed, blinking away the sleep—you opened the notification and instantly smiled. squinting at the message as blue light pierced your vision, recognizing the contact name immediately.
PP <3
just got back from patrol, wanna come over?
too lazy to type out your own response, you hearted the message and got up from your thin mattress with a groggy demeanor. shirt too large for your own good, nearly stopped below your knees, with pants dragging along the floor. the dollar rack at the thrift never disappointed you.
forcing your feet into your dingy uggs, you made your way out your apartment door and headed to the elevator. passing by, you heard the noise that was keeping you up all night get more earsplitting—high octave of a woman’s whines filled with pleasure and a man’s nonchalant groans.
groaning out in response, you placed both hands over your ears and stumbled into the elevator. wanting to get away from that displeasure so you can peacefully sleep in your boyfriend’s arms, trying to speed up the process by repeatedly pressing the button to the top floor.
unsurprisingly, it took the same amount of time—even feeling longer as you listened to the creaks of the machine moving up a couple floors. you were ripped from your zoned out state once you heard the familiar ding and sliding doors open to reveal the entrance to the attic floor. where peter had recently moved into to make his spidey ordeal more ‘secretive’.
it was like he was watching from his meticulously placed cameras, opening the door to let you grudgingly trek on inside. he watched in amusement as you shot him a deadpan expression and plopped down on his bed with a heaviness.
“neighbors at it again, huh?”
“i want to kill them.” your words being muffled by the pillow that your head dug into. peter chuckled, already out of his suit and sporting new bruises.
“that’s not very spider-girl of you.” at his retort, you groaned. lifting your head off the comfort that almost let you fall into a deep sleep.
“well maybe if they referred to me as a woman, instead of a girl—then maybe i’ll care.” rolling your eyes, you got up from your position and rested your chin on his stomach, wrapping your arms around his lower back as he neared. your body softened the tension as you stared into his brown doe eyes, you smiled with exhaustion. “thank you for doing patrol tonight, though.”
“of course, anything for you. spiders gotta stick together, baby,” he matched your expression, bringing a hand to caress the back of your head. using your superhuman strength, you pulled him into your arms onto the mattress that desperately needed to be replaced.
you were sure you surprised him with the strangled gasp that left his mouth, bringing your legs to wrap around his and gripping him tight—you hummed, eyes now closed. “alright, sleep time now. love you.”
peter shook his head, yet no complaint left him as he nestled into your embrace. “i love you.”
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౨ৎ 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 who is so, so vanilla he has no idea that missionary isn't the only position you can fuck a woman in—and you can throw out the dirty and degenerate kinks; he hasn't even heard of them. that is, until you, of course.
౨ৎ 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 who suffers the most embarrassing episode of premature ejaculation while fucking you in doggy. as inexperienced as he is, he isn't some three-pump chump—no, seriously, he isn't; he actually considers himself above average in that regard.
that's why it was so mortifying for him when he barely got three strokes in before he felt it. sharp, fast, nearly dizzying—and worst of all: completely uncontrollable.
your pussy walls just felt so good in the position, unbelievably tight and wet and warm. the swell of your hips molded perfectly inside his large palms, your ass flushed and soft when it met his pelvis—and when peter bottomed out inside you the final time, you made the most delicious, pornagraphic mewl of his name, as if he'd just hit a really sensitive spot inside you.
his throat felt so tight that he couldn't even warn you—the only tell for you was that his fingers suddenly tightened around your hips and his whole body jerked, before he pulled out only to slam himself back in with a string of garbled, shocked moans.
cum spurted from his tip so violently that he could feel it, and in his startlement peter couldn't even pull out like his brain screamed at him to do; and maybe he was a little selfish in the way he kept himself stuffed inside your warm, slick cunt, eyes rolling back each time your gummy walls fluttered in response to the twitches of his cock. it just felt so fucking good that he couldn't help it.
though he did apologize profusely after in his rather sobering post-nut clarity. you didn't mind, it was pretty hot anyway.
౨ৎ 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 who eats with lots of enthusiasm, but little technique; his tongue is thick and hot, but he tends to put it in the wrong places... namely, he's more concentrated on sliding it through your folds rather than focusing it on your clit.
you aren't too shy to guide him, though.
"mmm, pete, a little higher—ah! oh, fuck, that's it, right there. mhmm, keep going, swirl your tongue a little—that's so good."
smart, attentive boy he is, it doesn't take peter long to catch on. he's quick to find the right pressure and pace that makes your toes curl, keeping his tongue firm on your clit like you'd instructed. and gods, does he start to eat so fucking good.
so good that your hips start to move subconsciously, slopping up his lips and chin with the slick he's lapping out of you. you feel more than hear the moans he's producing, a testament of just how much it turns him on to taste you and please you, and the way he starts to rut desperately into your mattress doesn't go unnoticed either.
it pushes you to the edge much faster than you ever expected.
"oh, shit—hah, peeeete, keep going, 'm s'close!" you mewl, fingers threading through his sweat-dampened hair, holding him in place and drawing something akin to a whine from his throat. his eyes flutter closed and he refocuses his efforts, swiping at your clit until your hands fist and you spasm, hips twitching in time with the pulsing of your throbbing clit.
even though his jaw aches from making you cum, he begs to eat you out again and again and again.
a/n: chat do we wanna see more himbo!peter?... i wanna see more himbo!peter...
warnings: little angst, dry humping, first time (almost).
you and peter have never done anything more than a few kisses and some heavy petting, but after five years without seeing him, you need him more than ever. he jumps out your window in that dirty outfit, breathless and tearful. Worried, you calm him down and sit him on your bed. you slowly remove your mask, only to see your boyfriend's bruised and bleeding face. you try not to panic (on the outside) and rush to get the first aid kit. in your pajamas, you sit on his lap, chattering to distract him, and clean all his wounds. you stare at him for a while, and without saying anything, you kiss him. it's a needy kiss, desperate for both of you. you let out little moans and he gasps, his hands roaming all over your body, grabbing everything he can. your tongues intertwine, and your hips begin to move involuntarily. you can feel his erection beneath his uniform, growing with each rub. your pussy, covered by the thin fabric of your pajamas, is already transparent, throbbing around nothing. "a-ah... I-I'm going to..." he says it, and you start practically riding him, his hands gripping your breasts, which are loose in your pajamas, burying his face in your neck. he lets out a hoarse groan as he comes from the friction, and you tremble in his lap.
you can't stand him; he's arrogant, ignorant... and unnecessarily strong.
you're a trained spy, meant to follow him, but he notices and catches you, of course. he lifts you up, choking you with one hand, but you don't back down and don't say a word. he refuses to fight you because he doesn't hurt women, even though you wouldn't have any problem giving him a beating. the problem is that the encounters become more frequent because you haven't given up on your goal, and he admires your persistence.
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Summary ⟅ When it comes time for you to finally admit your feelings for Peter, you meet a version of him you've never seen before.
Requested: yes
Peter Parker x Reader / ⟣ SMUT / 3.6k ⟢
Warnings: BND peter, no spoilers that aren't in the trailer, light angst if you squint, virgin!peter (is this canon...?), peter is SENSITIVE, some yearning, grinding, dry humping (everyone cheered), dirty talk, peter is losing control, p in v, dacryphilia, nipple sucking, peter cums A LOT, creampie, slight praise, he whines and whimpers a bunch, he overstimulates himself, kinda sub space, I think that's it?
Lily's note — 🪷 well this is clearly not my niche but i got that request and needy peter? you don't have to ask me twice. IF YOU ENJOY PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT LETTING ME KNOW :D
It had taken you a while to break through to Peter. But ever since you bumped into him that first day of moving into your new apartment, there was something about his eyes—something that eerily reflected the pain you'd felt through the past years—that made you want to know him.
He was extremely hesitant at first, understandably so given what you knew now about the whole spiderman and everyone forgetting him thing, but after getting to know you and hearing about the barrage of troubles the universe had thrusted your way, he figured if there was anyone he could trust, it was you.
A year later, not much had changed in your lives. You were still two struggling adults in your twenties just trying to get by on the day-to-day, except now, at least you had each other to cope. At least you were able to find some reprieve and light, though the pain from your lives remained a low hum in the background.
You weren't exactly sure when it began happening—maybe a few months in—but you noticed it randomly one day. Your heart started beating faster around him. Then, he began taking up extra space in your mind until eventually, the thoughts became too loud to ignore.
You chalked the feelings up to all the trauma bonding and hours you’d spent together trying to shut out and disappear from the real world. You tried to ignore the rush of joy you felt when he laughed, or the dizziness of your head whenever you caught a glimpse of him changing out of his suit, until you were drowning in a pool of affection that you weren't sure you could surface from.
There’d been a few times the confession almost slipped from your tongue. The intimate nights sitting out on the fire escape with food and the sound of the city in the distance, or the times where he sat a little too close to you on the couch during movie nights.
But then he’d sigh, his gaze going foggy as he zoned out on some far off point, murmuring, “MJ would have hated this movie,” or “Ned used to love this burger place.”
And just like that the words would die on your tongue. How could you ever compete with the monument of love he carried for his past relationships? No, it was easier to suppress the feelings and toss them atop the mountain of other struggles you carried. You’d learn to manage with the extra weight simple because the alternative—a life absent of his presence—wasn’t something you could fathom.
Then things started changing.
First, he was suddenly busy on your sacred days off, days you would always spend together exploring new restaurants and coffee shops around the city. Then, he started turning you away on his patrol nights, nights where you’d kept him company and even helped patch up the nastier cuts he couldn't reach. Excuse after excuse came and the fear that he’d figured out your feelings twisted your gut with nerves.
It didn't take long for you to come to the conclusion that he was building a wall to preserve the sanctity of his memory with MJ. There could be no other reason for the sudden distance. You tried convincing yourself it was for the best. The perfect solution to help you cope with losing him, because if it wasn’t now, it would be later.
You lasted exactly three days. Three days of radio silence was what it took for you to realize that no, you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stay away from him. Maybe it was the return to a forgotten loneliness, a deep, screaming void, that had you knocking on his door frantically that night, your fist nearly pounding through the paint-chipped wood.
The door cracked open an inch and before he could get the opportunity to reject you, you pushed your way through, bursting into his apartment with a temper he’d never seen.
“Hey, stranger,” you said with a hint of venom in your voice. You turned to face him, your eyes widening slightly at the sight of his pale, flushed skin, a fine sheen of sweat settled on his temples. His eyes looked unusually dark; you blinked your own a few times to clear them and make sure you weren’t seeing something that wasn’t there.
He said your name through the rasp of his shaky voice. “I-I’m sorry, I’m busy right now… you should go.”
“Like hell I should,” you scoffed, any anxious thoughts replaced by an unwavering surge of protectiveness. “Is this why you’ve been ghosting me? Are you sick or something?”
His face suddenly scrunched up, his hand raising to hold his head as he whimpered in pain. “I’m n-not ghosting you… I just…”
You took a step closer to him, freezing when he flinched back and held out a hand to stop you. Your heart fell to your stomach as you watched his eyes darken further. “Pete, I don’t know what’s going on but, please, let me help you… Stop pushing me away.”
You attempted another careful step forward until he pushed himself back against the wall.
“S-stop, stop! Please just… don’t come closer.”
You swallowed down the thick lump in your throat that had risen, clenching your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You waited patiently for him to speak, scared that the next words that left him were going to be the ones to shatter your world.
“I,” he paused, breathing in a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t… trust myself to be around you right now.”
Your brows pressed together in confusion. “Why not?”
His eyes bore into the ground as he tried to gather his thoughts over the multitude of senses that surged the moment you approached his door, but everything was fuzzy and melted together until all he could feel was you. Your presence, and it was driving him crazy.
“My systems are detecting an abnormally high heart rate, Peter,” Evie’s robotic voice rang out. “System overload is approaching.”
“Not now, Evie,” Peter choked out.
You shook your head in disbelief. “You can trust me, Peter. Please. Haven’t I proven that to you? After everything?”
“I-It’s not that—”
“Then what?” You approached him despite his protests, not stopping until you were a step away from touching.
His brain nearly short-circuited, any lasting restraint vanishing as he allowed you to fully flood his senses. The shampoo you used this morning, the perfume you’d applied a few hours ago, the fast thump thump of your heart, a beautiful rhythm that drowned out all rational thought to disarm him completely.
“Something is happening to me,” he gasped, the words tearing from his chest. “My arachnid DNA is… it’s evolving. Mutating. Everything is turned up to ten thousand a-and my impulses—” he cut himself off, slamming his head back against the door hard enough to make it rattle on its hinges.
You shook your head, your hands reaching for him again. “If you’re scared you’ll hurt me, you won’t—”
“No!” he spat out desperately. “It’s not that I—I c-can’t—” He was practically shaking now, violent tremors racking his body.
Your heart ached as you watched him. Unable to control yourself, you lifted your hands to cup his flushed cheeks, his skin burning under your palms. “Peter,” you whispered softly, your voice reaching him over the storm raging within.
He stared at you, his pupils dilated so wide, only a thin ring of the soft brown you loved so much was present. Your lips parted with a pant at the hunger displayed in them as you got lost in their depths, a raw need you’d never seen before. “Woah…”
A low, tormented whimper escaped him when your thumbs rubbed along his skin, the sound shooting straight to pool low in your stomach, spreading a heat you scolded yourself for internally. Now was not the time.
“I can’t think straight when you’re near,” he confessed through a strained voice. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I can’t act normal. I can’t pretend like I usually do… not when all I want to do is—”
He groaned, tipping his head back against the door, a final sliver of restrain returning before he crossed the line.
“What, Peter?” you pressed, leaning closer to eliminate the last inch of space between your bodies, your chests brushing. You looked at him with such care, your gaze so gentle and understanding and comforting. “What do you want to do?”
In the split second before he moved you were able to catch the black swallowing the last fragment of brown, followed quickly by the entirety of the whites of his eyes. Then his lips were on yours.
It was all consuming as his mouth moved over yours, desperately kissing as if you were the very air that filled his lungs and it was being threatened away from him.
His hands dug into your sides, fisting your skin to pull you flush against his body until you could feel the taught muscle hidden beneath his shirt. You gasped into his mouth when he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist, moaning when he took the opportunity to slide his tongue along yours.
He fell back onto the couch behind him, keeping you close as he continued to devour your lips, whimpering when your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging to pull him back so you could take a breath.
He fought against your grip, his eyes opening to lock onto yours when you pulled harder. Your chest heaved as you stared into the black pools with awe.
“I-I’m sorry,” he managed to say through clenched teeth, barely suppressing the desire to ravage you whole. “I tried to hide my feelings but it's harder like this.”
The smile that graced your lips had his head spinning all over again, his eyes burning as they turned glassy.
“Feelings?” you mumbled, leaning down to ghost your lips over his, the heat in your belly spreading further when he tried to chase them. You curve into him just enough to feel something poking you as he let out another strangled gasp. “You like me, Peter?”
A tear slips down his cheek when you say his name, the sound falling so beautifully from your lips, making his cock pulse harder in his sweatpants. The grip he has on you tightens, subconsciously pressing you down over his throbbing boner.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to ruin what we have, I just… can’t lose you, too.”
Your heart clenches when his voice cracks with agony. You want to scream at him and the world the depths of your feelings for him, how he could never lose you and how the same fear had been tormenting you for weeks. But words felt small, too insufficient. So you showed him by capturing his lips with yours once more.
He met them with relief, his arms wrapping fully around your torso to cage you against him in an attempt to get as close to fusing your bodies together as possible. You arched into him, fully dragging your core against his cock, the friction a sweet torture that had his mouth falling open in a broken moan.
“Please,” he gasped against your cheek.
You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your lips latching onto the sensitive skin as you rocked your hips faster. You could feel every inch of his cock pressing against your heat, your aching clit pulsating in your soaked panties. His grip on you turned bruising, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he guided your movements to match how much he needed you.
“So g-good… you feel so—mngh—” he whined.
Just then a sharp blaring came from the other side of the room, a sound you recognized as his police scanner. You stilled your movements and removed your head from his neck. Before you could say anything, Peter’s arm flung out. A web whipped through the air and a second later it connected with the phone, striking it hard enough for a loud crack to sound out, silencing the alarm.
His black eyes shot back to find your surprised ones. He’d never, ever, ignored the call. But tonight he didn’t care. Tonight, all he wanted was you.
You could practically see the possession in his eyes as he stood up, holding you against him. Seconds later, your back met the soft mattress of his bed as he laid you down, quickly pressing himself back between your legs, his mouth finding your neck, kissing and nipping a trail of fire. Your mind, however, was still trying to comprehend what you’d just seen.
He intertwined his fingers with yours, pinning your hands beside your head, his hips rutting shamelessly into you with a pressure that stole your breath. You turned to stare at his wrist, bare of the bulky web shooters.
“Peter,” you panted, arching into his thrust. “How did you… the web?”
His lips trailed up your cheek, messily kissing over your lips with a desperate fervor.
“Arachnid DNA,” is all he mumbled.
“O-Oh.. cool,” you managed to say before he swallowed the word with his tongue.
He parted to sit back on his heels, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his sweat slicked torso. Your mouth went dry when he pulled down his sweats and underwear in one go, kicking them off the rest of the way.
Your gaze dropped, a heady moan slipping at the sight of his thick cock flushed a deep red as it pulsed against his stomach, streams of precum dripping down the sides.
He climbed back over you, pressing his cock into your clothed heat to resume his rutting, panting little sounds of pleasure into your ear.
“Mnmh—ah! I can—fuck… I can feel how warm you are, can smell you." His hands slipped beneath your shirt, running up until they grazed the soft skin of your breasts.
Something new in him snapped when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. He started snapping his hips harder into you until your body was climbing up the bed. “I’m sorry—oh god… fuck, I’m so sorry—I can't stop—”
“It’s okay, Peter.”
“No,” he pleaded, his lips brushing your throat. “I can’t hold back anymore. Fuck—I need you to tell me—”
“I’m here for you, Peter,” you whispered, cupping his face to force his dazed eyes back to yours. His lids were blotchy with tears, his lips red and kiss-swollen. You could see the struggle in them, the fight against his depraved thoughts to make sure you were okay with this. It only made you want him more. “Use me.”
Any remaining tension in his face melted. His brows relaxed, the cute crinkles by his eyes smoothing over at your permission.
He shoved your shirt over your head, moaning at the sight of your chest, your nipples peaked and begging for his touch. He captured one in his mouth, laving it with his tongue before sucking hard. His other hand rolled the other between his fingers, flicking and pinching the sensitive bud, drawing out high pitched cries from your lips.
“Mmm, so pretty, taste so sweet.”
His free hand fumbled with your pants in an attempt to push them down, a frustrated, almost animalistic groan escaping him when they caught on your hips. He gave a small tug and tore the fabric away from your body, discarding it without a second thought.
“Hey!” you yelped, the protest dying when he pressed the hot head of his cock through your sodden folds, rubbing it through the slick mess.
The slick sounds of your wet heat were enough to make his consciousness slip as he failed to suppress a sob.
He could hear every microscopic hitch of your breath in his heightened ears, every pulse at your clit against his shaft a divine torment, the rush of your blood beneath your skin. You watched, enamored, as his eyes fluttered weakly when his tip caught at your hole, and then he was pushing in.
“O-Oh fuu—” his eyes fluttered as your tight cunt clenched around the invasion.
“I’m sorry, so sorry—so tight, fuck, ‘M sorry—” he apologized in a continuous stream as he sank in, forcing himself deeper until he was fully bottomed out. Tears slipped from his eyes, cascading down his flushed cheeks, your walls clamping down to draw out more small cries from him, basking in the sight.
You sucked in a sharp breath at the stretch. It had been a while for you and Peter was so thick. You could feel every vein, every ridge of his cock dragging against your velvety walls as his hips met yours.
Before you could fully adjust and let the sting subside, he was pulling out and driving back into you with a punctured breath, stealing the air from your lungs. You dug your nails into the muscles of his back, biting your lip to suppress a yelp as he set a brutal pace, each thrust burying him just as deep.
The head of his cock kissed your cervix with an overwhelming, euphoric pressure.
“Cunt feels so fucking good, squeezing me so tight.”
The pain began to fade, replaced by a pleasure so sharp it bordered on agony. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, locking your ankles, pushing him deeper inside you. “'M so full, Peter.”
He collapsed onto you, his lips leaving wet, sloppy kisses wherever he could reach as he fucked you mercilessly, his cock pistoning in and out of you.
The pressure in your belly snuck up on you, building and coiling tight like a live wire trapped beneath your skin.
“P-Peter—!” you cried out, your cunt fluttering around his cock. You bowed off the bed, your back arching as he fucked the orgasm out of you, wave after wave of white-hot ecstasy flowing through your nerves.
The foreign scent of your cum invaded his senses, something he could only describe as overwhelmingly you and all-consuming, causing his eyes to screw shut with a sob.
The violent constrictions of your walls around his cock only edged him on further. He fucked you through your climax with ragged, desperate bucks, his movements dissolving into a frenzy, the filthy sounds of wet skin slapping together filling the room.
You latched onto his wrists beside your head, feeling an intense heat radiating from the hypersensitive skin over his organic webbing. Before you were even aware of your actions, your head was turning, your lips pressing a soft kiss to his wrist.
Words were beyond him as your touch reduced him to incoherent, whimpering babbles. “Feels… s’good—mphm. C-Can’t… ‘M yours… all yours—”
His thrusts turned erratic, his gut tightening as he rested his forehead on your chest, nuzzling into your skin in an attempt to sink into you, to become one.
"It h- it hurts—can't stop... 'M sorry—"
You could feel his cock swelling inside you, his thrust faltering to shallow, uncoordinated thrusts. A sob wretched from him, wanton and broken, hot tears spilling from his clenched eyes, dripping onto your skin.
"Come for me, Peter."
He sank all the way in one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go as his body tensed.
Then his mind blanked.
His vision went black, speckled with stars. With a guttural cry, he came, his release a torrent, spilling deep into your cunt in thick, hot pulsing waves. He whined into your chest, his body spasming through each powerful jet.
You panted through each hard twitch of his cock, overwhelmed with the sheer volume of cum as he continued to fill you, the sensation so intense you struggled to catch your breath. It just kept going as he shook above you, his cum leaking out around the base of his cock still stuffed deep inside you.
He stayed there as your cunt milked every drop, creating a home for himself, content with living inside you for as long as you'd let him.
You carded a hand through his hair as tremors continued to wrack his oversensitive body. “Shh, you’re okay,” you whispered into his ear, your voice hoarse. “You did so good.”
He went boneless above you, a dead, spent weight. Eventually, his softened cock slipped from your used cunt, followed by a stream of his release dripping down to soak the sheets as you whimpered through it all.
A few moments later, the silence in the room was broken by Evie’s voice. “Heart rate regulated. Vitals have returned to baseline levels.”
It seemed to bring Peter back to earth. He lifted his head from your chest with a groggy moan, blinking blearily down at you. His eyes were back to their normal, warm brown, the black reduced to his pupils, though still glazed with wonder.
You guided him to his back, leaning over to wipe the tears from his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
He sniffled, fresh tears welling in his bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “I didn’t… I didn’t want it to happen like that. I wanted to be… better for you.”
You shushed him gently, kissing his cheek. “We’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he insisted, the vulnerability clear in his tone. “I am.”
You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips. “Then never ignore me like that again.”
He sniffled with a nod, his lips squirking up into that boyish smile that made your heart ache. “Okay.”
“Do you feel better?” you asked, your hands smoothing down his chest.
He nodded, a dark blush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. “I didn’t know I could feel that good,” he admitted with awe.
“Has it been a while for you, too?”
He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking away for a second before meeting yours again anxiously. ‘I’ve never, um…” he took a shaky, deep breath. “That was my uh, first time.”
Your hands froze on his chest. “What?”
He winced. “I told you I couldn’t control myself.”
You laughed at the surprising confession, leaning down to brush your nose against his. “Well, at least it was memorable.”
He smiled, all shy and genuine and so Peter-like, you couldn’t resist kissing him, tender and slow. Your hand continued rubbing, your thumb brushing over a nipple, circling it to a peak when he whimpered, his whole body jolting back away at your touch.
“Tsk, so sensitive.” Your hand trailed lower, grazing over the dips of muscle to rest just above where his cock was stirring back to life. “So how easy is it for that side of you to come out?”
His breath caught as your finger dug into the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. When you flicked your eyes back up to his, you saw it again.
The inky blackness had started to expand, swallowing the warm brown, once again drawn out by you.
