spiderling ; reader imagines

Favourite thighs || P.P.

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive themes?

~

One of Peter's favorite things about cuddling was feeling the comfort and security in having the person he loves most by his side. It's vulnerable, almost, and raw in a way that isn't animalistic. It's intimate.

One of his favourite things about cuddling with you was that he got to feel his favourite person in the world, right up against his skin. He got to inhale your scent every time, smile to himself, hug you a little tighter, feel you a little closer.

Yeah — he's whipped.

He's currently walking into your room in the compound, long strides with his curls arranged messily. He's casual yet still the prettiest person here — besides you. You'll deny that, though, but Peter believes it with his entire chest.

"Hey, babe- oof." You giggle as he situates himself between your legs. Your knees are bent up as you lay almost in a slanted position.

He smiles, head settling up against your core — your centre. He has his left hand around your ankle, kissing your leg softly while it goes up and down soothingly. He's on his phone in a matter of seconds, as are you, returning your eyes to your screen. He's comfortable — and cheeky. Before you know it, he's taking selfies from in between your legs, pushing your loose tee up a bit, exposing the skin of your abdomen.

You huff, trying not to come off as too flustered. He's sly, though, and kisses the inside of your thigh, nimble fingers warm as they send tingles up your spine.

"Love these thighs." He breathes it out on a video. You're playing with his curls absentmindedly. He's humming against your skin and you can feel it everywhere.

"Peter." You whine, dragging out the syllables of his name. He hums again with a smirk at his name falling from your lips.

"Yes?" He acts innocent. It's his face — everyone thinks he's got no dirt in that mind of his, but you know better. You roll your eyes before dismissing him. His smirk grows wider and he kisses your thighs again, fingers of his left hand running up and down again.

"If these thighs suffocate me, then that's the best way to go."

You nearly choke on air, eyes wide as you whine again. He giggles at your state before reaching a hand up and behind him and tracing the skin of your stomach. You noticeably shiver, and he kisses a thigh again.

"My favourite thighs."

"I'd hope so."

He rolls his eyes at the remark and it's your turn to chuckle. It doesn't last long though, because he's flustering you again, stealing your air as he makes you breathless.

"Are you trying to suffocate me?" You act playfully angry and he laughs again.

"That's your job, missy." He gives your thighs a soft slap and your mouth drops open at his witty response.

"Peter!"

"If you could get paid for that, you'd probably be rich with the money in my will."

"You're like- nineteen. You do not have a will."

He laughs at the accuracy of your statement and so do you. You're trying to cover up how nervous you are — not because of his position or placement, but because he's given you goosebumps all over from his touch.

"But if I die it would be from the suffocation of my favourite thighs."

You exhale, fingers running through his brown strands. He hums and you feel it again. "You're insatiable."

"That's a lie." He smirks again, this time while kissing your thigh again. "These thighs are enough to get me off for weeks."

"You need to drink some holy water."

"But you always say the lord's name-"

A pillow comes head-on in his direction and he laughs, kissing your thigh once again.