Peter Parker x Reader

'Wanna taste?'✶

A/N- All credit goes to the writer spiderispunk on Tumbler

https://www.tumblr.com/spiderispunk/709088511720079360/just-thinking-about-how-peter-would-totally-hump

Pairings ---> Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Kinda Short for a summary. Like 1.2 K words.

Warnings-Smut [18+]. Oral Sex (F!Receiving). Multiple Orgasms. Pussy Drunk!Peter. Praise Kink. Dirty Talk.

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"Fuck, baby," Peter groans from between your legs. He pulls away from your dripping cunt to suck down a lungful of air.

He'd been between your thighs for the better part of forty minutes, licking, kissing, and sucking you all over. His movements teasing at first, the faintest suck of his lips against your clit, a barely-there press of his tongue between your folds. Then frenzied, urged by the hot twist of desire in his gut as he listened to the heady pleas and whimpers that dripped from your lips like saccharine honey.

The first time you came, it was with a choked whimper of Peter's name. The second time, a scream had wrenched its way out of your throat. The third time you nearly blacked out. Now Peter was well on his way to earning a fourth, with no sign of stopping.

He looks absolutely sinful framed by your thighs. Dark curls a mess from your fingers. Cheeks flushed red. Spit and cum cover his swollen lips and chin in a glaze. The heavy-lidded look he gives you is lewd. A wicked grin spread over his face, a quick flash of teeth. Hickory eyes dance with mischief, and the shadow of something darker.

Greed. Maybe even...pride.

If he looked like sin, you looked downright sacrilegious. Fucked out, yet still wanting. Hair a mess, lips parted, eyes wild. Your shirt rucked up over your heaving breasts. Bite marks and bruises covering your skin.

It just made him want to wreck you all over again.

"Look at ya, honey," Peter mumbles, the words slurred. He presses opened-mouthed kisses up and down your inner thigh.

The scrape of his beard against your soft, sensitive skin makes you shudder. "Pete," you whine, your voice equally wrecked.

"Hm?" His grin widens. "Something you want?" His gaze burns into yours.

You nod, and Peter clicks his tongue.

"Use your words, sweetheart."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Want your mouth on me."

Peter raises his eyebrows. "Again? Greedy girl." His voice is infuriatingly smug.

"It's s'good." You bite your bottom lip as Peter bites your thigh. He chases the sting away with gentle swipes of his tongue.

Peter chuckles. "You really know how to stroke a man's ego, baby." He presses a gentle kiss to your sensitive clit. "But, since you asked so nicely..."

Large hands grip your thighs and pull you back to his face. His lips wrap around your clit, tongue flicking as he sucks gently. His eyelids flutter shut at the taste of you. Peter moans and groans, each needy sound he makes muffled by your pussy. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder to open you up more to his mouth.

"You taste so fucking good, baby. Fuck. Could stay like this, with my mouth on you, forever."

Before meeting you, Peter never knew what it was like to really crave something. To want something so badly– all the time– that when you couldn't have it you felt like a piece of you was missing. But then, he got on his knees and buried his face between your pretty thighs for the first time. Now he doesn't know how he ever lived without that before.

He's addicted to you. Simple as that. Fixation pure and raw. To the taste of your cunt. To the way your hips rock and your thighs tremble when you're getting close. The way you sigh and moan when his mouth is on you. The sharp pain of his hair being tugged between your eager fingers. All of it.

He can never get enough of it.

Peter's fingers dig into your thighs, nails biting shallow crescents into the skin. He licks you up and down, savoring the taste of the three prior orgasms. He swears he can taste the beginnings of the impending fourth.

His tongue slides into your entrance, thrusting in and out as if he's trying to bury himself in you however he can. You're gushing on his face, uninhibited. Each slide of his tongue brings a new wave of wetness.

His nose nudges against your clit, and he inhales deeply. God you smell so fucking good.

"Oh shit," you whine. You thread your fingers through his hair, using your grip as leverage to rock your hips up against his mouth. "Don't stop. Fuck, that's it, Peter. God."

Your praise is music to his fucking ears. It makes his cock twitch in his sweatpants. He thrusts his hips, desperate for some relief from the ache that's been building for almost an hour. He groans at the friction, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

It feels so good. No. Hopped up as he is on desire and the warmth of your pussy, it feels like fucking heaven.

He sneaks a hand down past the waistband of his sweatpants to squeeze his cock. Precum beads at the head of it, staining his sweats. Fuck, he could come in his pants, like a damn teenager, just from this. From you.

Lewd noises fill the room. Mingled moans and sighs of pleasure. The frenzied smack of his lips against your pussy. And now, the creak of bed springs as Peter thrusts wantonly into the soft mattress.

You're floating on Cloud 9. Body humming with the tell-tale signs of your orgasm creeping up on you. Whimpers fall from your lips freely, your chest heaves. Your thighs tighten around Peter's head, holding him in place as you chase the high that's floating above you, just a breath away.

"Look at me," Peter pulls away for just a moment. "C'mon, baby. Look. Watch me make you feel good."

It takes all your remaining strength to slide your eyes to his. They're intense. Almost black with lust.

You hold his scorching gaze, let the fire in his eyes burn into your soul, spread through your blood and render your body to ashes.

Peter wraps his lips around your clit once more, head moving side to side, and it's all over. You come with a wail, hips bucking and thrashing. He wraps an arm around your waist and holds you in place, wedged against his lips. Determined to drink down every last drop that you give to him. Wanting to drown in your perfect pussy.

Your back arches off of the bed. Ecstasy shooting through every inch of your body. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, so loudly that you almost don't hear Peter's panting as he himself comes undone.

But you do. Amidst the stilted exhales, you hear the quiet mumbling of your name.

Peter's hips rock faster. So close to the glorious edge he can feel the tingling in his lower stomach. His shoulders flex under his shirt, biceps curling, and then his whole body tenses. Peter lets out a strangled cry. And then he comes. Hard. Like really, earth shatteringly, hard. His entire world flips upside down with the intensity of it.

Five minutes pass before he's able to string together a coherent thought, and when he finally can, his first thought is of you.

"Hey, baby," he whispers, pillowing his head on your thigh. "You okay?"

"Uh huh." More than okay. "Fucked out and tired, but okay. C'mere."

He forces his jellied limbs to move, and crawls so he's resting on top of you. You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip, playing with the evidence of your arousal.

A grin spreads over your face. "You made a mess."

"Drove me fucking wild. Couldn't help it." Peter smirks. "Wanna taste?"

You kiss him stupid in response. 

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