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loverboystyles · 3 years ago

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AHHH THANKS YOU 😚❤❤❤ BUT NO JOKE THIS IS SO FRICKEN GOOD

knee socks

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: minors literally DNI!! 18+ NSFW, graphic smut, prn with plot, college!peter, cocky!peter, dirty talk, degrading and praise kink, choking

summary: peter and group projects never mix well, but when he’s paired with a hell of a partner, everything changes for him.

notes: i think this is literally just 5k words of smut and cocky!peter so forgive me for the absolute sin in this… anyways happy reading to you! :) i based everything off of the song “knee socks” by arctic monkeys <333

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Peter absolutely despised group projects. They were the bane of his existence. His kryptonite, more so than small knives. Anything having to do with a team, partners, or working together — he hated it to the core. It wasn’t that he hated collaborating, or that he wasn’t a “people person,” but it seemed as if said people just didn’t like cooperating with him. Perhaps his classmates were threatened by his intelligence or his extreme skill in all areas of academia that almost seemed too good to be true. He’s grown cocky, Peter knew that. He liked referring to it (for lack of a better word) as confidence, though, especially with how he’s been on the Dean’s List every semester.

Peter was usually never one to complain about not being first in things or not being the best, because he never needed to complain. He just was. He was always on top of everything: school, work — hell, even the Empire State Building if you wanted to be literal.

Until today, when his biology professor told him that he no longer held the highest grade in the entire course.

‘But at least you’re second,’ she remarked with a joking tone. He refused to complain. At least second was better than third. It didn’t hurt him, rather the comment felt like getting a tiny scratch on a perfectly fine car. Then his professor mentioned something along the lines of a final project — a partner project. Now that hurt him, and the perfectly fine car had been hit by a giant semi-truck in his fickle attempt at an analogy.

Peter is practically bubbling in frustration when he looks at the list of names on the whiteboard. He found it all stupid. This was college. He should’ve been able to have the luxury to at least pick someone, not that there was anyone in this class he actually wanted to do the project with anyways, but it would’ve made him feel better.

In his head, he’s halfway through composing a poor excuse to work alone until his internal thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a voice.

“Hi, you’re Peter, right?”

His eyebrows raise curiously at the sweet sound. Turning in his seat, Peter isn’t met with a pathetic fratboy nor an obnoxious student athlete who was only taking the class for credits, but the delicious sight of knee socks.

Knee socks on a really, really pretty girl.

You.

Immediately, he notices the way your thighs squeeze together under your plaid skirt, your hands clasping tightly in front of the material. He forces himself to snap out of his trance, realizing that he’d been staring at the suppleness of your legs for longer than he intended to.

Peter admits. He one-hundred percent intended to stare.

“Y/N, I’m guessing.” He smiles sheepishly as the corners of his lips tug up in amusement. “Nice to meet you.”

You chuckle kindly. “You as well.” You gesture to the empty chair beside him. “This seat taken?”

“It’s yours now.”

Peter hates himself for watching you slide with ease into the spot beside him, your skirt riding up to show the lacy scruff of your knee socks. Oh, god. Fuck. He can’t bring himself to focus, especially when his wide eyes follow the way you shyly tuck a strand of hair back into your ponytail; then Peter is thinking of the most ungodly things ever to which he realizes he hasn’t had sex in an entire year. Even worse, he hasn’t gotten a blowjob in ages.

Flustered over knee socks. Fucking socks.

“… do the phylogenetic tree and then I could probably try looking for the synapomorphies when you’re done with that. But, I definitely think we could split up the essay and research part throughout the week since we have that exam on Thursday.”

Peter realizes that you’ve been talking this whole time and he’s only been thinking about the gloss on your lips. Artificial cherry. He could just smell it off of you, among other things. Clearing his throat and adjusting himself in his seat, he shrugs off-handedly. “Yeah, that — that sounds perfect.”

A knowing grin spreads across your face.

“Were you even listening to a word I said?”

“Oh, absolutely,” He scratches his nose as he waves his other hand through the air. “Phylogenetic trees, the synapomorphies, you know. All that evolutionary biology bullshit. I heard you, Y/N.”

You hum in approval, eyeing him as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand. “Well, what did I say about the essay?”

“Um…” Crap. “There is no essay?”

Your cheeks puff out as you laugh heartily. Your legs cross over one another, and Peter notices the redness of your knees as if you’d been — nevermind, he doesn’t want to assume.

But he thinks about it.

“I just find it interesting that the professor told me you would be a great partner.” You tilt your head at him, tongue darting out to lick your lips in thought. “For someone who doesn’t listen when other people are talking, it’s funny how you have the highest grade in the class.” A breathy chuckle escapes your lips. “Er, well, had.”

“How do you know about that?” His face contorts into a mix of confusion and irritation.

“I’m sorry, Peter. Kinda my fault.” The playful pout on your face spurs something inside of him. “I apologize, truly. I studied harder than usual for that last test. Didn’t mean to break your stride.”

He was second to you?

Speechless, the brunette lets out a shocked laugh. “You know,” Peter glances around the lecture hall, his voice lowering to a hush. His knee bumps against yours as he subconsciously shifts closer towards you, a teasing grin resting on his lips. “People with the higher grade in group projects usually end up doing most of the work, so I don’t think that’s something you should flaunt.” His eyes survey the way your fingers fiddle with the necklace around your neck. “Unless you like doing most of the work?”

You quirk a challenging brow at him.

“Not a big fan of it.” Your legs uncross, and you don’t miss how Peter carefully watches you plant your hands on the tops of your thighs as you lean forward. “I like meeting halfway. You give me something, I give you something. It’s a partner project, remember? I’ll work for it as long as you do too. I mean, it’s only right.”

Peter takes note of the subtle innuendo.

“And how do you plan on working together?”

You don’t move away when his leg practically touches yours. “Well, where do you want me, Peter?

It’s hard to think. It’s even harder to fucking speak. Was this intentional? Were you fucking with him?

He ignores the tightening of his throat when you innocently blink at him for an answer. His nerdish glasses start to fog up, and he quickly holds back a shuddering breath when you stare at him all doe-eyed. “Anywhere is fine.”

“So, my place then? I never really get any work done on campus, if I’m honest.”

Anywhere. Anywhere with you, and those fucking knee socks. Please.

“S’cool with me.” He messes with his hair. “As long as we get it done, right?”

The two of you share a look.

“Right.”

The first day Peter comes to your house, he has to push down any and all thoughts of blowjobs and stupid flimsy skirts. It’s crude and creepy. He doesn’t want to violate the image of you when you’ve so generously invited him to work at your house — even though mere seconds ago, he was just drooling at the thought of you as he knocked on your front door. He wonders what else you’re generous about.

Peter doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it is certainly not the sight of another pair of knee socks on your body. He’s proud of himself for not staring at them this time, but his joy is soon replaced when he sees the small track shorts hugging your thighs as if it were a second skin.

Skin. It’s all he sees.

“Hey, sorry for being early.” Peter bashfully shifts on either foot, hands gripping the strap of his backpack as you gesture for him to come inside. “Hope it’s alright.”

“Not a problem at all. The sooner we finish this, the better for both of us — by the way, want some water?” You glance over your shoulder at him as you make your way into the kitchen. Your voice echoes throughout the house, and Peter realizes that no one else is home when he only hears your footsteps. “How’s your day been?”

“Uh, sure. Sure, thanks.” He runs a thumb over his bottom lip. “Well, I’m good. I had a really tedious lab today for organic chem, the joys of being a STEM major and all. But, other than that, it’s alright.”

“Yeah? That’s nice.”

Small talk. Not too bad.

“Yours?”

Peter can barely see the curve of your ass when you walk, hips effortlessly swaying side to side until you’re bending over into the fridge and suddenly he thinks he’s in purgatory when your shorts somehow become even shorter. He respectfully looks away with a tense jaw.

Was this punishment for all the times he watched porn?

“Eh, kinda sucked. My best friend invited me to this party that’s going on later. You know Flash, yeah?” He nods, taking the glass of water from your hands when you move to stand beside him by the dining table. “Heard he’s doing some crazy keg stand competition. Unfortunately, I won’t be in attendance. School comes first. So this project comes first.”

“Oh.” Peter takes a slow sip. “Hate that I’m ruining your fun. I’ll be out of your hair in a couple days.”

You laugh. It’s sincere, and Peter likes how you shyly look up at him. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can have our own way. Partners aren’t always so bad.” You glance at the drop of water that rolls down his chin. “I think we’re pretty compatible.”

He eyes you over the rim of the cup when you lean back against the table. “Yeah?”

“I like telling people what to do… and you seem to follow. It works out perfectly.”

Peter smirks into the air, scoffing humorously under his breath as he shakes his head at you. “Mmm, nope. I think you’ve got it wrong, Y/N.”

“Do I? Is it the other way around?” That fucking look. You cross your arms over your shirt-clad chest. “Does Peter Parker like telling his classmates what to do?”

Another innuendo. It makes Peter’s heart race in anticipation.

“Occasionally.” Setting the glass down, his whole body angles towards yours. He towers over you in height, especially with how his hair sticks up messily in different directions. “I don’t have the highest grade for nothing.”

“Had.”

He gazes at you pointedly. A grin tugs at his face. “Had.”

The air feels warm. Peter can’t tell if he’s sweating. Neither of you break eye contact, holding each other’s stares with newfound intensity. You see his adam’s apple bob in your peripherals, and the veins of his arms are prominent as his hands tightly grip the table surface.

You innocently smile up at him. “How about we just get started?”

The second day Peter comes to your house, he isn’t fazed by the socks. Not anymore, at least, because he expects it. However, it doesn’t make it easier for him to actually focus. In fact, it’s gotten harder — especially when you’ve grown comfortable with him: making jokes, feathery touches on his arm, leaning over his shoulder to look at his laptop, doing other assignments with him even though you were strictly biology partners.

A partnership.

Except he really wanted to fuck his partner. Was that too forward?

The fourth day Peter comes to your house, it’s safe to say that he likes being around you — whether it was his brain telling him that or his dick, he doesn’t really care. He convinces himself that his fantasies about you and your skimpy outfits has dwindled down, instead replaced with high levels of stress and procrastination as the days leading up to the project’s due date are zoning in. Neither of you have actually been talking in the past hour, completely absorbed in the blue screens of your laptops as the sounds of typing fill the dining room. Conversations have been short, a quick nod or hum of agreement in the midst of concentration.

“What’d you get for the third part?” You pipe up, eyebrows furrowing at Peter as you scratch your head in exasperation. “I don’t get it.”

“Uh, funny you asked because…” He skims through the documents with a chuckle. “Yeah, no. I don’t — I skipped it, cause I honestly dunno either.”

You share a laugh, pushing aside your laptop. “God, I need a break!” Standing up, you stretch your arms over your head. “Fuck biology and fuck this assignment.”

Peter catches your tank top riding up your belly, and his ears perk up at the way a satisfied moan leaves your throat. The exposed skin looks soft, and he thinks about how it would feel under the roughness of his palms. The idea makes his face feel hot. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to think about the project anymore. He licks his lips, eyes widening in delight.

“Totally. Fuck it.”

Fuck me.

“Done with that?” You gesture to the juice beside him as you pick up yours. Drops of condensation have pooled around the glass, leaving a ring of wetness on the tabletop. “Lemme take it to the kitchen.”

“No, I can take it.” He stands, holding his hand out towards you. You shake your head, insisting when Peter tries to take the cup from you. “You’ve been hosting all week. Let me.”

“You’re my guest.” You pull away from him.

He steps towards you, still persistent on taking it. “Yeah, well, what ever happened to meeting halfway?”

“Peter, please. It’s alright.”

“Y/N. I’ll do it.”

All at once, the boy tugs on your hands a bit too hard, causing the juice to spill over the front of his white shirt. The material is drenched in fruity redness, soaking into his chest. Your eyes are huge, and Peter doesn’t know what to do with himself when your mouth hangs open in shock.

“I am so, so, fucking sorry, Peter! Oh, my god. I’m sorry!” You set the cups down, rushing over to grab paper towels from the kitchen island to clean up the mess you’ve created. You hand him a crumpled bunch, covering your mouth in embarrassment as he hurriedly dabs at his wet shirt.

“Hey, relax! It’s okay! Don’t even worry about it, just a shirt anyways.” He laughs, catching your eyes as he glances up at you in the chaos of your loud voices. “A personal favorite, but it’s okay.”

You sigh guiltily. “Favorite? Oh, shit. I’m — fuck, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Take it off.”

His head snaps up to look at you. “What?”

Was he hearing this correctly?

You shrug, outstretching your hand with a flick of your wrist when Peter stares at you perplexed. “I’ll wash the mess out. If you take it off now, I don’t think it’ll really stain.”

Nervously, he laughs into the thick air. “I can just buy a new one.”

“And I can just wash it.” He opens his mouth, but you beat him to it. “It’s the least I can do for spilling all over you. I don’t mind. I’ll get you a new one for now until it dries, only if you feel comfortable though.”

“I feel comfortable.” He stands closer to you.

“Okay.”

Your awaiting gaze fuels the pit in his stomach.

“Okay.”

He refuses to break eye contact when his fingers slip beneath the white shirt, tugging it up and over his head with ease. If he thought he was the one with a staring problem, you certainly one-upped him this time. Your pupils wander over the wide horizon of his shoulders, dropping to where his biceps contract when he hands you the article of clothing. With an audible gulp that makes Peter smirk, you timidly take it from him. His toned abs ripple under the light, leaving nothing to the imagination when you catch sight of his faint happy trail. You suddenly forget how to breathe. You knew Peter was attractive, there was no doubt — the handsome boy was almost six feet of pure intelligence and sported a loud mouth that made you wonder what else he could do with it besides talk.

But you didn't expect to see that underneath all that brain was brawn. Or to put it lightly, a body that was meant to be kissed and worshipped like a Greek god.

“I’m gonna…” You lose track of your words, throwing a pointed thumb over your shoulder as you compose yourself in front of a shirtless Peter. “I’m gonna go run this in the sink.”

“Yeah?” He looks at you teasingly. Your thighs squeeze together when he inches towards you ever so close. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He stifles a chuckle when you abruptly leave him in the dining room, sock-covered legs making a quick beeline for the bathroom down the hallway.

Your faltering voice doesn’t go unheard, not even when you turn the sink on. The inflection in your tone keeps Peter highly entertained. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” He shouts from the other side of the house, grinning widely when you re-emerge with blushing cheeks. You dry your hands on your shorts, eyes narrowing in annoyance as you stand in front of him once again.

“I look fine, I have no clue about what you’re even talking about.”

He takes note of the way you attempt a subtle double-take at his chest. “Quit staring, Y/N.”

“My god.” You scoff defensively with a glare. “You’re one to talk.”

“Oh, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You seem to love my knee socks. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m not blind.”

He hums at that. It’s true. “You seem to love seeing me shirtless.”

“Who said I loved it?”

Peter smiles cockily at you. “You can’t even look me in the eye right now.” His fingers brush against your arm when he shifts closer. “Wonder what’s going through that smart head of yours.”

“You couldn’t even focus on the day we met.”

“Neither could you. Squeezing those thighs together like I wouldn’t notice, is that right?”

You stick your chin out in dominance. “You can’t even go one second without checking out my ass.”

“Stop dressing like a whore around me then.”

The tension between the two of you is unmistakable. Peter can only focus on the way your breath hitches in your throat at his remark, and he quickly thinks of an apology for the unprovoked comment that he let slip in the heated moment.

But to his surprise, you don’t possess any anger.

Instead, you flame the fire.

“What makes you think I’m dressing like this for you?” You bite down on your bottom lip as you hesitantly run your nails across his knuckles, studying him with a gaze as innocent as a saint. His mouth parts, observing how your words hold a different meaning to them now. “Does it make you feel good? Everytime you open the door and see me like this?”

“You make it sound like I’m a creep.” He shudders when your hand envelops his, raising it up from the table to slowly intertwine your fingers together.

His palm is huge compared to yours.

He wonders what his fingers would look like inside of you.

“I don’t think you’re a creep.” You shake your head at him. Your whispers are sensual against his skin. “I like it when you stare. I like being looked at.” He blinks at you, ignoring the way his dick begins to strain against his sweatpants. “Do you like it when girls dress this way?”

Fucking hell.

Peter doesn’t show any sign of reluctance when you’re basically handing him an opportunity. Carefully, he takes his hand from yours, running it along the bottom edge of your shorts as he curls them against the material. He spreads his palm across your skin and trails it gradually up your thigh until it reaches your hip.

He makes sure to look you in the eyes.

“Personally I prefer when girls wear nothing at all for me.”

You gasp when he pushes you hard against the table, pressing his bare chest against you as his nose lingers by the scent of your hair. You peer hungrily at him through your lashes when his forehead rests against yours. You laugh at his immediate desperation. “Always knew you wanted to fuck me since day one.”

His breaths are hot on your face.

“God, I’ll do more than fuck you, silly girl.” His hands swallow your face when he pulls your mouth onto his, front teeth bumping together when his lips find yours. He’s gasping and gripping at you harshly like an animal, and you find yourself turned on with how he wedges his knee between your closed legs. The material of his sweats become newfound friction for you, to which Peter surveys your mindless grinding against it. “Such a fucking tease. Showing up to class in the sluttiest outfits… acting all innocent.” He speaks filthily between wet kisses, breathing hard against your neck as his hand comes to wrap around it. “Don't even get me started on your little tricks.”

“Have no clue what you mean.” You moan in excitement when he maneuvers you by the throat. “Enlighten me.”

“Asking me if it makes me feel good when you dress like this…” He groans when you tug at his hair, pulling him closer towards you so that you’re trapped against the table. “You really wanna know?”

“Please.” You run your hands up his chest, feeling him all over and growing wetter at the warmth of his skin.

You yelp when he forcibly grabs you by your ponytail, sitting you back down onto one of the dining chairs whilst he stands over you. The height of his shadow devours your frame, making you feel tiny from this low of a position. His fingers don’t leave your head, aiming it so that your nose is practically touching his crotch.

“Look at me.” Your eyes bounce up at him, but he clicks his tongue in a scolding manner and forces your gaze back down. “Look at me.” You swallow roughly at the image of his hardening cock. Even through his sweatpants, you can see the thick outline of his length, suddenly regretting your underestimation of his size. “Y/N, I’ve been jerking off to the thought of knee socks for the past four days. Do you have any idea how crazy you’ve made me?”

“I can make you even crazier.”

He laughs bitterly, craning your head to the side so he can watch your neck flex beneath his touch. “I’m sure you’d love that. But today — fuck, today, I think I’d like to see how fucking needy you can get when I put my dick inside you.” You moan at his statement, mouth falling open at the verbal pleasure of his words. “Smartest girl in the class… fucked stupid by me.”

You open your eyes to gawk at him, jaw slack at his tone of voice. “Is this what happens in all of your group projects? Dirty-talking with your classmates?”

“Oh, god, no. None of them are as fucking sexy as you.” His thumbs hook over his pants and his boxers, harshly tugging them down his legs and kicking them aside with his feet. “And none of them actually do the work. But you…” Your hands eagerly reach for his cock, gently pumping it in your fist while he hisses at the sensation. “… you seem to meet me halfway.”

“Can I?” You study his contorted expression, holding his length by your face until he nods excitedly. Peter lets out a long sputtering exhale of relief when you take him into your mouth, plump lips suctioning around the pretty tip of his cock as your head bobs up and down rhythmically.

“Fucking… shit, Y/N.” He steadies himself against the table, screwing his eyes shut in sinful pleasure when your girlish chuckles vibrate against him. “Perfect. Such a perfect mouth.” He pulls his bottom lip with his teeth, sucking in a breath when you try to take all of him. Your eyes are full of forced tears, and you hold back a gag when your nose digs into his pelvis.

You pull back with a wet mouth, gasping for air as you jerk him off in your hand while you catch your bearings. Your face is red and saliva dribbles from your chin as you try to wipe the thick fluid from your jaw. Peter stares down at you with adoration, turned on even more with how quickly he’s made you into a mess.

“You’re so big.” You gape at him, fondling with the underside of his cock as you press little kisses to his thighs. “You’d ruin me. Can’t wait for you to turn me into a dumb little slut.”

“Aw, baby. You already are.” He purrs, gently slapping his hand against the bulge in your cheek when you start sucking him off again. “Top of your class but all it takes is my dick to dumb you down. S’okay if I help you out?” You nod and moan in surprise when Peter’s hips snap against your lips. Your throat feels full as he thrusts into it slowly, gagging around his girth. You tap his arm three times when it becomes too overwhelming, head spinning from the lack of oxygen when he bottoms out. Instantly, he pulls away from you, giving you time to compose yourself when tears roll down your cheek. His cocky demeanor disappears slightly when he bends down to your height, eyes worried as he rubs your back. “Does it hurt? I’ll stop. You let me know and we’ll stop anytime.”

You shyly glance away. “No, no, just — I’ve never… never had my mouth fucked.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Such a chatty mouth and no one’s put it to good use?”

“Nope.” You laugh at the jab, rubbing the hinge of your jaw. Your throat already feels sore, but talking with Peter doesn’t hurt you in the slightest. “You’re the first.”

“We don’t have to do it again. I won’t make you do anything unless you want to.” He emphasizes every word.

You smile apologetically, “I liked it. Just a bit much for me. ” Your hand reaches for his, and you stroke his palm softly with watchful eyes. “Fortunately for you, I think my cunt could get used to your dick.”

“Jesus Christ.” He’s taken aback by the crude statement, eyebrows raising at your forwardness despite the tear tracks on your cheeks. “Just like that, huh?”

You nod, leaning to kiss him on the lips. “Could get used to you between my thighs, too.”

“Fuck, all you had to do was ask me, Y/N.” He stands to full height, grasping you softly by the chin until he’s hoisting you onto the dining table with his hands. It screeches against the floorboards with your added weight. Peter hovers, pulling you towards the edge so that your legs are dangling in front of him.

He doesn’t speak, but the animalistic glare in his eyes is enough to tell you what he’s thinking. His tongue darts out to lick his lips when his hands caress your thighs, running down your flesh until they meet the tops of your knee socks. You gasp when he snaps the garter against your skin, the sharp sound echoing throughout the room.

Holding yourself up by your forearms, you feel yourself growing wetter as he continues to toy with your clothing. Your voice comes out as a whimper, “Peter…”

“What?” He grins toothily at you, his cock rubbing against your knee. “You don’t like it when I touch you?”

“I don’t like it when you tease.”

“That needy, huh? You wanna skip all the foreplay and have me fuck you silly until you’re nothing but a moaning mess on my dick? Is that it, baby?”

“Oh, fuck.” You throw your head back when he suckles a mark on your chest, breath hot against your skin.

You groan shamelessly when his hand harshly slaps the wet spot on your shorts. “On your knees. Gonna eat you out from behind. Take that top off for me, don’t make me do all the work now.” He jerks himself off in his hand, watching you desperately rid yourself of your camisole until you’re on all fours and your tits are on full display. You smile back at him, wiggling your ass in the air when he presses a firm hand to the arch of your back. “So fucking hot. Stay like this for me.”

He can smell you. It’s fucking erotic.

Curiously, you gesture at the knee socks, almost as if you were questioning if he was going to take them off of you. “What about it?” He scoffs out.

“You want me to keep these on?”

“Y/N, it all started with that. Of course I want you to keep it on.” He slaps your ass. “And I’ve been dreaming about fucking you in them ever since you said hello.”

“Fuck.”

You lean your cheek against the cool surface of the table, closing your eyes as Peter tugs your shorts down the curve of your hips, revealing the tiny thong underneath. He audibly moans at the visual and kneads at your ass before he’s peppering the skin with open-mouthed kisses. You jump in surprise when he presses his mouth to the crotch of your panties, licking your cunt through the fabric.

Then, he’s ripping the undergarment apart with one hand, tossing the cheap article aside until he moves to spread you apart.

“Peter, please.” Your moans are muffled. “Please, make me cum.”

“God, I can just taste you from here.” He chuckles against your folds, prodding your entrance with the pad of his thumb. “Wish you could see my view right now.” You gasp loudly when he runs a digit over your throbbing clit. This time, you can’t squeeze your thighs together. “You’re fucking dripping, Y/N.”

“F-fuck…” You fight back another moan when he suctions his lips around the nub while he pushes his middle finger into your cunt, juices squelching around it. “Peter. Oh, fuck. Feels so — oh, it feels amazing.”

“All the times I’ve caught you staring at my hands,” He mumbles against your core, continuing to finger you slowly as he gauges your reaction. “Were you thinking about how good they’d feel?”

“Peter…” You breathe out his name once again, thighs nearly quivering from his touch.

“Gonna cum, baby?”

A shy, whiny moan leaves your mouth when Peter continues to pump his fingers inside you. You’re writhing and shaking from overstimulation by the time he makes you cum, and you desperately try to clamp your thighs around his hand when he rides out your orgasm.

“Fucking… god, I…”

It leaves you speechless.

Peter kisses up your spine, palms caressing your love handles as he nibbles on your shoulder.

He’s all you can think about.

“So good for me.” He whispers against your earlobe. “I wanna be inside you, can I do that?” His voice is sweet, but the uttered words are nothing of the same sort. “Let me fuck you until you can’t speak.” You shudder when he grabs you off the table. You stand with your back against him, his hard cock pressing against your ass. “Let me fuck you until you can’t even walk.”

“S’all I want, Peter.” You roll your head onto his chest, blinking widely at him as his hands dip to spread you open again. “Please. Have your way with me.”

“You’re absolute heaven.” He sighs in satisfaction when you bare your neck for him, allowing him to grip you by the throat when his cock slips between your folds. “Letting me take you from behind like this.”

“Please.”

“I love hearing you beg.” He thrusts into you while gazing down at your face of pleasure. “Gonna fuck you until you’re nothing but stupid for this cock.”

He’s good. Really fucking good.

Peter is moaning into your mouth, whispering dirty sins against your swollen lips while he strokes deep into you. Your cunt is squeezing around him, enveloping him whole as he fulfills his promise.

Your words have become meaningless blubbers, and Peter realizes that he has actually fucked the smarts out of you when you can’t even properly open your eyes to look at him.

“Y/N, baby…” He whimpers loudly, his saliva staining the complexion of your skin as he gasps into the crook of your neck. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?”

“Y/N, fuck.” You meet his hips with your own, bouncing your ass against his thighs before he pushes you down against the table. His hands take your wrists to pull your arms behind you, using it as leverage to hold you up while his length pumps into you. “F-fuck, I’m gonna cum all over you.”

You feel so full.

“Peter, can I cum again?”

“Wait for me.” His thrusts grow messy as his hips lose their rhythm in you. “You don’t get to cum until I say you do, got it?”

“Please, I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Oh, my god — keep clenching around me like that.”

“Peter.”

Peter’s arms encircle your waist. He lets out a long moan, panting and whining against you as he brings your body flush to his chest again. “Go on, sweet girl. Cum with me.”

Your breaths are ragged and heavy, and sounds of pleasure fill the house as you and Peter reach your orgasm.

He rests his head against the side of your face while he comes to a still inside you, body twitching ever so slightly as you cradle his jaw with a soft hand.

“Damn.” You huff out, catching your breath.

The boy holds you tighter against him, savoring the sensation of your walls until he forces himself to pull out of you. “That was…”

“Really good.”

“You think?” You open your eyes at his question, sending him a confused look.

“Peter, I had like two orgasms and you’re seriously asking me if that was any good?” Your interlocked hands rest against your stomach, nervous fingers rubbing at each other’s knuckles.

He shrugs with a smirk. “Just wanted to hear you say it actually.” You pry yourself off of him, skin slick with body fluids and sticky sweat that proved the two of you had been up to no good.

Your legs wobble as you move to collect the clothes off the floor.

Peter carefully watches the mess he made of you while he redresses.

The once-organized documents on the dining table are nothing but wrinkled papers, your laptops nearing the edge of the tabletop from how hard Peter was fucking you against the surface. Both of your chests continue heaving by the time the two of you are decent, and the sudden awkward tension turns humorous when Peter realizes he’s still without a shirt.

When you hand him a new one, all he can think about is how pretty you look all fucked-out.

“So…” He starts, mindlessly rubbing the hickies on his neck.

You snap your fingers together. “Ah, the project.”

“Right.” The brunette nods to himself timidly. “We should work on that now, huh?”

“Fuck biology.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Fuck this project. Fuck college.”

“Yeah, fuck all of it.” He laughs to himself, then smirks boyishly. “Or you could fuck me?”

You gape at him.

“Seriously? Okay, round two then.”

“I am so not done with you yet.”

Peter realizes now that maybe he does like working in a group. It’s an exaggeration, but he’s able to admit wholeheartedly that he enjoys the idea of partnerships.

Especially when said partner dresses in knee socks paired with a generous side of booty shorts.

And even though your project has come to an end, Peter finds himself coming to your house a lot more often to “collaborate” with you — if collaborating meant studying with you one minute and fucking you the next.

By all means, he’s thankful for knee socks.

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loverboystyles · 3 years ago

Text

literally made my period cramps go away

knee socks

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: minors literally DNI!! 18+ NSFW, graphic smut, prn with plot, college!peter, cocky!peter, dirty talk, degrading and praise kink, choking

summary: peter and group projects never mix well, but when he’s paired with a hell of a partner, everything changes for him.

missing out? ➤ my masterlist

Until today, when his biology professor told him that he no longer held the highest grade in the entire course.

In his head, he’s halfway through composing a poor excuse to work alone until his internal thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a voice.

“Hi, you’re Peter, right?”

Knee socks on a really, really pretty girl.

You.

Peter admits. He one-hundred percent intended to stare.

“Y/N, I’m guessing.” He smiles sheepishly as the corners of his lips tug up in amusement. “Nice to meet you.”

You chuckle kindly. “You as well.” You gesture to the empty chair beside him. “This seat taken?”

“It’s yours now.”

Flustered over knee socks. Fucking socks.

A knowing grin spreads across your face.

“Were you even listening to a word I said?”

You hum in approval, eyeing him as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand. “Well, what did I say about the essay?”

“Um…” Crap. “There is no essay?”

Your cheeks puff out as you laugh heartily. Your legs cross over one another, and Peter notices the redness of your knees as if you’d been — nevermind, he doesn’t want to assume.

But he thinks about it.

“How do you know about that?” His face contorts into a mix of confusion and irritation.

He was second to you?

You quirk a challenging brow at him.

Peter takes note of the subtle innuendo.

“And how do you plan on working together?”

You don’t move away when his leg practically touches yours. “Well, where do you want me, Peter?

It’s hard to think. It’s even harder to fucking speak. Was this intentional? Were you fucking with him?

“So, my place then? I never really get any work done on campus, if I’m honest.”

Anywhere. Anywhere with you, and those fucking knee socks. Please.

“S’cool with me.” He messes with his hair. “As long as we get it done, right?”

The two of you share a look.

“Right.”

Skin. It’s all he sees.

“Hey, sorry for being early.” Peter bashfully shifts on either foot, hands gripping the strap of his backpack as you gesture for him to come inside. “Hope it’s alright.”

“Yeah? That’s nice.”

Small talk. Not too bad.

“Yours?”

Was this punishment for all the times he watched porn?

“Oh.” Peter takes a slow sip. “Hate that I’m ruining your fun. I’ll be out of your hair in a couple days.”

He eyes you over the rim of the cup when you lean back against the table. “Yeah?”

“I like telling people what to do… and you seem to follow. It works out perfectly.”

Peter smirks into the air, scoffing humorously under his breath as he shakes his head at you. “Mmm, nope. I think you’ve got it wrong, Y/N.”

“Do I? Is it the other way around?” That fucking look. You cross your arms over your shirt-clad chest. “Does Peter Parker like telling his classmates what to do?”

Another innuendo. It makes Peter’s heart race in anticipation.

“Had.”

He gazes at you pointedly. A grin tugs at his face. “Had.”

You innocently smile up at him. “How about we just get started?”

A partnership.

Except he really wanted to fuck his partner. Was that too forward?

“What’d you get for the third part?” You pipe up, eyebrows furrowing at Peter as you scratch your head in exasperation. “I don’t get it.”

“Uh, funny you asked because…” He skims through the documents with a chuckle. “Yeah, no. I don’t — I skipped it, cause I honestly dunno either.”

You share a laugh, pushing aside your laptop. “God, I need a break!” Standing up, you stretch your arms over your head. “Fuck biology and fuck this assignment.”

“Totally. Fuck it.”

Fuck me.

“No, I can take it.” He stands, holding his hand out towards you. You shake your head, insisting when Peter tries to take the cup from you. “You’ve been hosting all week. Let me.”

“You’re my guest.” You pull away from him.

He steps towards you, still persistent on taking it. “Yeah, well, what ever happened to meeting halfway?”

“Peter, please. It’s alright.”

“Y/N. I’ll do it.”

You sigh guiltily. “Favorite? Oh, shit. I’m — fuck, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Take it off.”

His head snaps up to look at you. “What?”

Was he hearing this correctly?

You shrug, outstretching your hand with a flick of your wrist when Peter stares at you perplexed. “I’ll wash the mess out. If you take it off now, I don’t think it’ll really stain.”

Nervously, he laughs into the thick air. “I can just buy a new one.”

“I feel comfortable.” He stands closer to you.

“Okay.”

Your awaiting gaze fuels the pit in his stomach.

“Okay.”

But you didn't expect to see that underneath all that brain was brawn. Or to put it lightly, a body that was meant to be kissed and worshipped like a Greek god.

“I’m gonna…” You lose track of your words, throwing a pointed thumb over your shoulder as you compose yourself in front of a shirtless Peter. “I’m gonna go run this in the sink.”

Your faltering voice doesn’t go unheard, not even when you turn the sink on. The inflection in your tone keeps Peter highly entertained. “Me?”

“I look fine, I have no clue about what you’re even talking about.”

He takes note of the way you attempt a subtle double-take at his chest. “Quit staring, Y/N.”

“My god.” You scoff defensively with a glare. “You’re one to talk.”

“Oh, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You seem to love my knee socks. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m not blind.”

He hums at that. It’s true. “You seem to love seeing me shirtless.”

“Who said I loved it?”

“You couldn’t even focus on the day we met.”

“Neither could you. Squeezing those thighs together like I wouldn’t notice, is that right?”

You stick your chin out in dominance. “You can’t even go one second without checking out my ass.”

“Stop dressing like a whore around me then.”

But to his surprise, you don’t possess any anger.

Instead, you flame the fire.

“You make it sound like I’m a creep.” He shudders when your hand envelops his, raising it up from the table to slowly intertwine your fingers together.

His palm is huge compared to yours.

He wonders what his fingers would look like inside of you.

Fucking hell.

He makes sure to look you in the eyes.

“Personally I prefer when girls wear nothing at all for me.”

His breaths are hot on your face.

“Have no clue what you mean.” You moan in excitement when he maneuvers you by the throat. “Enlighten me.”

“Please.” You run your hands up his chest, feeling him all over and growing wetter at the warmth of his skin.

“I can make you even crazier.”

You open your eyes to gawk at him, jaw slack at his tone of voice. “Is this what happens in all of your group projects? Dirty-talking with your classmates?”

You shyly glance away. “No, no, just — I’ve never… never had my mouth fucked.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Such a chatty mouth and no one’s put it to good use?”

“Nope.” You laugh at the jab, rubbing the hinge of your jaw. Your throat already feels sore, but talking with Peter doesn’t hurt you in the slightest. “You’re the first.”

“We don’t have to do it again. I won’t make you do anything unless you want to.” He emphasizes every word.

“Jesus Christ.” He’s taken aback by the crude statement, eyebrows raising at your forwardness despite the tear tracks on your cheeks. “Just like that, huh?”

You nod, leaning to kiss him on the lips. “Could get used to you between my thighs, too.”

Holding yourself up by your forearms, you feel yourself growing wetter as he continues to toy with your clothing. Your voice comes out as a whimper, “Peter…”

“What?” He grins toothily at you, his cock rubbing against your knee. “You don’t like it when I touch you?”

“I don’t like it when you tease.”

“That needy, huh? You wanna skip all the foreplay and have me fuck you silly until you’re nothing but a moaning mess on my dick? Is that it, baby?”

“Oh, fuck.” You throw your head back when he suckles a mark on your chest, breath hot against your skin.

He can smell you. It’s fucking erotic.

Curiously, you gesture at the knee socks, almost as if you were questioning if he was going to take them off of you. “What about it?” He scoffs out.

“You want me to keep these on?”

“Y/N, it all started with that. Of course I want you to keep it on.” He slaps your ass. “And I’ve been dreaming about fucking you in them ever since you said hello.”

“Fuck.”

Then, he’s ripping the undergarment apart with one hand, tossing the cheap article aside until he moves to spread you apart.

“Peter, please.” Your moans are muffled. “Please, make me cum.”

“Peter…” You breathe out his name once again, thighs nearly quivering from his touch.

“Gonna cum, baby?”

“Fucking… god, I…”

It leaves you speechless.

Peter kisses up your spine, palms caressing your love handles as he nibbles on your shoulder.

He’s all you can think about.

“S’all I want, Peter.” You roll your head onto his chest, blinking widely at him as his hands dip to spread you open again. “Please. Have your way with me.”

“Please.”

“I love hearing you beg.” He thrusts into you while gazing down at your face of pleasure. “Gonna fuck you until you’re nothing but stupid for this cock.”

He’s good. Really fucking good.

Peter is moaning into your mouth, whispering dirty sins against your swollen lips while he strokes deep into you. Your cunt is squeezing around him, enveloping him whole as he fulfills his promise.

Your words have become meaningless blubbers, and Peter realizes that he has actually fucked the smarts out of you when you can’t even properly open your eyes to look at him.

“Y/N, baby…” He whimpers loudly, his saliva staining the complexion of your skin as he gasps into the crook of your neck. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?”

You feel so full.

“Peter, can I cum again?”

“Wait for me.” His thrusts grow messy as his hips lose their rhythm in you. “You don’t get to cum until I say you do, got it?”

“Please, I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Oh, my god — keep clenching around me like that.”

“Peter.”

Peter’s arms encircle your waist. He lets out a long moan, panting and whining against you as he brings your body flush to his chest again. “Go on, sweet girl. Cum with me.”

Your breaths are ragged and heavy, and sounds of pleasure fill the house as you and Peter reach your orgasm.

He rests his head against the side of your face while he comes to a still inside you, body twitching ever so slightly as you cradle his jaw with a soft hand.

“Damn.” You huff out, catching your breath.

The boy holds you tighter against him, savoring the sensation of your walls until he forces himself to pull out of you. “That was…”

“Really good.”

“You think?” You open your eyes at his question, sending him a confused look.

“Peter, I had like two orgasms and you’re seriously asking me if that was any good?” Your interlocked hands rest against your stomach, nervous fingers rubbing at each other’s knuckles.

He shrugs with a smirk. “Just wanted to hear you say it actually.” You pry yourself off of him, skin slick with body fluids and sticky sweat that proved the two of you had been up to no good.

Your legs wobble as you move to collect the clothes off the floor.

Peter carefully watches the mess he made of you while he redresses.

When you hand him a new one, all he can think about is how pretty you look all fucked-out.

“So…” He starts, mindlessly rubbing the hickies on his neck.

You snap your fingers together. “Ah, the project.”

“Right.” The brunette nods to himself timidly. “We should work on that now, huh?”

“Fuck biology.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Fuck this project. Fuck college.”

“Yeah, fuck all of it.” He laughs to himself, then smirks boyishly. “Or you could fuck me?”

You gape at him.

“Seriously? Okay, round two then.”

“I am so not done with you yet.”

Peter realizes now that maybe he does like working in a group. It’s an exaggeration, but he’s able to admit wholeheartedly that he enjoys the idea of partnerships.

Especially when said partner dresses in knee socks paired with a generous side of booty shorts.

By all means, he’s thankful for knee socks.

#oh my GOD #literally so fucking good

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