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blooming-violets · 7 months ago

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Lucky number 13 for Nature please :)

Apple Of My Eye || TASM Smut

Nature - 13: beneath the shade of trees in the middle of an orchard

[TASM Peter Parker x Fem!Reader]

WC: 1k (look at me being short and sweet for once in my damn life)

A/N: Two weeks later and I'm finally start to write for these prompts! I'm a slow bitch, I can not help it.

“It’s colder than I thought it would be out here.” She wrapped her arms around her sweater to try and hug out the chill in her bones. “I don’t think a skirt and tights was the right choice.”

Peter’s eyes roved over her body, taking in her legs in the sheer tights, “I think they were the perfect choice.”

That was easy for him to say. He had pants on.

She rolled her eyes and dropped the wooden basket full of apples she was carrying at the base of the closest tree trunk.

“Your opinions don’t count when you just like how my legs look in tights.”

They had been wandering through this apple orchard for almost two hours. At this point in their trek, they had yet to come across any other pickers for over forty minutes. They were deep into the orchard.

Probably lost.

Though Peter would never admit that.

With two full baskets of apples, they had more than enough for her mother, May, and themselves.

She sighed and leaned against the knotted tree, kicking at a rotten apple with the toe of her leather boot.

She was tired and hungry and cold and sick of picking apples.

“Are you going to give me your jacket or are you just going to stare at my legs some more?”

Peter tore his eyes away from watching the way the light breeze made her skirt dance around her thighs.

“What?”

She threw up her hands in exasperation, “Oh my god!”

He laughed, tackling her off the tree and wrapping his arms around her, dragging her straight to the dew covered grass.

“I was kidding, baby, kidding!” He pinned her to the ground, keeping her shoulders locked down with his palms and sliding his knees around her hips.

She couldn’t remember the last time she laid on the grass without a blanket between her and the ground.

“Peter!” She cried. “It’s wet down here. Cold and wet. Probably bugs. Worms. Little beetles. Oh god, spiders!”

“Shut up,” he laughed. He shoved his lips against hers to keep her quiet with a kiss. “It’s not cold. You’re just tired and cranky because we’ve been walking for approximately ten full business days while carrying all these apples.”

She nodded, huffing, “This is true. You got us lost. And now you’ve forced me to lay in Spider’s Ville. I bet they're crawling in my hair right now and laying their eggs.”

“The only spider down here is me and I’m already on top of you so you have nothing more to worry about.”

That got her to drop a bit of her attitude, turning her head to the side, the wet grass tickling her cheek, as she tried to hide her smile.

“Don’t you turn away from me when I’m being cute,” he chastised.

His hand slipped around her chin to gently turn her face back to him. He leaned down to kiss her again.

Taking his time.

Adoring her lips.

He slid down her body and forced himself to a kneel between her legs.

“You don’t need my jacket. I have other ways of warming you up,” he whispered, throwing a wink at her.

Her eyes widened in surprise, “Not here! We’re in public!”

Peter lifted his head and looked around, “Baby, please, all I see is you, me, and a shit ton of apples.”

“Well they could come!”

A suggestive smirk grew across his lips, “You’ll be the only cumming, don’t worry.”

Before she could even protest, his hand was slipping up her shirt and covering her breast over her bra, while he attacked her mouth with fiery kisses.

“Omph, Peter,” she tried to breathe through his kiss. “This is…is…oh.”

He had tugged down the strap of her bra, loosening the cup, so he could access her nipple. As she spoke, he flicked a finger against it, causing her to forget her words.

Her quiet moans in response were all he needed to keep going.

His tongue slipped past her lips, tangling with hers, enticing her to play along.

Her body relaxed, hands slowly moving up to run through his hair, as she submitted to his will.

The moment he felt her give in, he was ready to go.

Peter broke from the kiss to slide down her stomach. He trailed kisses over her sweater until he reached her skirt.

“You said you didn’t like these tights, right?” He panted, eyes wide with mischief. “They weren’t keeping you warm enough?”

She silently nodded, still trying to catch her breath from his dizzying kiss.

His hand disappeared under her skirt and a loud RIP followed.

She gasped in shock, “Peter!” She felt the massive hole he had torn open in her crotch. “That’s your solution to me being cold? Ripping my clothes off me? Counter productive.”

He chuckled under his breath, already settling himself in the grass between her legs, laying on his stomach and smirking up at her.

“Are you really that averse to my methods?”

She went quiet, hiding her need to smile. She wasn’t averse to it. She actually found it to be incredibly sexy. They were just a pair of cheap tights.

But she refused to tell him that.

He winked, reading her facial expressions anyway, “That’s what I thought. Now shut up and let me eat you like one of these apples.”

Chilly hands gently hooked behind her knees, raising her legs and spreading them wider, so he could scoot his shoulders closer. Peter pushed aside her underwear and let out a happy sigh at the sight awaiting him.

“I love this pussy,” he whispered to it.

His head ducked under her skirt and descended to her inner thighs. He brought his lips to her soft, rolling flesh. He traveled with kisses over her stretch marks and blemishes that he would never allow her to even think about calling imperfections.

There wasn’t a single inch of her skin that Peter didn’t adore.

Whatever reservations she might have had moments ago fly away the moment his breath hit her where she needed it most. The anticipation of what was to come had stoked a spark of her desire into a roaring lame. She didn’t care where he took her just as long as his tongue was buried in her pussy.

A whimper escaped her as they made contact.

She felt him give a breathy, hot laugh against her, knowing just as well as she did that she was enjoying this more than she wanted to let on.

He mumbled against her dewy lips, “You’re the cutest.”

He always loved hearing her whimper and moan despite all the fight she would put up.

She would give in.

Every time.

Peter delved back in, licking a steady stripe over her soft folds, dipping into her for a taste before dragging his tongue back up to her clit.

Tight, slow circles toyed with her sweet bud.

His mintrations were reserved. Lazy. Like he was purposely taking his time to savor every stretching second.

Languid and precise.

But it wasn’t long until he had her mewling and writhing over him.

The sounds urged him to hasten his work.

He wrapped his arms around her legs, pushing them up, locking his arms over her stomach so he could hold her closer. His face buried into her. Head hidden under her skirt. Lapping his tongue over her soaked, sensitive folds. Tending to her clit, worshiping it between his lips, before sinking his tongue back into her for another taste.

Heat rose over her body, warming her skin, pushing away the chill.

At least he was correct in delivering on that front. She was no longer cold.

Steaming hot.

Panting.

Her thighs trembled in Peter’s hold as pleasure seemed to pulse out from between them.

She let out a long, gasping moan. Trying to be silent should anyone be nearby but unable to keep it in.

Peter was too good with his tongue.

He responded with a guttural moan of his own from under her skirt, eating her out like a starving man unabashedly enjoying his first meal in days.

The vibrations of such a low, growling moan spread across her clit and sent shivers up her arching spine.

Her fists clenched at clumps of wet grass.

Feeling it give way in her hands. Ripping up. Dirt sinking under her nails.

She should be embarrassed how quickly Peter could take her from complaining about the cold to forcing her to orgasm but she couldn’t focus on anything besides that building pleasure.

His tongue pulled breathy whimpers from her lips.

Easing her closer and closer to that beautiful release.

“P-Peter!’ She gasped, letting out a desperate, needy whine. “Feels…so good!”

He was mumbling something against her lips but his words were muffled out by her cunt.

His grip around her belly tightened.

He knew she was almost there.

Hanging on by a quivering thread.

Peter turned all his attention to making love to her clit.

Her hips canted, arching off the ground.

Peter anticipated the move, shifting to follow her, knowing her well enough to predict where her body will go. Never letting the latch his mouth had on her pussy slip for even a second.

Her calves shook under her weight, holding her up, following her trembling thighs as her body gave in.

Her hand slammed across her mouth to stifle the shriek she desperately wanted to let rip. Letting it fall against her heavy, clamped hand instead.

Smelling the earthy dirt mixed with juicy apples against her fingers.

The faint smell of sex lingering in the wind.

Wet grass clinging to her skin.

Her clothes, damp.

Her body, on fire.

Peter stayed dutifully to her spasming pussy, letting her ride it out, sucking out every last drop she had to give, until she came crashing back to earth.

He lapped through her folds with moaning growls of delight as he cleaned her with his tongue.

It was only when she couldn’t take it anymore, far too sensitive post orgasm, that she shoved him out from under her skirt with her hand.

He emerged with a lopsided, glistening grin that screamed a silent “I told you so”.

It was only them and the apples.

Not a single person wandered on to the erotic feast he had devoured.

She threw a sweatered arm over her eyes to block out the sight of red apples against the deep blue sky.

Breathing heavily.

Feeling uncomfortable wet down below.

She felt him crawling over her. The weight of his stomach pressed against her.

His salty lips urged her out of hiding with his tongue gliding into her mouth.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him deeply.

Peter’s eyes were shining, proud of the work he had done this lazy afternoon.

He didn’t care for her ripped tights or soaked underwear or the fact that they were both covered in wet grass stains.

All he cared about was her and making sure her mood had shifted.

She shook her head up at him, still not fully believing he had suckered her into this.

“I love you to my core,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re the apple of my eye. You’re so a-peel-ing to me, baby. Let’s go home and live apple-y ever after.”

“I literally hate you so much right now.”

His laughter was enough to prove her statement false.

She loved him.

Even if he was a dork.

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