a long time coming-peter parker
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paring peter parker x fem reader
summary you and spider-man have formed an odd friendship, until one night changes everything.
word count 4.8k
warnings explicit smut, MDNI, only +18 readers, masturbation, overstimulation, tension, nipple play, fingering, oral play, choking, pet names, clit play, mask play, dirty talk, praise kink, cockwarming lowkey switch vibes, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it pls), multiple orgasms, multiple positions, strength difference, heightened senses iykyk.
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Stumbling across the rooftop, Peter groans as he presses his hands against his eyes. His vision blurs as his lenses shift with effort, whirring against his heaving face. Peter groans even louder as another sliver of pain filters through him, his head filled to the brim with searing fog. He has been at this all day, trying to hone in on his heightened arachnid senses and gain a semblance of how to control it. It was all to no avail, the headaches still persisted and his control was slipping by the minute.
“Fuck,” he grits out, his blinding headache ringing in his ears. The sharpened sound of a siren causes him to jolt to a stop and cry out. Peter’s head swam as he struggled to focus on a singular sound, all of them filtering together into an agonizing symphony. His breathing halts in his chest, each ragged breath as painful as the next. Grabbing onto the edge of the rooftop, Peter tries to focus on something, anything to steady him. He could feel the grooves in his fingertips gripping his sweaty suit, the sensation of the gravel rooftop causing him to grit his teeth. The sound of rushing water filtered through a shitty shower head nearly blinds him as he tries to hone in on the direction of the sound. Water rushes down a drain, but not before faltering across hair and skin. Peter inhales and nearly gasps as the scent overwhelms his senses, a combination of sweet soap and something that he couldn’t quite place. Peter’s head tilts to the right slightly before racing across the rooftop and leaping over to the next building. His body moved on autopilot, climbing across railings and swinging between alleyways. He stops suddenly on a rickety fire escape, his swirling eyes trained on the window above him. Peter groans at the sweet scent wafting from the window, causing another ripple of pain to infiltrate his pounding head. It wasn’t until he heard your quiet hums that he knew where he was.
The trickling water guides him up the fire escape and at the foot of your window. It was not that long ago that he found his way into your apartment by accident, stumbling in thinking it was his own. Luckily enough, he was conscious enough to ensure that his mask stayed on, but not enough to stop you from treating his wounds. He tried to avoid you after that, but somehow stumbled into the laundry room while you were washing your clothes. You had rushed him into your apartment and treated him yet again. Peter jokingly called you his personal nurse and you seemed to preen at that, smiling to yourself. You insisted that he doesn’t let his injuries go untreated and that you wouldn’t ask questions. His late night visits became a routine and more often than not, he would crawl into your window to treat a scrape that he could easily reach. You would talk about random things to fill the time, babbling about your job and irritating family. And Peter would sit and listen, eagerly taking in everything about you. It had been so long since he had someone to talk to, he didn't know what he could share. But you took his awkwardness in stride, allowing him time to indulge you in his favorite movie or his favorite restaurant in the city. You had become more and more concerned about Peter’s headaches, but he’d brush it off and say that he was working on it. Despite seeing you nearly every night, Peter didn’t tell you that he lived in the very same building, just a floor above you in an empty storage room.
White knuckling the edge of the window, Peter yanks it open and barely makes it inside before falling against the wall. Your dim apartment groaned and creaked, the only light filtering in from underneath the bathroom door. The roaring sound of running water washes over him as he blinks his eyes rapidly, vision beginning to cloud. You were taking a shower.
----
Sighing aloud, your hands massage shampoo into your aching scalp. The soap trails down your neck and you roll your head slightly, allowing the hot water to hit it just so. You groan at the feeling of the water hitting a particular knot in your tense neck. It had been two days since you last saw him. Ever since Spiderman stumbled into your apartment nearly two years ago, you had formed a strange attachment to the masked vigilante. Despite not knowing his name or age, you knew his favorite color and how he liked his clothes folded. You remembered his indian order and guilty pleasure movie, as well as which hand he writes with. Your relationship with him was confusing, but steady enough to consider him a friend. He would've shown up by now, covered in enough blood and bruises to make you cringe. Luckily, you went to nursing school long enough to understand how to patch someone up. You had begun to mention school when he had asked you how you knew how to stitch a wound, but stopped when the question of why you weren’t a nurse was silently raised. He had brushed it off in the moment, taking your silence as an answer.
“Hey, if it weren’t for you I’d probably be dead,” he had said, sprawled out against your couch. You swatted him with your free hand, brushing against his broad chest. And when you caught yourself staring too long at the rise and fall of his chest or the ripple of his strained abs, you’d jerk your head down towards your first aid kit. Whether or not he noticed your reactions, he never said anything.
You had told yourself time and time again that you were ridiculous for feeling anything towards him. He was a masked vigilante, you had no clue what his name was or what he looked like. But you couldn’t help but notice his voice, his laugh, the way that he walked around your tiny apartment with such comfortability, the way that the air seemed to seize when you got too close. Your chest heaved at the thought of him laid on your couch, his legs spread wide to account for you standing between them. You’d lean over him bent at the waist, swiping alcohol soaked cloth across his wound stricken body. Sometimes he would tense at the feeling, but you told yourself it was the depth of the wound or bruising that hadn’t bloomed yet. He would absent mindedly brush the outside of your thigh with his hands, acting as anchors for your restless thighs. Sometimes you found yourself wanting to test him, wearing the smallest cotton shorts underneath your biggest t-shirt. You’d imagine his hands trailing up and down, playing slightly with the edge of your sleep shorts. His fingers would delve beyond your shorts, gripping the back of your thighs and kneading up to your ass.
Your hands pause in your hair as heat pools between your legs, causing your thighs to clench in return. Your breathing grows shallow as you rub your thighs together again, testing the buzzing sensation. Water trails down your neck, over your trembling breasts and onto the slick shower floor. Your hands drag down your neck, circling around your collarbone and dipping down the valley of your breasts. You lurch at the feeling of hands gripping you and you could almost feel the nylon clad fingers circling your throbbing nipples. The water fully pounds down on your tilted head as your hands deftly play with your breasts, enticing soft gasps to escape you.
His hands would delve into your inner thighs from behind, fingers trailing over your dripping arousal. One hand would drag around your thigh as the other traced your weeping entrance, simultaneously pulling you even closer.
You drag your hand down your stomach and past your navel, dipping in between your trembling thighs. A soft moan trickles out of you at the feeling of hot arousal leaking out of you, coating your wandering fingers. Testingly, you trace your middle finger around your entrance and dip it into your sopping pussy. You gasp at how eagerly your walls clench down on your finger and it's not long before you add another, your hips rutting against your thrusting hands.
He would manage to get three fingers inside of you and crook them just so with each thrust. They would reach that far place in you, coaxing mindless moans out of you with each flick of his hand. His other hand would find your swollen clit, thumb grinding down with each thrust.
Your leg hitches on top of the tub edge as you chase your building orgasm, the sound of your leaking arousal music to your ears. Your thumb flicks against your clit and you can’t help but yelp at the bolt of pleasure sent straight between your legs. You grind against your hand, eager to create any sort of friction against your aching clit.
“Oh fuck,” you moan, your voice echoing against the damp shower walls. More, you needed more. Without much thought, you grab the shower head with your hand that braced against the shower wall. Frantically rotating the head, the pressure increases and hones into a steady but strong stream. Your chest heaves with anticipation as you mindlessly spread your legs even further, your other hand still thrusting into your dripping pussy. The stream hits your belly and you take no time to settle the head between your legs.
Your mouth opens in a silent moan as the stream pulverizes your swollen clit, your other hand paused within your wet heat. Your thighs tremble as arousal gushes out of you, your leg folds into your side as you frantically chase your release. Your fingers continue their thrusts after a moment, the hot water trickling down your slit. A heady moan escapes you as the shower head reaches a new angle and you eagerly thrust your hips towards it.
A loud crash jolts through you, cutting through the thick haze.
Shit. He was here. Probably hurt and bleeding. And here you were, fucking your shower head to the mear thought of him. Fumbling with the shower head, you manage to hook it on the wall before shutting the water off. Grabbing your towel off the wall, you don't even dry yourself before you yank the door open.
“Spidey, you had me worried for a-” the sentence falls short as you take in the state of him. You expected him to be clutching his side, blood soaking through his nylon suit. Except, he was sprawled across the couch, deftly stroking his hard cock. The lamp that sat on your side table had fallen next to him, the base shattered as the flickering light cast the most obscene shadow against him. He didn’t seem to notice you, his head thrown back against the couch cushion as he thrusts against himself, arousal leaking from his ruddy tip. Your mouth opens in shock as fire trickles down your spine and swirls into your inner thighs. You rub your thighs together as arousal pools out of you, leaking down your damp leg.
Spiderman’s breathing stops as his head whips toward you, his lenses shifting and whirring to life. His hand reaches the top of his cock and he runs his thumb over the tip, before thrusting into his hand with a hiss. You follow his hand and drag your eyes across his thick thighs and where his suit had parted for his heavy cock.
“Don’t,” he starts, his voice coming out as a growl.
You raise your eyes begrudgingly to his masked face, confusion filtering across your face.
“Don’t come near…me,” he manages to get out as his sloppy thrusts continue, arousal leaking down his length and coating his every thrust.
“I don’t…I don’t understand,” you say, your voice trembling with need. There he was, in front of you practically fucking his own hand, and he tells you to not come near him.
His head cocks to the side. You can’t see his eyes, but you can feel them dragging down your heaving body. Your hand tightens around the towel loosely wrapped around you and a sharp hiss escapes him.
“It’s you,” he grits out. “I tried to fight it…you.”
“Fight? Fight me?”
“You…your laugh, your smell, your soft skin,” he growls. “The sounds you make when you touch yourself.”
You gasp aloud, his words stoking the fire within you.
“Everything,” he says, his hips meeting his moving hand with vigor.
“How long,” you manage to croak out, your mind still reeling from his admission.
He practically moans as he eagerly strokes his steely cock, the sound of his slippery arousal enough to make your mouth dry.
“Long…enough,” he grits.
“Spidey,” you breathe out, your voice sounding heady and thick. “Is this…happening because of your headaches? Maybe if you-”
Before you could say another word, he shot off the couch, hands still working over his cock as he backed you against the wall. His head tilts to the side and you swear you hear him take a deep inhale.
“I could smell you, you know,” he practically growls, the sound of his stroking hand causing you to moan. “Your shampoo, your salty skin…your wet pussy.”
His other hand props up his heaving body as he shamelessly tilts his head down the valley of your breasts dripping with condensation.
“You’re wet even now,” he states shamelessly, his thrusting cock inching ever closer to your stomach. “Dripping just for me.”
You swear your pussy slickens even more and your clit throbs, your thighs obscenely spreading and clenching around your arousal.
“I need to taste you,” he grits, lowering himself to his knees. “Please…let me just have a taste.”
Your jaw slackens at the sight of him knelt between your legs, his hand trailing up your damp leg as his other hand continues its sloppy strokes. Your aching nipples press against the scratchy towel and you moan at the feeling. His fingers grip your trembling thigh as his head dips downward, his hot breath fanning on your legs despite the mask. Your towel parts at the movement, a sliver of your inner thigh peaking out. A groan shudders out of him as his forehead drags up your thigh, his masked face inching the towel further apart. Your pussy clenches and you couldn’t help but moan at the hot arousal oozing out of your center.
“Oh my god,” he hisses, wedging his cheek against your inner thigh and tilting his masked mouth towards your aching pussy. “I can feel you through my mask.”
You spread your legs even further and your towel falls completely open, half of his head covered by the open flap. Your other hand finds his shoulder and his muscle tenses under your grip. Before you could blink, his hand gripping your thigh brushes your swollen pussy, inciting a sharp gasp from your heaving chest.
“So wet,” he marveled, his masked lips moving against the apex of your thighs. “You’re incredible, baby.”
His finger circles your entrance, teasing you before plunging into your weeping pussy. Yelping aloud, you practically grind down on his finger and unknowingly onto his masked face. He moans aloud, his hot mouth moving against your clit even through his mask. His body rocks against you, the sound of his labored strokes egging you on. Hooking your leg onto his shoulder, your head falls back as a wave of pleasure crashes over. Adding another finger, he thrusts and crooks his fingers just so, coaxing a heady moan out of you.
“You taste like honey, oh my god,” he moans, practically rutting his face against your pussy. “I can’t-I need to feel you.”
You whine at the feeling of his fingers pulling out of you, your pussy clenching around the newfound emptiness.
“Why did-” you stutter around your words as his mouth latches onto your clit, his tongue working against your swollen bud. His mouth was on you. Without any barrier. Your thighs seize and your other hand grips the back of his head, your towel falling open completely. All at once, he grabs the underneath of your ass with one arm, guiding your other leg to wrap around his shoulders and lifting you to his mouth. His loud moan vibrates against you as his tongue laps at your center, tracing your swollen folds and delving beyond your entrance. Your hips twitch as you unabashedly grind down on his face, moaning with abandon. Your fingers delve into the base of his neck, creeping past the seam of his mask and into his curls. He doesn’t seem to notice, his body shaking with want as he pulls you down into him. The sound of his slick cock is enough to make you plead under your breath, your pussy seizing with need.
“Please,” you moan, your hips meeting his mouth at a dizzying speed. “I’m almost…I’m almost there.”
Spiderman moans against you and reaches his hand around you, fingers eagerly rubbing your throbbing clit. Pleasure rips through you, your mouth opening in a silent moan. Your body shakes and his mouth continues working against you, milking you through your orgasm. Your vision spots as your legs clamp around his head, arousal gushing out of you. He laps it up with ease, moaning at the dripping release on his tongue.
“Perfect, absolutely perfect,” he says, muffled by your trembling thighs.
Before you could catch your breath, his arm around your middle tightens and holds you as he stands with ease. You squeal as he stalks over to the couch, placing you on the plush cushions all while lazily stroking his leaking cock. You place your hands in between your legs, steadying yourself as your release drips out of you and onto the couch. Your breasts heave as you take him in, your head now level with his straining cock. Lips parting slightly, you glance up at his masked face, pulled up to reveal his lips glistening with your arousal. Your pussy clenches at the sight, thighs spreading and hips rutting eagerly against the couch. His lenses train your movement and he strokes his thumb over the tip of his cock.
“And you’re still wet,” he marvels, stepping even closer to you. His cock thrusts into his hand and you could feel the heat radiating off of him, his length just a few inches away. One long stroke and his cock could grace your lips. Your pussy thrums at the thought and you lick your lips absentmindedly.
“You want my cock,” he almost laughs, his strokes beginning to slip away from his hand. “Of course you do. God, I think you’re made for me.”
You preen at his words, your pussy dampening at the thought of his cock between your lips. You wanted him. You wanted him in your mouth, in between your legs, everywhere. A whine escapes you and you grab his lower thighs, dragging him towards you as you testingly lick up his hardened length. He tenses as your touch, his hand pausing at the base of his cock. You glance up at him, his mouth slightly agape in pleasurable shock. Teasingly, you circle your tongue around his throbbing head before popping it in your mouth and sucking hard. His hips buck against you, his length slipping past your lips and hitting the back of your throat in his haste.
“Shit, oh my god,” he curses, hips trembling as he starts to pull out of you. “I’m sorry, I just-“
You cut him off by slapping his hand away from the base of his cock and licking down his length, tongue catching on a vein pulsing with need. A heady moan tears out of him, catching painfully on his chest as his hands dig into your scalp.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hands guiding you up and down his throbbing cock. “Baby, you take me so perfect. I can’t stop.”
You moan as you hollow your cheeks, your cries vibrating against his leaking cock. Your hand comes up to the base of his shaft, deftly stroking and running your thumb along a raised vein. He tenses against you and his thrusts grow sloppy, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, your eyes watering as he moans at the feeling of your throat constricting around him. Your other hand trails down your heaving stomach, dipping into your sensitive pussy. Arousal gushes out of you as he practically fucks your mouth, groaning with each thrust.
“Oh my fuck,” he curses, his head thrown back as he grips your hair even tighter. His hips buck against your mouth unabashedly and your hips grind down on your hand in return, desperately chasing release.
An obscene moan escapes you as you flick your throbbing clit, your arousal coating your hand. It’s your moan that tips him over the edge, his release pouring down your eager throat trembling with desire. You struggle to breathe as his hot release fills your mouth, leaking beyond your lips as his thrusts become lazy. Your hips continue grinding on your hand as his cock pops from your mouth, humming as you swallow his salty release. His mouth opens in awe as you lick your lips, your pussy clenching onto your pumping fingers.
“Look at you,” he preens, his hand finding your jaw. His other hand pulls his mask down, hiding his mouth once more. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, dragging it slowly downward to expose your lower teeth. “You can’t help but touch yourself.”
You open your mouth to respond but words die in your throat as he turns you around suddenly, pushing you onto all fours and pressing your face down into the couch. You moan at the sudden rush of air against your wet pussy, your arousal dripping out of you and onto the plush cushion below. He hisses aloud, running his hand down your spine and pushing your chest down even further. Your ass curves toward him, your thighs spread in anticipation.
“Please,” you beg, the couch muffling your moans.
His other hand grips your ass and spreads you even further, the lewd sound sending heat slithering down your spine. The heat of his heaving body presses against you as his fingers reach between your legs and spreads your weeping folds. You gasp at the feeling of him playing with your arousal, fingers scissoring around your lips and flicking against your throbbing clit. You push yourself against him, offering your pussy for the taking.
“Oh my fuck,” he groans and you could practically hear him swallow. “This can’t be real, this pussy is unreal.”
You feel his heat before his cock reaches you, his hard length slipping over your slit. His tip thrusts against your clit and you moan into the couch, gripping the cushion in return. Both of his hands reach up to grip your hips, pulling you toward him to meet each thrust. Your arousal leaks onto his moving cock and coats his shaft with slickened heat. The sound is lewd enough for you to grind your ass into him and you moan when his tip slips past your entrance by accident. Taking this moment, you push yourself onto him, your sopping pussy practically swallowing him whole. He groans so loud that his timber shakes through you, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your clit. You push yourself even further, moaning as arousal oozes out of you. It wasn’t until you were fully seated on his cock that you took a deep breath, your mouth open in a ragged pant. He is unnaturally still, his cock twitching from within you the only traceable movement.
“Spidey?” you question, starting to turn your head towards him.
“Turn…around,” he grinds out, his voice an octave deeper than before. “Now.”
He rocks his cock testingly when you don’t turn around immediately. Your pussy clamps down on him, your walls eagerly clenching onto his hard length. He pulls himself fully out of you before slamming back into you without abandon. Your mouth opens in a silent moan as your head buries itself into the couch, your legs shaking as he pounds into you.
“I can’t breathe, fuck,” he curses, his hands gripping your ass and tilting you towards his moving cock. “Don’t turn around.”
Before you could protest, one of his hands leaves your ass and something falls to the side of your head. His groans slightly muffled by his mask are suddenly amplified, his breathing ragged and whiny. Your head slightly turns, eyes focusing on his forgotten mask strewn on the couch. You gasp aloud, your chest caving in as you stare at his mask. You wanted so badly to turn around and meet his gaze as he stroked the deepest parts of you.
“Head down,” he grits and you moan at the sound of his naked voice laced with need. You greedily push your hips back, yelping at the depth of his thrusts. Your hands clutch the couch as he somehow pounds into you even harder, his hot breath fanning across your arched back. His hand traced down your spine and circle around the back of your neck, pushing your face even further into the couch.
“Oh my god,” you moan, your voice muffled by the cushions pressing into your face. Tears stream from your strained eyes and soak the couch below you. Your legs shake as he moves within you relentlessly, his moans bringing you to the edge of your orgasm.
“Fuck, this pussy,” he moans, fisting his hand in your damp hair. His hips twitch and flick at the perfect angle, hitting a spot within you so deep that you sob. “Can’t believe it’s mine.”
His words torture you as more heat pools out of you and your walls twitch in response, causing him to hiss in return.
“Gripping me so good,” he growls. “I need you closer, fuck.”
Before you could process, he grabbed the back of your neck and wrapped his other hand around your torso, yanking you up against his chest. The hand around your neck wraps around your front while the other drags you up and down on his hard cock. You can’t even manage to moan aloud, your mouth open in disbelief as he pounds into you, the new angle stretching you beyond belief. Your body twitches at the feeling of your body against his, your damp body moving against his nylon clad torso. His broad thighs open your legs even more as he practically impales you on his cock, moaning with every thrust. His hand bracing your neck drags down your chest and latches onto your heaving breast. You practically shove your breast into his hand, moaning as his fingers circle and twist your aching nipple.
“Fuck baby,” he groans, his face dipping to your neck and placing an open mouth kiss on your pulse. You sob and tilt your neck towards him, his curls brush against your neck as he licks up the column of your throat. “You’re made for me.”
He practically lifts you off his cock fully before slamming you down, your pussy twitching with need. Your mixed arousal leaks out of you, the lewd sound enough to make your legs shake. His hand circling your breast snakes down to the apex of your thighs, finding your clit with ease. The first touch of his fingers is enough to tip you over the edge as your orgasm roars through you. Your vision blurs as your mouth opens in a silent moan, your body convulsing with pleasure. You feel him moving within you, his thrusts growing labored and sloppy.
“Fuck…I’m-” he moans into your neck as his cock twitches and spills into you. Your head lolls to the side as he pushes his leaking cock into you, arousal spills out from your conjoined bodies. His chest heaves from behind you and both of you pant in unison, your body melting into his. Your eyes focus on the ceiling above and your head begins to move without thought.
“Spidey-”
“Peter.”
You blink, confused at the sudden admission. You want to turn your head fully and look at the man whose cock was still buried within you. Your body trembled with the need to look into his eyes, to see what color they were or if they crinkled around the edges.
His hand meets your chin, pulling your face fully towards him. Your eyes trail up his torso, across his clenched chin and flushed cheeks, his broad nose, his eyebrows framing his brown eyes laced with black. You gape at the sight, your hand reaching up to his cheekbone. His eyes close as his face nuzzles into your hand.
“Are you sure about this…Peter?”
His eyes shoot open, now fully brown and trained on you. A small smile filters across his face.
“I’ve never been so sure before.”
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