my fav sub! peter parker writer, l owe u my life.
So I had an idea after reading your fleshlight headcanon..
Reader and Peter have been together a while, but Peter just can't last that long during sex. Reader doesn't care, even finds it flattering, but Peter wants to up his game.
So after talking to reader about it, they suggest edging, so he can learn how to hold it. Handjob perhaps? I just love how well you write pathetic and desperate Peter.
Love love love your work!!
Thank you for the love anon 🫶 and the baller request 🤘🏻
Edging Headcanons - Peter Parker x Fem!Reader (18+)
Note: 18+ again because that’s all I write 🤷🏻♀️
He had been more frustrated than usual when it came to sex
Don’t get him wrong, he has an amazing time, and he always finishes - but that’s the issue. He finishes too fast
He hates it. His spidey senses make it so he’s feeling everything at 1000% so the second your mouth is on him or he’s inside of you, he’s done with less than ten thrusts.
It’s embarrassing. He wants to spend more time with you, but your guys’ sex sessions last like five minutes at most.
He tried to hold off one night, using as much strength as he could, but he only lasted a minute longer than usual. He burst in frustrated tears as he came down from his high, muttering out “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I can’t last. I feel so stupid!”
You let him cry on your lap as you raked your fingers through his hair, offering him as much comfort as possible.
“No, it’s not. I hate it. Our sex only lasts a couple minutes. I don’t even get to take care of you. I’m just… done instantly. How do I fix that?”
The idea that came to mind was helping him maintain a tolerance.
“Edging works,” you offered.
“What’s that?” His big doe brown eyes stare up at you.
“You get close to coming and I pull away. It lets you hold off.”
He bit his lip, gears turning in his mind as he weighed the options. Finally he nodded. “Yeah, if it’s gonna make me last longer, I wanna try it.”
He thought it would be much easier than it actually is. Then you denied him for the first time and he was so deeply begging for him to reverse his decision.
After the first couple times, it gets easier. Not easy. But easier.
He wants to do it on a schedule. Or at least for a certain amount of time. He’s thinking of it from a very science heavy mind.
So almost every night, on the dot at 10 when he gets home from patrol, he strips off his suit, lays back on his bed, and starts a timer on his phone for fifteen minutes.
He thinks that’s a good amount of time to up his tolerance but then your hand wraps around him and he feels that spark in his gut that tells him he won’t last long.
He doesn’t, but you pull away at the very last second when he’s moaning, shaking, pleading that he’s “gonna cum, please let me cum.” You pull back and he’s thrusting into the air, searching for your tightness again. His face scrunches up in frustration. Whines burst from his throat, reminiscent of sobs.
“You gotta last the whole time,” you remind him. “And then you can cum.”
Your voice is silky soft as you whisper above him. It grounds him, urges him to keep going.
Every time you pull away from him, he gets closer and closer to tears, until by minute ten, he’s fully crying, tears streaming down his cheeks in rivers.
“Please,” he’s begging loudly, unaware of his neighbors. You thank god May is out for the night. “Please, god, help me. Let me cum please.”
“You have five minutes left.”
He sobs at that. He’s sure he can’t do it. He’ll implode. He can’t open his eyes to look at you or he’ll cum on the spot. You sitting above him, in nothing but his t-shirt, hair swooping over your dark gaze, hands drenched in his precum as you pump him up and down would be enough to send him over the edge instantly. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t already with the sounds his cock is making in your hands - wet, sucking sounds that feel so overly pornographic.
“I can’t make five minutes. I can’t. I can’t do it. Please, please, please, let me cum!”
“Shhh,” you hush, playing with his tip. “You’re gonna wake up the neighbors.”
“I don’t care,” he whimpers. “Please, I can’t do it anymore. It’s too much!”
“Aw, is my baby too sensitive? Too much for your pretty cock?”
He groans. That’s even worse. Your dirty words make his hips move on their own accord. His thighs shake. “That’s not helping,” he whines.
“You’ve got it, baby. Only a couple more minutes and you get to cum.”
“Please, I wanna do it now.”
“If you cum now, you’re not getting anything for the next week.”
That shuts him right up. The last thing he wants to do is disappoint you, so if he has to lay there and be tortured by you, he’ll do it.
When the fifteen minutes is up, on the dot, he cums harder than he ever has in his life. It nearly makes him black out with how much his body shakes.
He lays there, completely fucked out, sweating and trembling, when your hand pushes the hair out of his face and caresses his cheek.
“You did so good baby. You made it.”
“You have it on the schedule for tomorrow night again, you know that right?”
His eyes nearly pop out of his skull. “Fuck. I can’t do that again.”
“Do you wanna see if you can last longer now?” You tease. “Maybe you won’t have to keep going.” You know that’s a lie.
But either way, through his exhaustion, he pounces on you, needy to prove himself.
