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lxkeee · 3 months

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HEAVEN AND BACK !

—Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor's Mom! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Romance

Warnings: Love at first sight, fast paced romance and mentions of domestic ab*se.

Notes: to the anon who requested the platonic Alastor x Mom! Reader it would be part of this:)

Synopsis: In which Alastor's mother went down to hell to oversee the hotel's progress and met the king of hell.

Word count: 4.6k words

PART TWO | NAVIGATION

[Y/n] lived a good and honest life, a simple housewife with one son. After finally separating with her abusive husband, her life with her son, Alastor had become better. Alastor promised that he'll support her through his radio hosting, the boy has become quite popular amongst the folks—with his wits and charm, he was able to make a reputation for himself and earn money better for him and her.

[Y/n] was finally happy, proud of what she and her son have accomplished. She doesn't have to worry about her ex-husband coming home to hurt her or her son.

After the divorce, not a few weeks later, her husband was found dead with several of his body parts missing. She and her son were questioned about it but nothing could connect them to the crime and was proven innocent.

Alastor comforted her about it, promising to protect her if the killer ever hurt her. Which calmed her down as the whole situation did affect her, despite her harboring hatred towards her ex-husband, she felt bad he got murdered in a brutal way possible.

Peace and happiness didn't last long for her unfortunately, some fight happened in the city when she was out for an errand and she got in the middle of the crossfire, getting herself shot twice—on her shoulder and one in her stomach. She bled to death.

[Y/n] briefly remembers a tall black haired man walking towards her, black wings on his back while carrying a large golden scythe on his hand.

“[y/n] [l/n], age is 44 years old, destination is heaven.” the man says with an amused tone in his voice. A smile found its way to her lips, this must be death then? I am sorry Alastor, I can no longer watch over you. She thought sadly, and then suddenly darkness.

[Y/n] woke up with a gasp, her eyes staring at the bright blue skies. Blinking, disoriented about what just happened. She looked at her side to see clouds, clouds everywhere. Even the ground she's lying on is clouds.

“Where... Am I...?” she mutters as she sits, finally turning around to see the gates that are shining ever so brightly, the radiant rays of the sun reflecting against the golden gate.

“Am I... In heaven...?” she asked herself softly, eyes widening as she remembers what happened. The fight in the city, getting shot—twice, bleeding to death.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, as the reality that she died finally settled in. “No, no, no, no, no!” she said to herself, her hands covering her mouth to stop herself from crying. Her smile now lowering, already tired of keeping it up. She was the one who taught her son to always smile in any situation, but this...? She can't keep it up any longer. So she cried, hysterically. Her cries echoing throughout the skies.

She's dead, that means she won't see her son ever again. Her son will be alone, she can't be there for him!

It took a while for her to finally calm down, with a shaky breath she got off the cloudy grounds and approached the gate. An angel sitting behind the counter at the side of the gate is what she saw.

“Welcome to heaven, can I get your name please?” the man says with a smile, [y/n] stood there nervously, “[y/n] [l/n].” she says softly and watched as the male flipped through his thick book, “[y/n] Alberich, [y/n] Gunnhildr, [y/n] Lawrence [y/n] Kreideprinz, [y/n] Ragnvindr...” the angel mutters as he flips through his book, [y/n] stood awkwardly as she watches him.

The angel's finger finally stopped at a name and his smile became brighter, “Aha! There it is, [y/n] [l/n]... Please, come inside. I Saint Peter, officially welcome you to heaven.” the angel also known as Saint Peter says with a smile, the gates of heaven opening up for her.

[Y/n] nodded and hesitantly walked to the gate, passing by it and finally got inside the heavenly city.

Her new life after death. She hopes her son will join her here when his time comes, for now, she'll enjoy her new life.

It has been a few years, decades even. Still no sign of Alastor, she wonders if Alastor was gifted with a long life, something she didn't have? After getting inside heaven, they are not allowed to check up on their remaining loved ones on earth as they are not allowed to and [y/n] respected that, she'll wait for her son to join her here. She does miss her son, she wonders how he's doing, especially after her death. She can't imagine the pain he felt after her passing. She wonders if he's in purgatory if that place ever exists, she prays that her beloved son isn't in hell. Not her Alastor.

During her time here, she somehow became a well respected angel, becoming a seraphim angel and helping around heaven, overseeing important matters around the heavenly realm. [Y/n] befriended another seraphim angel named Emily, the girl is wonderful to be around with! Very positive and such a kind girl. [Y/n] enjoys having her around.

Recently, a secret has just been revealed during a court meeting with hell's princess, the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar, [y/n] read about him and she believes that the angel didn't do anything wrong, just misunderstood but this belief is something she keeps to herself, in fear of the others throwing her out for that small reason.

All throughout the trial Charlotte Morningstar expressed valid arguments, showing that souls can really improve their ways.

It was revealed that the exorcists were going down to hell to cleanse them, a sugar coated word for killing. The fact that Sera agreed to it was ridiculous but [y/n] can't do anything about it, she is just a mortal soul after all. She can't argue with the high seraphim and risk herself getting thrown out of heaven.

[Y/n] can only pray that Charlie's plan will work.

After that meeting, [y/n] can sensed that high ranking angels trust on Sera significantly lowered.

[Y/n] and Emily spent most of their free time researching, finding ways to help Charlie achieve her dreams for her people.

It has been a day since the cleansing started, [y/n] was in the seraphim office together with Sera and Emily doing important paperwork when suddenly a bright light fills the room and out emerged a familiar snake they [y/n] saw during the court meeting when Charlie was showing Angel Dust, she could briefly remember this snake man to be one of Angel Dust's and Charlie's friend. The one who announced he'll have sex with everyone at the club, she definitely didn't forget about that. The only difference is that the man's color themes changed.

“Huh? Wha...? Where am I?” he says as he looks around the unfamiliar place.

[Y/n] covers her mouth in disbelief while Emily squeaked beside her, turning around to look at the other two seraphim, Sera was in disbelief, [y/n] can't tell what the older woman is feeling right now.

Turning back to look at the new guest, [y/n] gave the man a small wave and the man gave her an awkward smile while waving back, “Oh... Hello!” he says and [y/n] giggles and Emily squeaks beside her.

“Hi! Welcome to heaven!” Emily cheers, the man's eyes widened. “I'm in heaven...?” he says in disbelief and [y/n] nodded, “Yes, this is heaven and you're currently in the office of the Seraphims. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Pentious or dare I say... Sir Redemptious?” [y/n] says with a small and gentle chuckle, chuckling at her own joke. Emily giggled at the joke while Sera remained flabbergasted.

Sir Pentious blinks in confusion, “You know me?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Emily nodded, a bright smile on her face, “Yes! But it is a long story.” she says with a large smile.

“But first, let us introduce ourselves.” [y/n] says with a small smile, a smile that seems awfully familiar to Sir Pentious but less... Threatening.

[Y/n] clears her throat, “It is an honor to meet you, Sir Pentious. I am [y/n] [l/n] one of the seraphims.” she introduces and Emily follows after, “Hi! I am Emily but you can call me Em, Emmy, Ly... It is a pleasure to meet you!” Emily says excitedly, approaching Sir Pentious' side and admiring him, circling him and taking in his new appearance.

“And this,” [y/n] says, extending her arms towards Sera, “This is Sera, the head Seraphim.” [y/n] says which snapped Sera out of her thoughts. Sera cleared her throat, finally back to her authoritative self.

“Greetings, Sir Pentious. I am Sera, the head Seraphim. I would like to formally welcome you to heaven, I hope you'll enjoy your stay.” Sera says and Emily nodded excitedly while [y/n] just gave a small nod with a gentle smile on her face.

“I'm not dreaming...?” Sir Pentious says in disbelief and [y/n] shook her head, “I can assure you that you are not dreaming right now.”

Emily tilts her head in confusion, finally realizing something. “How come he arrived immediately here and not at the gates...?” she asked and [y/n] hummed, she too was baffled by this, placing a hand on her chin as she began to think.

“Perhaps... He's another Seraphim?” [y/n] asked, snapping her fingers and she smirked as she noticed Sera's eye twitches. Interesting... [Y/n] thought, a subtle smirk on her face, finding the situation interesting.

“How about I show you around? I'll let the grownups handle your stay here.” Emily says, Sir Pentious looked at the girl, “I hope that my egg bois are here.” he says with glassy eyes and Emily let's out a small 'aweee' and patting the back of the man, “I am sure they are here.” Emily says as she pulls the man out of the office.

[Y/n] turned to look at Sera, a mischievous grin on her face. Sera sighs, a frown on her face. “Don't say it.” Sera muttered and [y/n] chuckles, “What...? I am not saying anything yet.” she says with a mischievous tone. Sera rolls her eyes at the woman.

“I was in the wrong, the hotel does work.” Sera says, disbelief that it does. “[y/n]. I want you to go down there and make sure that the hotel runs smoothly.” Sera says and [y/n] blinked, confused on what the woman was planning, “Why me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her smile not leaving her face.

“Just do it.” Sera deadpans and [y/n] shrugs, still has a small smile on her face, “Alright, whatever the boss says.” she shrugs.

“Make sure it runs smoothly but don't tell them he's here, I fear it will influence the sinners. I want them to work hard for it, and work hard for something that they are unsure of.” Sera says, walking out of her table, walking across the room and stood in front of the window, gazing outside the office of the Seraphims.

[Y/n] looked at the woman's back, Sera's wings neatly folded behind her. [Y/n] nodded in agreement, understanding where she's coming from.

“Understood, when shall I start?” [y/n] asked, tilting her head in confusion.

“Next week, let them rebuild the hotel. Do you understand your mission, [y/n]?” Sera says, turning around to look at her, [y/n] kneels down gracefully, a hand over her heart.

“Affirmative.” [y/n] says softly and Sera nodded, “Good.”

[Y/n]'s head peaked through the small gap of Sir Pentious' door as she opens it, her eyes soften as she sees Emily and Sir Pentious talking and multiple egg boys asleep on the bed. Knocking to catch their attention, the two looked at the very tall angel woman standing by the door, a gentle smile on her face.

“Hello, Sir Pent. I hope you're comfortable with your new room. I see that Emi is warming up to you which isn't surprising.” [y/n] giggles and Emily smiles and nodded excitedly.

“Speaking of [y/n], she's like a mom to everyone! She's so nice, I hope you two will get along!” Emily says happily, [y/n] presumes that Emily was talking about other angels before she came inside the room. [Y/n] smiles and gives the two a gentle nod, “That is me, if you have any problem... Feel free to approach me okay?” [y/n] says with a closed eyed smile, Sir Pentious eyes sparkled and a small blush on his cheeks as he could literally feel the gentle warmth of the woman.

[Y/n] just smiles and tilts her head before looking at Emily, “Anyways, I just came to check up on you two on how you two are doing. I'll be leaving now, you two have fun okay?” [y/n] says softly and Emily nodded, “Okay! I'll see you later Miss [y/n]!” Emily says and then Sir Pentious nodded and gave a wave to the woman. The two watched the older and taller woman leave the room.

[Y/n] walks away from Sir Pentious' room, walking past multiple doors that decorated the hallway—these are rooms that souls occupy and sooner, Sir Pentious' room will be upgraded since the man is a seraphim after all.. Entering the elevator, [y/n] presses a button—a button to her floor. The door closes.

[Y/n] sighs as she feels the elevator moving upwards, her mind buzzing with multiple thoughts. Taking mental notes on what to bring for her time in hell, she'll have to oversee the hotel after all.

The door opens, [y/n] steps out of the elevator, walking past by multiple doors (but the doors are much lesser than the floor Sir Pentious was in), these hallways are the rooms of the Seraphims.

Her feet stopped, coming to a halt. Holding the doorknob, the symbol of the doorknob glows, signifying that the owner of the room returned and in turn, and unlocked the door.

Stepping inside, she closes the door behind her. Time to pack.

Timeskip a few days later.

[Y/n] stood at the opposite side of Sera's table, her hands holding her luggage, Sera the high Seraphim sat on her seat looking at the taller woman. Emily standing beside Sera, the smaller girl looked at [y/n] with a slight worried look but still had a smile on her face. [Y/n] is proud that Emily continuously applied her teachings, you're never fully dressed without a smile, as what she always tells the girl.

“Goodluck, Miss [y/n]!” Emily says with a grin on her face, [y/n] chuckles at the girl's enthusiasm and nodded nonetheless.

“Do not disappoint us.” Sera says, [y/n]'s eyes narrowed slightly but her smile never faltered. [Y/n] nodded, a charming tone in her voice, “No promises.” she says with a grin and Sera rolls her eyes and then snaps her fingers, opening a portal for the taller angel.

[Y/n] waved goodbye at the two and stepped into the portal.

The bright blue scenario was replaced with a dark red one, a door was in front of her, a glass tinted door depicting apples and snakes.

Placing down her luggage, she curls up her fingers and then knocks on the door.

Loud knocks were heard against the tinted glass doors of the hotel, the sounds momentarily cutting off the conversation the hotel dwellers were having.

Angel Dust raises his eyebrows as he looks at the door, Husk stopping midway of drying up a freshly cleaned glass. Niffty just resumes cleaning the lobby of the hotel, Vaggie and Charlie were on the couch with Charlie's head on Vaggie's lap, Cherri is passed out drunk on the counter of the mini bar, and Alastor was just grinning as he sat on the cushioned chair.

Getting off Vaggie's lap, Charlie Morningstar walked towards the door, getting a very strong sense of deja vu. Opening it and seeing a very tall smiling angel looking down on her, a familiar angel that she saw when she had the court meeting in heaven, she remembers that this woman stood at the opposite side of Emily. Charlie never got to actually meet her or know her.

“Good eveni—” the angel started but was cut off as Charlie closed the door.

Turning around to look at her friends, a look of disbelief on her face. There's an angel in her front door, there is a SERAPHIM ANGEL IN HER FRONT DOOR.

“Vaggie?” Charlie calls out to her girlfriend nervously, Vaggie gave her a raised eyebrow, “What?” she asked.

“There's a seraphim angel at the door.” Charlie says, pointing towards the door. This promptly made everyone freeze.

“Oh my fucking god... I swear, what do they want this time..?” Angel sighs loudly, Vaggie standing up and getting her angelic weapon.

Charlie took a deep breath and opened the door once more, the same tall angel looking down on her with a gentle smile on her face, “May I speak now?” she asked and Charlie nodded nervously with a smile, the angel laughed, though she is experiencing major deja vu at the moment, “Relax, I am not here to cause trouble. Keep smiling darling, you're never fully dressed without one~!” she says with a giggle and Charlie nervously puts a smile on her face.

“Hi... My name is Charlie and you are...?” Charlie introduces herself shyly, a little flustered. The woman was very gorgeous and... Tall...

The angel shakes the girl's hand enthusiastically, “I know, my name is [y/n], it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Morningstar.” [y/n] says with a giggle but quickly stopping as an angelic spear was pointed at her, Vaggie muttering something in Spanish underneath her breath.

“What is a seraphim angel doing here? Last time I checked, you guys hated us.” Vaggie sneers and [y/n] just smiled, using her pointer finger to push away the spear gently away from her, “Hate you...? No, no, no dearie... It's just Sera, she's... How to say it... An old time bitch.” [y/n] deadpans with a chuckle.

Charlie and Vaggie blinked at her words, in disbelief at how a seraphim can easily say something like that quite easily.

[Y/n] flicked her hand dismissively, “Ugh, I don't like her that much.” she sighs and chuckles, her eyes returning back to look at the two shorter girls.

“Let us forget about her for a moment, the reason I am here is that Sera wanted me to oversee the hotel and keep track if it makes any progress.” [y/n] explained, her pointer finger pointed up as she nodded to herself.

Vaggie narrows her eyes at her but decides not to question it but still held some suspicion of the woman. Vaggie thought that the angel reminds her of someone, but who?

Charlie just looked at the woman, in disbelief that Heaven changed its mind. Though, she too held some slight suspicion but decided not to think too much of it, moving to the side to allow the woman to pass through the tinted glass doors of the hotel.

“Very well then, please come in.” Charlie says and [y/n] gave the girl a curt bow and invited herself in.

[Y/n] admired the interior of the hotel, her eyes sparkling in admiration as she appreciates the design of the building. The interior is filled with so many red, white, gold, and black hues—a contrast to what she was used to in heaven. Charlie closes the door behind them and starts leading the taller woman back to the lobby.

“My, this hotel is very beautiful.” [y/n] says genuinely as she follows the shorter girls as they lead her towards the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel.

Finally arriving at the lobby where the other hotel members were staying, [y/n] surveyed each one of them carefully. The man who resembled a red deer oddly reminded her of someone.

Alastor was quite interested in who the person Charlie was talking to by the door.

His eyes widened, his smile faltering slightly as he saw the woman he's long last seen and the most he has missed.

“Everyone, heaven decided to send someone to oversee the hotel's progress. This is [y/n], she is a seraphim. I hope you treat her with respect.” Charlie says with a small smile. The name makes Alastor's ears ring.

He couldn't stop himself as the words left his lips, “Mother...?” Alastor says with wide eyes and a smile still on his face.

Silence.

Angel Dust's and Husk's jaw dropped. Seeing a new facial reaction of the always smiling man.

[Y/n]'s eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hands, she was right. Why was he here? Why was her beloved son here in hell?

“Alastor...? My sweetie is that you...?” [y/n] asked shakily, her hands trembling, in disbelief.

Alastor hesitantly nodded, nervous. He didn't expect to reunite with her. How can he explain this to her? How can he explain the reason why he ended in hell?

“No fucking way...” Angel Dust muttered, in disbelief.

Tears began to stream down [y/n]'s cheeks as she let go of her luggage and quickly hugged her son, he looked so different.

“My sweet son, it really is you... Why are you here?!” She asked, cupping Alastor's face comfortingly. Alastor avoided her gaze.

“Mother... It has been awhile, I have done things that lead me down here.” Alastor explained calmly, a smile still on his face but he is fighting back tears. He missed her so much, after her death he was miserable. He found out the reason she died and killed the two men who caused her death.

[Y/n]'s eyes soften and she placed a gentle kiss on her son's forehead, Alastor instinctively closing his eyes at the contact. Warmth, he forgot what comforting warmth felt like.

“Now, now... I'm sure it couldn't be that bad...?” [y/n] says with a small chuckle and failing to notice the other hotel members giving each other a side eye.

Well... It was fun being an overlord. Alastor thought to himself as he took a deep breath and began to explain it to his mother, the reason why he's in hell.

“ALASTOR [L/N] WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME DO YOU MEAN YOU KILLED PEOPLE?!” [Y/n] seethes as she chases after her son, holding her shoe in her hand. Alastor trying to save his own life from his seething mother.

“Mother I can explain—!”

The others just watched as the angelic woman chased the most terrifying demon they know around the hotel.

“This is so fucking funny.” Cherri mutters beside Angel Dust, Husk having a smirk on his face as he watches his boss getting chased around by his mother.

“Well... I hope they'll stop soon or dad will come down to see what the ruckus is about.” Charlie says, nervous that they are causing too much ruckus. She knows her dad needs the quiet time to make his rubber duckies.

Lucifer was in his room writing something on his desk, he just finished making a rubber duckie sometime ago and now he's currently writing plans for the hotel.

Well... Trying to.

His eye twitched as he heard the loud ruckus happening downstairs. With a sigh, he lets go of his fountain pen. Standing up from his seat, curious on what is happening downstairs, he left his room and went downstairs.

What the king of hell didn't expect to see was the annoying radio demon getting scolded by... An angel? And good lord, she's... Tall. Though, he couldn't see her face as her back was facing him.

“I thought I raised you better than this? Good heavens, I thought you were better than this?” the woman sobs and leans against the radio demon, sobbing into his shoulder while Alastor hesitantly comforts her. Lucifer was trying not to laugh as the radio demon gave him the middle finger.

“Who's this?” Lucifer asked and his daughter nervously approached him, “Well, this is [y/n] and heaven thought it would be a good idea to send someone to oversee our progress of the hotel.” Charlie explains and Lucifer's eyebrows are raised in confusion, confused on what changed their mind.

“I am truly sorry mother, it won't happen again,” Alastor says softly, still smiling while his mother lets go of him and flicks the radio demon's forehead making the taller man yelp in pain.

Charlie smiled and clapped her hands together, “Miss [y/n], this is my father and you might as well know him as Lucifer Morningstar.” Charlie says and the woman turns around to look at them.

And oh my devil, none of these thoughts are in the bible.

Lucifer thought as he finally took a good look at the very tall angel. She's gorgeous. Very gorgeous. The white dress she was wearing perfectly captured her figure, complimenting her skin. Her halo glowing above her head like the rays of the sun shining down on her. Absolutely divine. Lucifer blinks, trying to comprehend the beauty of the woman in front of him.

Angel Dust looking at him with a smirk, without him realizing.

[Y/n]'s eyes sparkled, quickly shoving Alastor away as she approached the shorter man, “Oh my stars, really? It's an honor to meet you, I've read about you and quite frankly I don't believe you got the justice you deserved.” [y/n] explains, she has to kneel down as her neck was starting to hurt at looking down.

Lucifer's eyes widened, surprised that an angel held him in such high regard.

“Wait... Huh??” Lucifer says in disbelief making the woman chuckle, and goodness, even her laugh sounds so beautiful.

“I am grateful that you gave us free will, if it weren't for you... Humans couldn't control their own fate, their own actions and for that, thank you.” she says sincerely and unexpectedly, a single tear streamed down Lucifer's cheek. Nobody really cared to say their thanks to him, he just assumed that humanity hated him for his actions, as heaven hated him for it. To see and hear someone say their thanks to him for the first time, may have healed some wounds he was desperately trying to heal with a bandaid.

The angel panicked when she saw the tear, “Oh my stars! Did I offend you?! Oh gosh, I didn't mean to.”

Lucifer began to chuckle and laugh. Amused at the woman's personality.

Charlie wonders if her dad finally went insane.

“Since when did angels be so nice to me?” Lucifer asked in-between chuckles, finally calming down as he offered his hand for a handshake.

“My name's Lucifer, darling. It's a pleasure to meet you...?” Lucifer says with a toothy grin but his charm and confidence were replaced by shyness and embarrassment as the angel opted to kiss his knuckles instead.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lucifer. I am [y/n], a seraphim angel.” she says with a smile, almost smirking, her tone almost sensual.

Lucifer was flabbergasted, flustered. Blinking animatedly, his mind is still trying to comprehend what just happened. So many things are happening at once, the warmth of his cheeks, the loud thumping of his heart against his own ribcage, he prays that she couldn't hear it.

Angel Dust nudges Charlie, giving the girl a knowing smirk. Charlie just gave him a confused look, unsure what he meant, saying something to angel along the lines of, my dad's reaction is valid, have you seen her?

The apple doesn't really fall far from the tree, Angel Dust thought as he cackles in amusement.

Alastor's eyes narrowed slightly at the interaction. Vaggie cautious at the radio demon's reaction.

Well, this is interesting. Husk thought to himself, already prepared of the chaos that's going to happen now with an additional member of the hotel.

TAGLIST:

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2K notes · View notes

nouearth · 4 months

Text

double-stuffed.

peter parker x male reader x jaime reyes.

summary: nothing bonds two men who hate each other more than a sloppy mouth, and a sloppy hole.

wc: 13.1k. genre: smut. warnings: college au, friends with benefits, top!peter, tasm!peter, jealous!peter top!jaime, jealous!jaime, bottom!reader, threesome, rough-sex, blowjobs, handjobs, double-penetration, dirty-talk, muscle worship, body worship, fingering, ass-eating, mouth-fucking, dry-humping, breeding, eiffel-tower, filthy smut, loads and loads of cum, peter and jaime are rivals, reader is a slut, and reader also has a stretched out and sloppy hole by the end!

notes: how tf did i just write 13k of pure smut. ok well, not pure smut since i added some backstory, BUT. i wrote a lot, like??? hello??? someone check up on me!!!

The cold air breached through the cracked-open window in Peter’s bedroom. It’d been the winter season for months, yet snow had become a rarity with every passing year. It was much appreciated when you saw the ice crystals accumulate and cover the ground until it felt like you were practically walking on crunchy clouds.

Though, despite the weather, it didn’t stop classes from continuing unfortunately.

Another gust of wind blew into his bedroom, and you pressed closer into Peter’s body. Legs entangled with his longer limbs, and he’d bring your front leg over his hip for extra comfort, simultaneously providing himself another opportunity of friction to thaw out his goosebumps.

“Pete…” You muttered into the kiss. It came out in hesitant sputters, breathless as his hips began moving against yours in a lazy yet fruitful pressure.

You weren’t sure when it happened; Peter had an incredibly poisoning effect on you that blurred time altogether; but your jeans were tossed to the corner, leaving you in your sweater and briefs. He was dressed, or rather undressed, similarly; a blue sweater that contrasted your beige, except his pants were unbuckled down to his knees.

“Why did you open the window? I’m cold.” He muttered back, detaching his lips from yours to settle onto his second favorite part of your body—your neck.

Peter was observant. He had catalogued sections of your skin that would honor his ears the sweet and delectable sounds of your moans from many times prior.

Simply kissing your neck wasn’t enough. Licking multiple stripes beneath the underside of your jaw made you stiffen and swallow down any potential sounds. It was a leap forward, but you were resistant to him—at the very least, you did well in feigning it—and he’d start suckling to hammer ice picks at the barricade that had seemingly repelled all of his actions.

“Would help if you had your pants back on, you know—“ You answered after several long moments. Your mind had pivoted to Peter’s pair of lips by now, closing your eyes to the sloppy sounds of his markings as you breathed in the scent of his shampoo.

When he felt a swallow, your adam’s apple bobbing for aid—to catch some sort of breath—Peter could see the barricade crumble, feel his liability in infecting you with desire and lust as he felt a tent forming in your briefs. And he’d bite a mark into your flesh to let you out of your misery, drawing out the poison with several hard sucks until it was bruising. A gasp and multiple drowsy moans of his name heightened his senses and Peter felt his ears redden with heat from how absolutely devouring you sounded.

You felt his hand slip under your sweater and made its way towards your chest, pinching and circling your nubs with gentle fingers.

“Besides,” There was a familiar heat being stimulated with every grind of his hips, every tweeze of your nipples, and you’d thank Peter in between with a motion of your own. A languid kiss accompanied as you pressed intimately close, slowing the eagerness of Peter’s movements as both of your bulges collectively rubbed and throbbed when direct contact was being made. “Doesn’t seem like the cold is affecting you much.”

He chuckled at your tease. “Yeah? I’m just getting started too—“ The same hand that was thawing the goosebumps off your chest cascaded back to its rightful place on your thigh, then to the cheeks of your covered ass before he playfully squeezed and slapped in turn.

You let out a laugh, pushing yourself back onto his palms when he’d begun kneading at your flesh. His eyes were focused on your bitten lips, clearly isolating any more noises that would make his ears burst into flames if they hadn’t already.

But he was selfish. He needed more of you.

Whenever you pushed back, he pulled you forward, rocking you into him—into the tent forming stubbornly in his boxers. One hand rested on Peter’s cheek and there would be moments where you’d ever so gently cupped the plumpest section of his skin when you rolled into him just right.

“Fuck, Pete—“ It started off innocent with your hips moving back slowly, languidly into him as if you had no intentions of finishing what you started.

You were spellbound. He tantalized every ounce of thought until he had become the sole proprietor of your brain, leasing you a vitality that you could only repay in pure and absolute pleasure.

“Shit—“ The collaborative movements had enough momentum to coincidentally shift his boxers until the slit aligned with the tucking of his erection, and with one more roll of your hips, you drew Peter’s weighty cock out from the opening.

“Keep doing that… fuck. My dick’s out.” He was desperate in his demands and equally distracted as he constantly switched gazes between the way your clothed bulge rubbed against his hard-on, and the parting of your swollen lips, to which he immediately seized the chance to slip his tongue inside of you.

He explored you in every way possible, licking inside of your mouth then pursuing your wet muscle in a brief yet sloppy chase, swiveling his tongue around yours until you surrendered into his hunger. His hands remained on your ass, squeezing and kneading at your cheeks as you continued to hump him—continued to hump his cock, your bulge pressing intimidate against his as Peter’s erection was sandwiched between your bodies, providing no window of escape.

“Wait,” You gave him a slight push on the chest when you familiarized yourself with the golden hour streaming past his window, and somehow Peter took your movements to maneuver you on top of him, sitting you on his lap. He kicked off the remaining length of his pants while you searched the surface of his bed for your phone, scoring when you felt a familiar weight in your hand.

You clicked open to the lock screen as Peter’s hands continued roaming free around your body, practically fucking himself into the barrier that were your tight briefs, and sighed. “Class is in thirty.”

“And? You can make it in time, or skip class? Fuck—I’m close…“ He reasoned and pleaded with his eyes, almost comically desperate.

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head, pressing your lips into a firm line as you grounded yourself to falter Peter’s hips to a disgruntled pause. “It’s a twenty-minute walk from here. And I don’t want to keep my partner from waiting! We were supposed to meet up earlier—“

“You seriously giving me blue balls right now? That’s a first—“ He grumbled, unwilling to let you go as his grasp tightened around your hips. It only loosened when you pressed a kiss to his lips again, whispering a soft apology in the delicacy of it.

“Sorry… I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

You lifted yourself off of the bed to Peter’s dismay and re-adjusted the tent in your briefs, slipping into your jeans after.

“Partner?” Peter’s curiosity was piqued, only because his courses rarely had group projects beyond the usual lab-work. “Is he nice? She? They?”

He followed after you, begrudgingly rolling off of his bed when the mere mention of your classes reminded him of his own deadlines approaching. He tucked himself back inside of his boxers. Though, a large tent greatly remained.

“He. You might know him? He told me he was in a couple of my classes before then, and those were all the same ones you and I were in.” Your eyes scanned for your books, collecting it into your arms when you found them, then for your backpack after.

Peter gave your shoulder a small nudge and you turned back, finding your backpack hanging by his fingers. “Yeah? Who?”

“Thanks,” You took your bag from him, swinging it onto your shoulder, and then pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek. “Uh… Jaime! Jaime Reyes.”

“Jaime…?” Peter paused in thought, then frowned as if he ate one of your favorite sour candies. “That… asshole in Film Studies?”

He followed you from behind as you exited his bedroom and headed towards the entrance of the apartment.

“You remember him? I don’t think I even remember what we watched in that class, to be honest. Was he that bad?”

“Yeah… Always dismissed my critical theories like they were completely wrong. Remember how we were randomly assigned a partner and we’d be stuck with them throughout the semester? He was mine! Peer-reviewing was hell with him… ” Peter bitterly recounted the memories as you listened.

There was a puzzled expression on your face that Peter found himself half-humored by, but your gaze snapped into a bright realization, as if the lightbulb above your head had exploded, the more he explained.

“Oh, yeah…! You guys were constantly going at each other when we would do those Socratic seminars. Thank god for you two, otherwise I would’ve been the one debating or asking questions.” You half-joked, but cleared your throat when there was little to no amusement in Peter’s demeanor.

“Well, maybe he thought you were cute.” You attempted to reason. “And that was his way of flirting? Or maybe he was intimidated by another smarty-pants in the class and he was over-compensating.” You snorted, holding onto the wall as you slipped your shoes on a foot at a time.

“Maybe…?” He sighed, observing you as his erection took a painful lap in its journey back to being flaccid. “Don’t take it out on me if you get a migraine because of him.”

“Pft, I deal with you on a daily basis. I can handle anything.” You finalized your outfit with a coat and a scarf around your neck. “I’ll be back!”

“Wait—“ Before you exited, he pulled you back to him by your wrist, grinning. “You got something in your eye.”

“I don’t feel anything—“ Peter took ahold of your cheeks and cradled them in his palms—plump flesh that were warm enough to convince you to skip your class for today and make a blanket fort with him instead. You smiled as he leaned close, centimeters from touching his nose with yours, and you could feel your heart weighing heavier than usual, swelling with ease the longer Peter gazed into your eyes.

And somehow, it didn’t even burst when he abruptly blew into your eye, obnoxiously laughing. “Now you do.”

“Asshole.” You elbowed his arm, his laugher quickly infecting yours, and you bid him goodbye with a peck on the lips. “Do your homework!”

Taking a painful glance at his desk from the entrance hall, piles of textbooks, notebooks, and sticky notes mocked and taunted Peter of his impending deadlines.

He groaned, dragging his feet back into his bedroom and towards his desk. “Can’t promise that.”

There was indeed something way worse than having blue balls.

“You’re still up?” Peter stepped out of his bedroom with a scratchy yawn. The dryness of his throat never failed to rouse him awake around 3 AM. His tousled hair bounced with every sluggish step towards the water filter, pressing a kiss to your cheek mid-way.

“When am I not…” Your voice was dull and monotonous as you remained fixated on the screen of your laptop, typing away at a filled word document. You had a late reaction to his kiss, turning towards Peter for a kiss on the lips instead—a reward for your hard-work for the day—but he’d already left to chug a glass of water down.

“I thought you were finished with your project by now?” He filled another cup of water before properly joining you on the couch.

Peter’s appearance for the night alerted you to clear your mind and take a breather. Your laptop was shoved off to the side and his arm immediately opened to bring you closer. You could feel the warmth of his gaze glazing over you with worry as he passed his cup of water into your hand.

“Yeah…” You sighed, drinking the lukewarm liquid in tired sips. “Turns out we needed to write an essay per topic, not include the three we’ve chosen in one collective essay.” When you finished explaining, you gulped the entire glass down, and set it on the coaster.

“That’s… tough, and annoying, and I’m sorry.” You and Peter laughed as lethargy devastated him of the vocabulary needed to properly sympathize for you, but his presence was more than enough. He rubbed your shoulder, giving one side an affectionate squeeze as a simple act of support while you leaned into him. “What’s Jaime doing?”

“The same thing. He’s coming over in the afternoon, so we can hopefully finish the rest.” You could feel Peter stiffen. If he had a switch on his body, it was flipped and glued to defense mode because as much as he hated to admit it, he was intimidated by Jaime.

“Be nice, okay? I mean, what—we were sophomores? We were all figuring ourselves out early on.”

“Hm.”

Peter was intimidated by how much time Jaime was spending time with you in and outside of class; by how quickly you seemed to have bonded over the course of a few weeks; by how intimate you seemed to have gotten with him judging by the fresh amount of hickies displayed on your neck, dethroning Peter’s own set of bruising marks.

It was all his fault—Peter’s.

He was the one that insisted on whatever you and him have had going on instead of pursuing a romantic relationship like you wanted. There had been many times where he regretted that decision; times where he thought making you his was simply a fleeting thought and nothing more. But it backfired, and regret came back in a full, disastrous, home-wrecking storm of karma.

“Get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” It was Peter’s sudden movements that made you jolt after enduring the long silence. He got up from the couch and walked back into his bedroom without sparing you a glance.

As if the thickened air in the room wasn’t telling enough, Peter’s stoicism solidified your assumption. You sighed a weight that fueled the tension looking free.

He was furiously jealous.

Peter hated how you came back from class later than you usually did. He hated how Jaime’s cologne of cedar wood and musk stung his nose instead of your usual scent of oak moss and citrus peels. He hated how every time he caught a glance of your phone, it was a text massage from Jaime. He hated how Jaime had a bug emoji next to his name, similar to how Peter had a spider next to his. He hated how Jaime had infiltrated your life, to the point of you having to base your schedule around him now.

And Peter hated how every time he was inside of you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Jaime’s cock was buried deep in your ass, how you willingly bent over or spread open for him, how you kneeled on the floor and most likely whined and begged for his cum as you jerked him off, emptying your thoughts of what was left of Peter for him.

For Jaime.

Peter was losing you—losing to Jaime of all people—more and more with every passing day.

But he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“Jaime…” You whined, drawing out the last vowel of his name as you stretched forward to loosen the tense muscles knotting along your lower back. A groan escaped when the pad of your fingers grazed your toes, and you immediately snapped back when a cramp began to settle in. “Can we take a break? I swear, I’m starting to go blind.”

You and Jaime have been sitting on the floor, circled around your coffee table in the living room as you both worked on finishing the essays, as well as the accompanying presentation.

“Uh-oh, seems like we gotta take desperate measures then. Who else would hype me up if you go blind?” He joked, then stretched his arms upwards until a loud crackle drew a satisfying groan from him. “Dinner?”

“Uh…” You looked around for your phone, spotting it on the couch you were leaning back against, and clicked the device open to reply to Peter’s messages. “Peter said he was getting pizza for us after class. Should be on his way now.”

[Petey 🕷️]: All pepperoni ok? [M/N]: yeaaaap, can you get pineapple on one side too [Petey 🕷️]: Oh god, I forgot that you’re a pineapple person [M/N]: IT’S GOOD TO ME! 🍍🍍🍍 [Petey 🕷️]: You could dip it in a can of pineapple juice and there would be no difference

[M/N]: shut up, i’m the one paying for it

“Huh, really?” Jaime was surprised, straightening his posture as he took a nonchalant peek at your phone. For a moment there, Peter’s kindness took ahold of Jaime’s pessimism by the reins and pressed a non-existent brake. “That’s… nice of him.”

Frankly, it was your suggestion to Peter, which surprisingly didn’t take much convincing since it was his favorite pizza joint. All he really needed was a kiss to seal the deal.

Jaime’s gaze flickered between the sprint of your thumbs and your growing smile. Blue and grey colored message bubbles appeared one after another, and the snickers that fostered briefly colored him red. Rather than finding the sound of your voice annoying, it was the person nourishing the joyful noises out of you that ticked him off.

Since middle school, he had always been at the top of his class. Whether it was because he truly enjoyed the subjects in school, or because he wanted to be the hero that pulled his family out of poverty—failing wasn’t an option.

Then came Peter Parker. He’d been in four of his courses since sophomore year, but it was Film Studies that truly roused a flame within him. Maybe because it was a smaller class as opposed to a seminar like the rest of his classes with him.

Or maybe because it was his first class with you, absolutely head over heels for Peter.

Peter, who would come into class late because he overslept. Peter, who would fall asleep during a viewing of a film instead of analyzing the mise-en-scene. Peter, who would be awaken by their professor and somehow manage to conjure an answer that would satisfy her—or worse, impress her. Peter, who didn’t have to work hard as him because he was… Peter Parker.

Peter Parker, who was the sole captor of your bright smile that Jaime had preferred over a hot cup of coffee when mornings were tough; the motivation for you to come out of your shell because Peter didn’t want you to be a loner like him; the person you would rely on because you trusted his opinion; the reason Jaime could find the courage to get a word in when he approached you because Peter was always by your side.

Peter, who Jaime could never be.

“Hey,” Your ear twitched as a gentle draft blew into the canal, and you immediately turned to face Jaime, ticklish in your endeavor. “I’m here too.” His lips pressed onto yours, sweet and fulfilling despite there being a bitterness in his tone.

“Sorry…” You murmured, tossing your phone to the side as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and relishing in the softness of his lips.

Jaime let his muscles go limp, immediately toppling over your body once you pulled him close, and your bodies clumsily collided onto the rug with a small thump, a fit of laughter breaking the kiss apart in midst.

He positioned himself on his side after rolling off of you, cushioning your body with one of his arms beneath your back in turn. “Why is your rug comfier than my bed?”

You shrugged, sprightly raising your brows. “Doesn’t stop us from making out on it.” Your hand rested on his cheek briefly before swiveling it over to the front of his hair, brushing it back in one stoke, and settling on the back of his head to pull him face-to-face, nose-to-nose.

The dark curls of Jaime’s hair fell forward over his forehead in delicate and thick clumps, and you sniffed a familiar waft of spearmint that was pleasant to your senses. “Do that again. Feels nice.”

“Yeah?” You chuckled because Jaime’s voice lowered to a calming whisper, feeling his lips brush ever so slightly over yours—feathery and light like a brush—as you repeated your strokes. Your nails scraped lightly over his scalp, enough pressure to close his eyes and coerce a satisfied sigh out of him, and then another into your mouth when he kissed you as delicately as your touch again.

Every swipe of Jaime’s lips—of his tongue—muted the sounds around you, phased you out of reality, and lulled you out of the migraine you’ve been enduring for pulling an all-nighter. The last sound you recalled hearing was Jaime’s zipper, an enchanting pitch that needed no verbal cue for you to sneak your hand down his pants. The eye-rolling massage at the base of his head was abandoned, but it was immediately compensated when you rubbed and cupped at his clothed bulge.

For a moment, Jaime perfectly fit in your palm, letting your fingers do most of the work without much wrist movement as they pressed and squeezed at the soft lump. As you continued, you gradually felt the lump expand into a meaty mass that had you practically drooling into his mouth because you remember the taste and smell of his thick cock.

And defeated, because you recollected the uncomfortable stretch he’d summon when he was inside of you.

“Fuck.” Jaime hissed when your thumb pressed the smooth fabric of his briefs to the plump glans of his uncut cock, forcing the fabric to swivel his foreskin over the head in tantalizing circles—until thick drips of pre-cum stuck and stained a spot of the white briefs into a deeper shade of grey. “I could come just like this, you know?”

“Would be a waste of cum, though.” You simpered, looking pleased with the effect you had on him. Your hand began stroking the thick shape of his cock, pushing his tuck upwards until the tip poked out from under the waistband, greeting you with a delectable coat of pre-cum when you peeked downwards.

Jaime exhaled a shaky breath, pulling his shirt off. “Knowing you, you’d probably suck it right off the fabric, wouldn’t you?” The starry haze in your eyes; the constant licks of your lips; the harder grasps at his cock to pursue more dribbles of his pre-cum; he recognized the symptoms of your lewd vehemence straight off-the-bat, promptly rolling onto his back and kicking his pants off.

“Fuck, yeah.” You were famished, absolutely starving from the way you attacked his lips and sloppily explored his mouth with your tongue after straddling on top of him. You pressed onto his bulge, pushing against the center of his briefs with deep ruts until the head of his cock was exposed. Your mouth swallowed every profanity that would slip out of Jaime’s throat, fueling your hunger and channeling it into harder grinds.

He briefly put you on time-out to sit up and help you undress, one article of clothing at a time, beginning with your shirt. Jaime latched his mouth onto the first surface of skin he laid his eyes on. As you lifted your shirt, exposing more of your body, his lips trailed behind the hem soon after. He licked upward in one long strike, then dragged his tongue over the center of your chest, murmuring as you held his head close.

“Have I ever told you how much I loved your body?” It was a sweet confession, some would reckon that it was wholesome, and that was more of a reason why it made your cock throb in strong pulses, begging for your sweatpants to release them for oxygen. He chuckled, one hand squeezing you at your bulge. “Guess I haven’t enough.”

First, he tongued at your nipples, flicking the wet muscle on one nub before moving onto the next as he held you by the waist with one hand, balancing your straddle on his lap, and massaging the print in your pants with the other. Your cheeks ignited into flames when you caught his gaze; half-lidded and drowsy as if the sound of your moans was his lullaby. Then, he gently bit when he figured you’ve been hypnotized by the languid swivel of his tongue for far too long, disrupting the chain of moans into staggers. “Jaime, fuck—“

“Try tugging on them with your teeth.” Your brows furrowed, wrinkles creasing in the middle of the two arches, as you were puzzled by a sudden voice that sounded distinctly different from Jaime’s.

When you met his gaze again, his expression mirrored yours, frowning because your lips never moved when the voice came up. “What did you—“

There was a silhouette that loomed near the open kitchen that pulled your gaze from Jaime and towards the shape of a familiar body instead. Jaime’s gaze quickly followed yours after witnessing your pupils dilate.

Peter was leaning back on the kitchen island, watching with one hand down his pants and a smile that rendered you speechless and frozen in place. “When did you—I-I didn’t even hear you come in—“

“Few minutes ago. Good thing I didn’t miss the miss the show. It was getting good.”

Before you and Jaime could begin scrambling for your clothes, Peter was already on his way towards the two of you, halting in front. You scanned him from head to toe for any anomalies, a break you’d expect to see if someone was caught almost fucking on their living room floor. What you got instead was a familiar gaze that you’ve accustomed to your own intimacy with Peter, then he lightly tapped his foot against Jaime’s lower back.

“Not the ideal situation I’d like to… meet you again in, but… I will say that I like it a lot better than what I had originally imagined.”

“Seriously? What do you—“ Jaime met Peter’s eyes, an awkward yet heavy tension in the air forming, but once his gaze fell to the center of Peter’s crotch being palmed by his hand, he felt a lightbulb go off. “Ah.” He scoffed, a gale of chuckles following after because of the absurdity of the situation—to cover up the guilt that he found it hot at the same time.

That he actually found Peter attractive.

“Peter, I don’t think this is—“ You reasoned, but Peter deprived your speech when he began stripping off his own clothes. What the fuck is happening…?!

“(M/N) likes it when you tug on his nipples with your teeth.” He ignored you, nonchalantly repeating to Jaime. Though, it was hard to ignore the dumb-stricken look on your face when he approached closer to you, your confused gaze following his every movement. To appease you, he gave your chin a gentle cup, fondly stroking the center with his thumb as he shared a look that you could only deem as trusting from him.

You only began to relax when Jaime forged his suggestion into reality when he brought his mouth back up to your nipples and gently tugged at the nubs with his teeth. Every pull yanked a moan out of you, but you couldn’t help but feel entirely exposed and ashamed, knowing that Peter was watching you with another man.

It was allowed. Jaime and Peter have known about each other as flings for quite some time now, so it wasn’t like you were cheating, but… why did it feel wrong?

Once Peter stripped himself down to his boxers, he approached your side again for support, a large tent begging for you to release it from the loose restriction of the pattered fabric. Jaime’s gaze curiously followed Peter, watching his every move as he suckled, bit, and pulled at your nipples. He repeated despite the fact that they were swollen in between his lips, gratified that they were becoming perkier with every torment he’d inflict upon them.

Despite the fact that you had given into Jaime’s touch, into Peter’s demands, you looked up at him with concern, a daunting guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders, and he recognized that look with sympathy, assuring you with a calming smile and a soft kiss for good measure.

“Be a good boy for me, and stroke my cock.” Peter murmured lowly, stroking your cheek with doting knuckles, and you felt pacified right then and there. “And when you’re stroking my cock, you’re going to stop being selfish, treat Jaime like the respectable guest he is, and suck him off—got it?”

It was rare for Peter to be verbal like that. It wasn’t him, he claimed once, explaining that it was awkward because it sounded like he was in a cheesy porno.However, even if it was terribly and overly used in those pornos; a porno was a porno, and Peter was turning you on more than ever right now.

You inhaled, absolutely enraptured by what you were demanded to do that you forgot to breathe for a brief moment—but Peter kissed you again as a reminder, and you nodded. “Got it.”

You could feel Jaime throbbing under your clothed ass, his bulge prodding at the center of the fabric in desperate beats, as if he was agreeing to Peter’s ultimatum. Guess the dirty talk got to you too, huh?

As you climbed off of Jaime’s lap, Peter tossed a couple of throw pillows to him for his lower back and his head. Then, he did the honors of pulling your sweatpants off. A collective sigh of relief was heard as Peter and Jaime realized you went commando when your cock sprang free, throbbing and begging solely on the basis of Jaime’s mouth and Peter’s voice.

You knelt on the floor and bent forward, pushing your ass back while you slowly tugged Jaime’s briefs off to reveal his thick, uncut cock, seeping in its own pre-cum. “Pete, look how wet he is.” You slurred on your own drool as Peter knelt by Jaime’s hip, rubbing at his own cock.

“Geez, no wonder you were such an ass. Probably kept ruining your pants—“ Peter amused himself, taking one glance at the flushed expression on Jaime’s face, and chuckled.

“No, that’s not— we’re going to talk about my problem with you later.” Jaime stammered, but then halted when a sigh huffed past the dry of his throat as you took his stiff dick in your hand and stroked, squeezing until his foreskin covered the swollen glans completely and let the pre-cum pool within the folds, and then pulled the skin back and spread the thick coating back over the head again, somehow thicker with every cycle.

“Fuck…” Peter watched in awe, continuing to palm at his erection until the restriction of the garment had become unbearable to sit in. He slipped his boxers off and tossed it to the corner, then positioned his hips to sneak his cock into the palm of your free hand.

There was an expecting look on his face when you glanced over; a brow raised and a nod to his cock that seemingly reminded you of his demands. Balancing on his knees, Peter’s thighs pulsed, his taller height putting more weight on his muscles and making it look all the more sculpted as if he’d selfishly stolen limbs from Michelangelo’s workroom. Even though you’d seen Peter naked more times than you could count, you found yourself staring marvelously at his body. You never noticed how with every stroke of your hand, he sucked in his stomach, to pace his breathing, and his abdominal muscles would naturally divide into sharp, defined lines.

Somehow even more so, when he began thrusting into your fist.

As Peter helped you with one of your tasks, Jaime naturally found himself spreading his legs apart when you began lowering your head. You’d never admit it because out of context it sounded incredibly comical, but you loved cock. If you had to utilize the formal language of your essays, you’d say that you treasured it. It was one of the many reasons why Peter and Jaime loved having you around; why you found yourself on your knees after they returned from a long day of classes; why you’d gotten better at taking them down your throat because it’d become a daily practice, a hobby you’d reckon.

Because you knew how to appreciate a cock when you saw one, how to make love to one, and you would do anything to make your men feel at ease, even if it was at the cost of your own abandoned pleasure.

“So fucking big…” Your left hand continued to pump Peter’s cock while you shoved your face in between Jaime’s thighs, nuzzling and feeling the warmth of his balls loose over your nose. You inhaled his musk, repeating the deep whiffs of Jaime’s ball sweat, before taking his heavy sack into your mouth and suckling. Occasionally, you’d abandon his scrotum to lick at the underside of his cock as it laid thick and hard—pleading to be tended to—over his pelvis.

“Shit—fuck, I love it when you play with my balls like that...” You tugged on the stretchy skin with pressed lips to the base of the sack before taking him in again and rolling the spheres over the surface of your tongue like two gumdrops. You watched Jaime writhe as you tongued him, his stomach flattening and then puffing abruptly because he was precisely sensitive over the right side of his scrotum.

Jaime’s weak attempt at controlling himself from spilling a load right then and there was an example of how twitchy and overly-stimulated he could be if you found—played with—the right spot. Thankfully, he found the grace of God to hold it in and reminded himself to breathe; slow and methodical as he watched you with arousing awe.

He switched his gaze over to Peter hazing over you, and smirked. The hard gulps Peter would take, the stiffen of his jaw, the nostrils of his nose flaring up. He was blatantly jealous, scorched by the sun type of jealous, and Jaime got off on that, found himself growing impossibly harder knowing he was victorious in this moment.

Jaime was always good at reading people’s expressions. Even if they had tried to conceal it with a smile, their eyes told a different story. With your mind solely focused on pleasuring Jaime, your hand had gone limp despite still being wrapped around Peter’s own length.

“Just like that, fuck, baby.” Jaime reached down to affectionately pet at your head, a physical encouragement that stroked a delighted noise out of you, and you’d repeat until his hand gradually fell to the nape of your neck. By the desperate pulses of his hand, his palm slightly angling upwards to push your head forward; you’ve been with him long enough to recognize that he needed his cock sucked.

“Wait,” Peter abruptly spoke up, confident and authoritative, as you let Jaime’s balls go and bent forward an inch more, beginning to hover your mouth over Jaime’s cock.

You and Jaime curiously looked over. Your mouth parted open to ask him what was wrong, but Peter seized the opportunity to brush past your breath and invade your mouth with his cock, the abrupt aid of his hand surprising you as it leveled your head lower to meet his pelvis. “Just a little warm-up.”

“Peter—“ The gasp of his name was shoved down your throat, immediately coming back up as gargling instead since Peter offered you little time to prepare yourself. You heard Peter let out a strong exhale, his body melting into a limp once again when your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock, then the first few inches of his erection the more he pushed your head down. You braced your hands against Jaime’s strong thighs, squeezing harder and harder when it became a struggle to take Peter’s thick cock.

Jaime would’ve called the pain at his thighs unpleasant; your dull nails digging painfully into his bronze flesh followed by a scratch; but all of that was forgiven because of the scene before him and how incredibly hard it made him. Like a scene found in one of his browser’s bookmarks, you were choking on a cock that was too big for you; on a cock that you pathetically had to warm up for before beginning to throat it deeper; on a cock that would be considered a miracle to shove it down your throat in the first place. For a brief second, Jaime had second thoughts on whether you’ve sucked anyone else’s dick but his own.

Peter offered you little patience, only pulling you back up to take a small breather because you begged him through an incoherent whine that could’ve easily been mistaken for a moan. After a few seconds, you were back downing on Peter’s cock as if you weren’t struggling to take him moments prior. It played out exactly like the plot of his favorite porn scene.

The feigned innocence, the porn star dick, the teary bottom; Jaime’s cock was dripping, envious of the sloppy and warm lathering that Peter was enduring, that Jaime was so close to experiencing again before Peter took it all away from him—because he was fucking jealous.

Jaime’s mouth fell open the exact moment Peter’s did when you pushed your head lower than you did previously, then lower, and it seemingly never stopped until your swollen lips flushed to the furry hairs of Peter’s pubes. “Holy shit, (M/N)…”

“Has he ever deep-throated you before? He’s getting better at it.” It was so nonchalant, Peter’s tone, as if he got to experience your glorious throat every single day. If Jaime digged deeper, he heard a cockiness to it as well.

Something possessed Jaime—a rapturing feeling that made his chest feel funny, his cheeks stain with red, his cock throb with fervor. That feeling again; jealousy.

“Yeah? Give me a try then, (M/N)?” Jaime wet his lips when a large dribble of drool rolled down the corner of your stretched mouth. He met eyes with you when you glanced, beckoning you with a wave of his thick cock then slapping it multiple times onto his palm. The loud smacks were like a spell, and he knew he succeeded when you pulled Peter’s cock out with a delicious slurp.

“Actually,” Peter’s grasp on your head hardened, turning it back to face his cock when his fingers swiped your chin, and shoved his cock back into your mouth, quickly before you could rouse a sympathy for Jaime. “Seems like he’s pretty occupied with something at the moment.”

“Seriously—“ Jaime watched with one brow raised, irritation written all over his face while stroking his cock to keep himself hard. Thankfully, you saved him from completely going flaccid as you replaced Jaime’s hand with your own, stroking him as you bobbed and sucked on Peter’s cock.

It only lasted a couple of minutes before Jaime got up, still clearly displeased, and for a minute, you’d thought he would’ve walked out right then and there, until he began standing next to Peter instead. You pulled away from Peter’s cock to take another breather, sitting flat on your bottom and then welcoming Jaime with a couple of strokes while your other hand worked at Peter’s cock at the same rhythm and pace.

“Since you’re getting so good, why don’t we introduce something new then?”

“What’s that? Am I sucking two dicks at once or something?” You joked, too distracted wiping the drool off your mouth with your forearm to notice Peter and Jaime exchanging a look that surprisingly wasn’t of malice. It was as if they hit jackpot. Their eyes brightened at the suggestion and the smallest creak of their smiles signaled a sinister connection that puzzled you.

They loved sexually tormenting you.

“Wait. Guys, I was just kidding—“

“If anyone could do it, it would be you.” Peter flashed you a grin, knocking on your lips with the tip of his cock as if it was an entrance to the warmest cock-furnace in town. “Come on.”

“Yeah. You always told me to try out my options first before deciding whether it wasn’t for me. Shouldn’t you follow your own advice?” Jaime hummed, Peter agreeing after, then joined Peter in his mischievous endeavors. He traced the outline of your lips with his cock, smearing your plump flesh with his pre-cum.

You were apprehensive, looking up at them as they straighten their posture in anticipation. Their cocks stood heavy and intimidating, weighing heavily on your lips, and you were sure if you opened up your mouth in this moment, they would certainly take the opportunity to push past your complaints and fuck your throat again.

“Make me a deal, then.” The salt of Jaime’s cock compelled you to speak, offering him the tiniest licks because you felt bad for abandoning his cock earlier. With your tongue offering him little resonance, Jaime rolled his shoulders back to get some kind of fixture, as frustrating as it was.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, greedily pressing the head of his own cock to Jaime’s so he was spared a few licks of your tongue. It was almost distracting—how the plump tips of Jaime’s and Peter’s cock connected together in thick, web-like strands. You felt yourself give in for a moment, taking both of their cocks into your hands—one in each respective grasp—and mouthed the swollen glans while speaking.

“No more fighting for the rest of the night. And if we’re ever doing this again,” You realized you had the power to control them all along, the power to make them succumb to your demands because without your mouth, who else would they go to? “You guys are going to make amends and be friends. Deal?”

“Deal.” They collectively agreed in unison, a quite comical interaction that you were confident they were going to reel back on their promise once you squeezed a load or two out of them; their minds would be cleared and their decisions wouldn’t be drawn by the simple promise of sex.

“Fuck,” You couldn’t help but compare their cocks as your hands stroked them down in your spit, coating them in a glossy sheen that caught the light above. It was glorious seeing their cocks in this position, with Peter and Jaime towering over you, their cocks sticky and wet from your spit. “Wish you could see what I’m witnessing right now.”

You were envious that they only had one subject in their center of vision. You had to constantly alternate between Jaime and Peter to make sure one wasn’t feeling neglected. If you presumed they did, you’d recompense through a cycle of sucking their cocks, playing with their balls, slapping their dicks on your face, tongue included, until your cheeks were covered in your own spit.

Whatever they wanted, you’d do it for them because you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing your boys were unhappy.

Peter’s dick was a spitting image of one of those famous male porn stars that you recalled obsessing over; a strong curve to the length with the girth thickening towards the head; it was always a struggle to fit him inside of you. If you had to be modest, you’d call it a handsome cock as natural veins pumped throughout his cock, making it evidently clear where all the blood was rushing to; a natural eye-widener, and a throat closer, for everyone.

Peter liked making sure your face was free of any anomalies. Whether the number of obscurities were the bad lighting in the room, casting shadows in place that masked your mouth, to the locks of hair covering the tiniest bit of your face; you were a wonderful performer that needed to be seen, and Peter was here to ensure that, especially with a guest in the room.

His eyes casted over you while you went down his cock under the control of his palms. He liked having you follow his rhythm, follow the pace of his urges. If he wanted for you to focus your tongue on the head of his cock, then he’d pull you back at his own time and make sure to pull his hips back whenever you needed a fix of something more. If he wanted you to deep-throat him until you couldn’t breathe, he’d make sure you were on your very last grasp of life before you turned blue.

The sound of your saliva building and welling up in the back of your throat was a beautiful noise to him, one he could hear in his sleep and happily have wet dreams of. You sucked on his cock, slobbered over the weight of it through several coughing fits and chokes, and you made sure to look up at Peter with tears in your eyes, seeking for some kind of approval. He breathed out slow, seemingly controlling himself from spilling all over you right then and there, and found that if he didn’t stop himself now, then you’d never get to Jaime. When he told you to open your mouth and pant with your tongue out like a fucking animal, a wide and dark smile spread across his face. It wouldn’t be absolute control if he didn’t succeed in humiliating you.

“Good boy,” Peter bent over to slap you hard on the ass, a loud echoing smack resonating in the room. You winched, but nonetheless smiled up at him because Peter approved of your skills. “Now, make me proud.” He sent you off with a kiss, roughly patting the side of your cheek where his cock once bulged through, and did you the favor of shoving your mouth down on Jaime’s cock with no warning.

For Jaime, it was as if his own uncut cock couldn’t handle the weight and mass of his meat, making it naturally curve downwards that made it less difficult for you to slide him down your throat. What he lacked in length, he massively over-compensated in thickness and girth. A prominent vein ran down the center, and it made your heart skip a few stones or two when you realized the thick blood vessel was the reason why he built up a delectable amount of pre-cum.

The definition of control was interpreted differently between the two men. Where Peter forced you to suck his cock and move at his own pace, Jaime preferred constraining your head in between his palms and force you to take his cock, like you were some kind of blow-up doll. With a slightly bent posture to properly fit himself into your mouth, Jaime hooked one thumb at the corner of your mouth and stretched it open to accommodate his girth, and fucked into your warm mouth. Your knees felt bruised, burning in agony as you took every one of Jaime’s heavy and selfish fucks with absolutely no complaints. You clenched your eyes tight when he hit a little too hard at the back of your throat, then again, and again, because he loved how you sounded when his cock dented into you. He also loved how you couldn’t contain yourself and let an endless amount of saliva waterfall from your tongue and mouth, making it all the easier to slide down your throat.

“Fuck yeah, dude…” Peter was in awe. You felt one of his fingers toy with the pucker of your hole after he took a scoop of your saliva and spread it over the length. In circular motions, Peter was teasing in his endeavors, chuckling to himself as he felt you clench at the tiniest appeasement. “Think he likes how you’re fucking his mouth.”

“Yeah? There’s room for two, you know.” It was the most they’ve exchanged conversations since the last time they saw each other in class; although this time, it was a much more pleasant interaction. Jaime pressed his cock to the right side of your mouth, and you whined, giving his thigh a slap because it was a strange and uncomfortable sleeping. He pacified you with a couple of head rubs, then briefly taking his cock out for you to recover your breath.

“Let’s move to the bed, my knees hurt…” You grumbled while simultaneously catching up on your breath. You didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer as you already made your way into your bedroom with footsteps following you from behind.

It only took a few seconds for the three of you to work out your positions; Peter and Jaime laid flat on the bed, with each men taking the opposite end, similar to a bridge. Their legs tangled, thighs sat atop of one another, Peter’s feet at Jaime’s head and vice versa, and ballsacks pressed with the cocks facing towards the respective owner. You were the interconnecting piece, the final key in completing the puzzle, as you sat by the side of their hips. You had Peter on your left and Jaime on your right, jerking them off with your respective hand.

“Comfy?” You asked both of them, nonchalant in tone as you briefly went down to lick at the precum dribbling down Jaime’s cock, then to Peter’s as you caught the strong pulses of his length at the corner of your eye.

“Very much…” Jaime sighed, mirroring Peter’s position and cushioning his head with his arm. Contrary to how they’ve been treating you and your mouth, their gaze had softened as they’d been watching you. Peter had his warm palm running continuously down your spine, while Jaime’s arm traversed around you to take his time in teasing your hole with a finger, slow and sweet like the taunting delicacy of your tongue.

“So fucking big…” You marveled when you pressed their stiff cocks together and stroked out a groan from either one of them. The lights of your eyes dilated into sparkles because you could barely wrap your hand around them with this one grasp, and out of curiosity, you squeezed to impossibly squish them together, effectively earning a needy rut of their hips from Peter, then Jaime, and your throat caught a profanity because it was the hottest thing ever.

Stiff veins pressed into one another and Jaime’s precum made it too slippery for you to properly hold him and Peter without one of them slipping out of your hand. You were growing impatient, and you could see it in their eyes that they were too. Jaime’s was pleading for some kind of warmth, while Peter’s was almost threatening, as if he was about to pass out any second.

After a couple more taunting strokes, you gave in and appeased them. You lowered yourself, smelling the sweat and musk that both the men heavily extruded through the slurry of pure sex, and shoved both of their cocks into your mouth. At least, you attempted to.

“Oh, fuck—“ Jaime’s eyes widened, then tightly closed because he was overwhelmed.

“Shit…” Peter muttered under his breath, the words leaving his mouth open because he’d only seen this in porn scenes.

It disappointed you, you couldn’t possibly fit them inside of your mouth except for the heads. If only you had a bigger mouth, or maybe knew how to disjoint your jaw muscles to somehow fit them both completely in—but you didn’t. Despite the limitations, you settled on fitting the heads of their cocks and suckling. As your tongue ran over Peter’s bulbous head, then Jaime’s thick glans, you made sure you were stroking what you couldn’t find in your mouth. Instead of lamenting over the loss of a stretch, you marveled at the way it felt when you wrapped your mouth around the glans, then at the way their dicks rubbed against one another desperately, imperfect in rhythms because Peter and Jaime were selfish in their own pursuit of your mouth.

“So fucking hot, god…” Your internal thoughts came out in a moan, slapping their cocks on your tongue as you stared longingly at each one of them, wanting this very scene to seep into their mind and allow you to be the defining example of a cock whore.

You then pulled away to dribble bubbles of spit over their needy cocks, lubing them each until you proceeded to struggle to fit them inside of your mouth, only barely being able to push your lips past their heads. You knew they liked watching you struggle, watching you do your best to pleasure them, and it was mutual benefit because you liked having the attention all on you.

“Need to fuck you…” Jaime demands almost came out as a whine, and you found it absolutely adorable considering his meat was weighting heavily on your tongue.

“Fuck, baby, me too… I need to fuck your hole.” There was frustration pent up in Peter’s voice, and he took it out on the grasp he had on your ass, kneading your left cheek until you could mentally picture a handprint on your skin. You winched, pushing out to relieve some of the sting, but Jaime’s hand abruptly smacking down on your right cheek rutted you back.

“Only if you guys promise to dump your loads in me.” You moaned, feeling someone’s finger climbing into your hole again and pump inside of you. Then another, spreading and curling the two joined digits. And another, three now, pumping at a slower rhythm, because your tightening walls were restricting their movements. Peter’s gaze darkened, because he swore you were clenching on purpose to taunt him.

“As if there was any other option on the table?” Peter questioned, rising to sit on his knees, and Jaime would later join.

“His hole’s made to be filled with cum.” Jaime added with a smoldering expression, flipping you onto your stomach, then provided proof of his comments by spreading your ass cheeks out until you felt completely vulnerable and exposed. You resisted with a few clenches, but Jaime’s grasp on your ass cheeks was forceful stronger; there was a gratification that helmed his palms as he showed off your pucker to Peter. You felt something wet flatten against your opening, rearing you with inquisitive licks and prods like it was searching for something inside of you, “Tastes good.” Opening you further like its intention was to make your body writhe in toe-curling and ass-pushing exaltation. Your back arched into the mattress and you spread your knees further apart, gyrating your hips into the thick, musky air because the slightest draft made your cock harden and tremble with a whimper.

“Fuck, look how tight he is too…” You moaned when Peter curiously slid two lubed fingers into you despite being well acquainted with the tight cavity once Jaime pivoted to licking at your taint, then the base of your balls. The opening of your legs provided enough space for Jaime to sneak his head in between them and take your cock into his mouth to suck you off, holding you steady at the base.

“J-Jaime, fuck—Peter!“ His mouth was warm, strangely comforting, and whimper inducing. You felt yourself sink onto your knees and lie pliantly as you let him take you, as you let Peter invade you with two more fingers; a total of four digits pumping inside of you now; though you made sure to lift your hips up to leave enough room for the man who’s been slobbering all over your erection.

If only you had eyes at the back of your head so you could witness Peter and Jaime touching themselves, so you could watch Peter’s mouth gape open when he slid his large lubed cock into as if he hadn’t done that countless times prior, so you could see how Jaime’s free-hand guided Peter’s hips to push further into you because they both were well-aware how accommodating your hole can be. It was a struggle to even fit the head of his cock into you, like you’d expected, but you were thankful for Jaime as he gave Peter the push he needed.

“Oh, fuck,” You strained, gathering yourself onto your forearms to toughen out the discomfort—practically planking—as Peter breached himself into you moaning at the tightness, then began moving his hips.

Slow and steady, you felt more of Peter residing into you with every thrust, rocking your own hips to thrust into Jaime’s mouth. It was a messy, interlocking of sweaty bodies, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better. Jaime’s tongued swirled around you, inhaling and working you with a greedy tongue. When he pulled off with an audible pop, you felt his saliva dripping off of the span of your cock in heavy webs, that were then used to lather up his own cock before rolling off the bed to stand before you. He tipped your head back, making you look up at him flushed and intoxicated from Peter’s quickening thrusts, and pushed his cock back inside your warm mouth in one smooth slide.

You didn’t know where to dispose your moans now that your mouth was filled. Once Peter efficiently picked up his pace, he steadied his balance with a firm grip on your hips; the left lag was braced on its knee while his right leg was heeled on the mattress, fucking his cock into you deeper with his new position.”Fuck, I could watch you take my cock all day.”

Your cheeks were hot as your moans ballooned nowhere but around Jaime’s cock. Whimpers and joyful noises vibrated around him as you sucked his cock off, and you’d occasionally lose your balance when you tried to stroke whatever you couldn’t fit inside of your mouth, but you caught yourself before you could fall flat onto your face. You didn’t want to waste a single second of not both of your holes filled.

“Fuck yeah, keep fucking him like that.” Jaime exhaled, reaching out to fist-bump Peter as there was a mutual indulgence the two provided for each other. His body was slick with sweat when you noticed droplets of heat running down his muscles. He pumped out a few puffs of breath when he fucked into your mouth quick and desperate, enveloping and pressing your head to his abdomen to keep you steady, to keep his cock from falling out of your mouth because you had a habit of pushing him out whenever he pushed past your limits. Your field of vision was basically hidden as you stared into nothing but Jaime’s trimmed pubic hairs, your passive mouth sore and hurting, and your cock was equally sore—dripping on its own accord now—because you found it so incredibly alluring to be used thoughtlessly like this; Peter selfishly driving himself into you, panting because he was close, and Jaime pushing back into your gags with eager ruts of his hips, a tolerance that you knew would have you sore tomorrow morning, but a fucking comfort to know that you pleasured the two men with your own body.

“Switch.” Peter and Jaime exchanged positions once they knocked out a low high-five. It was on your own terms to flip yourself onto your back in the meantime, hanging your head off the foot of the bed for Peter to mouth-fuck you while you bent your legs up to your chest in anticipation of Jaime. Peter cooed, petting your spit-wet cheeks before leveling himself to meet his cock to your lips, then pushing your mouth open. It was adorable to see how you knew your place without a single spoken demand. “Mm, fuck—Jaime kept you warm and nice for me.”

“Can say the same for you, Pete.” At nearly the same time, Jaime supported himself by using the back of your thighs as leverage, squeezing a glorious amount of lube over his cock before pushing into you. Within the first slide, you were reminded of how thick he was from the way you were too distracted to suck Peter off and let your mouth agape, croaking out a discomforting moan. “Fuck, he’s warm.” He didn’t waste to time in letting you adjust to his size, because—well—Peter did the work for you, and began burying himself deep and close to that certain spot that never failed to send tremors down to the bone of your body.

Jaime snapped his hips with precision, the loud claps of sweating skin snipping at each other being one audible evidence of his experience with you. Your thighs and ass rippled sharply, then your muscles stretched as he pushed forward to fold your knees to your chest and slot his cock into you with momentum, gravitational force pounding him down into you like ocean waves crashing onto shore. Every time his impact moved you an inch off the bed, he brought you back with a tug at your thighs because he needed to be close to you. He needed to watch you gag on Peter’s cock, your throat struggling to close around his girth when it was sheathed deep enough for Peter to bulge through. When it occurred, Jaime showered delicate kisses to the center of your throat, moaning when he could feel the span of Peter moving inside of you, and then feel your throat constrict when he pulled out in a slow slide to draw out your breath for a little longer, to watch you desperately inhale for fresh air.

“Do that again.” Jaime couldn’t resist his temptations, caressing your chest and stomach because it had been flexing the entire time Peter and him had been fucking into you. The darkest desires compelled him to roam his hand towards your neck and wrap it around while Peter buried himself down your compliant throat again, and he squeezed his hand around you, your eyes clenched following the added pressure, while your throat locked around Peter’s juicy cock. Your gags lodged, bubbly in agony because they had nowhere to escape, until Peter pulled himself out what felt like minutes away of seeing the stars, and you immediately spilled into desperate intakes of breath, panting yet moaning because you had never felt such an intense adrenaline rush in your entire life.

Dragging his balls across your face, Peter loved seeing you sexually tormented like this. Red in the face as the blood rushed to your head, delirious on the sole entity of cock, winded through staggered pants as he had you gagging down his cock as if he had a lifetime warranty on your throat. It was beautiful; your words slurred because you were too exhausted to form coherent sentences and he’d use that as leverage, asking you to repeat yourself knowing that he’d deprived you of oxygen. Almost always, despite the promise that he’d let you catch your breath, all of that is thrown in the gutter when Peter sheathed his cock back down your throat like a man who had been cut off of your services cold-turkey, returning back with a vengeance, and as a man who had become a fiend for pleasure.

Jaime and Peter cheered like frat boys you’d see in porn, laughed because you looked so adorable when you asked for a small break; your cheeks were guttered with tears and your voice scattered into puzzled cracks. It was hard to resist coddling you with praises and affectionate kisses, even had they turn up their demeanors to an eleven. You would always be someone they treasured.

“You did fucking great, (M/N), god…” Peter was awe-stricken, rewarding you with a kiss on the lips to breathe life back into you, briefly holding your head up so he could unfurl the clouds until they dissipated for the time being.

“Mmf…” You thought you were a lot stronger than this, but your muscled had turned into jelly. Jaime slowed his thrusts down when he noticed how limb you’ve gotten and he figured stroking your cock again would do wonders for your peace of mind. “Need…” You muttered something under your breath, and for a moment, the two men paused because they thought you’d had enough and wanted to stop.

“Hm?” Jaime did his best to control his hips, panting. Judging by the death grip on your hips, it was obvious he was nearing his climax.

“Need you two…” You groaned out, replacing Jaime’s hand with yours as you switched your gaze between Peter and Jaime, collectively begging for them with the yearning gaze in your eyes. “Need you two in my ass, fuck…”

“God, you know how to make a man happy.” Peter laughed, breathing a sigh of relief, and you swore his cock had grown bigger at the simple thought of sheathing himself inside of you again. “Up, up.” You lifted yourself with the help of Jaime’s embrace when Peter positioned himself under you, and then Jaime lifted your legs up and hooked them over his shoulders, angling your ass out just right after pulling out.

Jaime did most of the work as he was the only one kneeling, whistling an impressive note when your gaping hole was exposed to him, and for his viewing only. “If only you could see this, Peter.” He prepped you and Peter with a generous amount of lube, then himself, chuckling as he stroked himself to the expanded opening of your hole. “We stretched him out real good.”

“Fuck, won’t be too difficult to fit us in then.” It was a rhetorical question that you knew the answer to, and you could feel Peter mischievously smiling into the back of your neck as if he told the funniest joke in the history of mankind.

Peter’s arms traversed around you, his palms reaching to hold your ass open while Jaime intruded into you first. The lube made his entrance a lot easier than the first time and you immediately welcomed his meaty cock with a tight suction, holding his thrusts as you felt the bulbous tip of Peter’s cock prodding around for a gateway into you.

It was a slow and methodical approach. For them, it was more important for you to feel comfortable instead of potentially letting the consequences of rushing everything ruin your experience.You felt flustered, overwhelmed, and your body followed in pursuit as you felt a stretch you’d never dealt with before. The hairs on your body stiffened. Heat spread throughout your body in hot splotches and left your cock limp and flaccid, spidering from beneath layers of skin until goosebumps raised from the sweat when you felt Peter trying get inside of you.

“Peter—oh, fuck—“ Your voice caught in your throat as you tried to open up for him despite the buzzing pain. You were pacified, and then encouraged by the deft of Jaime and Peter’s comforting hands. A pair of Jaime’s calloused hands ran over your legs, then thighs, then stomach, all over your body, to get you to relax your muscles. Another pair massaged your thighs, Peter’s; he whispered sweet and calming encouragements in your ear, dousing the strain of your neck in tiniest kisses while he attempted another push to fit himself in.

“Let me in, come on… We’ll take care of you.” Peter never lied. You trusted him. You trusted him to not hold it against you if you couldn’t. If you decided to stop because it was too painful. You let out a few nervous breaths, your stomach flexing, and then came Jaime, rallying your will with wet yet delicate kisses, just the way you liked it, as a way to distract you. Little by little, you felt yourself give in, your muscles slacking the more they touched you everywhere, including your cock again. Your body was burning with heat not because of apprehension, but because they couldn’t take their hands off of you. You felt deified, like a god as Peter clamped his lips around your neck, his strong hands kneading at your ass, while Jaime moaned into your mouth, electrified by the sweet taste of your wet tongue.

You breathed.

You met Jaime’s gaze, then turned to kiss Peter on the lips after meeting his, moaning as Jaime began thumbing the head of your cock.

You trusted them.

Your mouth alternated from Peter’s to Jaime’s in a heavy and tense session. Greedy tongues reaching for whatever was laid before them, and you were sure Jaime and Peter briefly made out because they were so fucking lost in the heat of it all. Their passion and lust had poured a newfound energy into you within a cycle of heavy kisses. Tongues worshiped your body from the neck and shoulders down, and you felt weightless.

And you let Peter in.

Slowly, your hole stretched to accommodate the incoming cock, and you let out the most heart-swelling and cock-hardening groan when you felt the fattest part of Peter’s glans breached you, then a yelp when the entire cock-head slipped inside of you abruptly.

“There we go, shh…” Peter’s hand ran down your arms, a sincere attempt to stabilize and calm the trembles in your body. His lips remained attached to the shell of your ear, whispering words that had gone from one ear, scrambling letters into gibberish in the process, and then out the other. “Slowly…” Peter said, more so to remind Jaime, and he nodded with assurance.

They gave you a second to recover while you held tight to Jaime’s shoulders. Sweat trickled down your chest, your spine, framed your forehead in droplets, as you rode the wave of pain. After subsiding the gut-wrenching pain with a few deep breathes, you gave them a nod, giving them the pass to continue.

“Fuck,” Jaime wished you didn’t press your face into his neck as you were sandwiched between the two of them. There was nothing more attractive than watching you suffer, as morbid as it sounded. He thought you looked beautifully broken, sounded beautiful too as you whimpered when either one of them moved their hips. With slow and methodical ruts, they gradually felt you relax with the occasional jerks. Peter’s cock slipped deeper into you when Jaime thrusted out, and gradually, they found a rhythm that worked for your comfort, opening you, stretching you out as their cocks rubbed stiffly against one another. “Feels so good—“

“You’re amazing, baby.” Peter assured you, a motivation for you to loosen your muscles again. He held your ass apart to ease their combative motions in, and once you let go through the careful and spoken truths that Jaime and Peter kept praising you with, the fear that you had latched onto and kept vaulted in the rigid of your body seemingly had been let go—thrust by thrust, you felt yourself opening up and things got much easier for you.

You panted, shoving yourself down and back so you were fully impaled on the cocks fucking you, confronting your fear and winning for Jaime and Peter. You have two cocks inside of you, taking two cocks whole, fucking your tight hole and spreading you open. You reminded yourself because it felt like a dream, whimpering when Jaime began going balls deep with every thrust, and Peter would follow in pursuit, holding your weight up and your ass open.

Finally, you felt your cock harden again; the span of it springing into a familiar mass, taunting Jaime to move faster as your cock throbbed when he came down onto you, then a few dribbles of precum leaked when Peter came up. They let out a moan when they met in sync, occasionally fucking you with their cocks as one big mass, their voice rattled with rapture because you were taking them in so well, so inviting despite your ability to clench and hold around them. You don’t, because you were fucking free, wiggling your hips without a thought, without a single rhythm in debt to your ass, and the only beat you follow was the sound of your heart as it began to accelerate.

You can hear it soar, decibels rushing loud and alarming in your ears as they fucked and fucked more into you. Cocks rubbed as one, then Peter would purposely delay because he loved burying himself into you as a single unit, grounding your hips to him because you were his first, and you heard shards of spirit break into a gazillion pieces, a barrier that had protected your sanity.

All of that had exploded, fireworked itself into shooting stars when Peter doesn’t waste a second to pound up into you, his breath fogging the back of your neck, then your shoulder when he hooked over his chin to kiss you again, swallowing your whimpers to turn them into his own delectable moans.

Forget holding your legs back, Peter abandoned them and you were on your own, your limbs relying on your own core strength as you struggled to hold them up, while his cock drive madly into you, Jaime’s chasing after in equal, heavy ruts.

“I’m gonna cum—fuck.” You huffed, closing your eyes because you were so close. You felt yourself getting closer relying on the thought that you hadn’t even touched your cock because you were so distracted, so well-fucked that you didn’t need to be touched.

Like that, just like that, keep fucking me like that. And just like that, you cried out and your cock throbbed once, signaling a fountain of cum that would then shoot out of you like lava seconds after, and your pucker would clamp around their cocks moving inside of you, pounding into you. Thick ropes of cum landed over your chest, then on your face when the impact of their thrusts was forceful enough to give it some height, and your hole throbbed around their joined cocks because you relieved yourself with a throat-cutting shudder, goosebumps returning back to form from head to toe.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Jaime repeated himself, fucking into you harder, deeper, faster. You felt his heavy pants on your chest when he leaned down to taste your cum, and then witnessed his eyes roll back when the taste was heavenly, a creamy merit that made the ache in his back worth it because you tasted so fucking good. You looked so fucking good, exhausted and melted, taking two cocks in you at once without a single complaint.

“Fuck.”

Jaime’s hands gripped your hips harder, and he let out a deep groan, burying his thick cock deep into you as he came. The weight of Jaime’s strong pulses drew multiple moans out of Peter, bursts of pleasure inflicting on the latter as he fucked into the hot flood of cum, fucking you sloppily with his cum-lathered cock, fucking alongside Jaime’s sensitive and swollen glans, vaulting it from leaking out of you.

It wouldn’t be long until Peter was triggered to let loose as well and spare you of his own thick loads with a raspy groan. He snapped his hips upwards once when he came, then delivered another hard snap to push out multiple strong and thick loads, and then another for good measure, because he was obsessed with how it felt to have his cock drowning in the creamy and warm mixture of his cum and Jaime’s. Your pucker throbbed, both of them completely breached inside of you to the hilt of their cocks, and your ass felt so fucking full—so fucking raw—knowing that you were double-stuffed with endless streams of their cum loads.

“Guys…” Your voice trembled, your muscles giving out as your legs dropped from fatigue, but they wouldn’t stop moving their cocks in you, sloshing their thick cum inside of you. Once your legs dropped, you felt a river of cum dribbling out of you, cold in its journey out of your ass, and you shivered despite being sandwiched by two warm bodies. “Mmf, tired…”

One by one, they slipped out of you. Peter first, whimpering because he rubbed his sensitive cock against Jaime’s during its removal, making him twitch and shudder. Then Jaime, unwilling at first because you were so warm, but nonetheless unsheathed himself out because he was curious.

You didn’t know what they were doing, nor did you care, because exhaustion had caught up to you, reminding you that you barely had slept the night before, and now the physical strain on your body only added more to the overwhelming drive it could barely handle. You rolled flat on your stomach, nose-dived into the pillows, and then whined because a pair of hands wouldn’t stop kneading at your ass, spreading them wide open for your hole to expose itself.

And when you looked back over your shoulder, Jaime and Peter had their phones out, snapping photos of your violated hole; gaping and raw, and breached as cum was spilling out of it like a leak. It was the fucking hottest thing for them, mouth-watering, and when you scoffed and scanned their sweaty bodies, you swore their dicks twitched.

“You fucking rockstar.” Peter laughed, love-tapping your asscheek before joining you by your side. His hand never left your ass, a strong urge to relieve the pain, if you still had any, with comforting rubs and squeezes.

“Didn’t hurt you too much?” Jaime asked, smoothening his palm along your spine.

You silently shook your head, murmuring. “It was a good bonding exercise, don’t you think?” They laughed, and for a brief moment, Peter and Jaime exchanged a cordial look towards each other, approving the other with a firm nod.

“To new beginnings.”

Jaime joined you from behind, feeling an arm traverse from under your stomach, and pulled you closer until you were on your side and he was spooning you. You could hear both of their heartbeats running at full pace, then slowing as they sank their heads into the pillows, their breathing becoming shallow as they were just beginning to recover from their exertions. Gradually, Peter’s hand stopped rubbing your ass and after you looked back to see if Jaime was asleep, so was Peter, drifting off with a warmth that you wished would stick by you for eternity.

“To new beginnings...”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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tarjapearce · 3 months

Note

Ok, ok, ok, hear me out….

Tarzan Miguel…

Ahh, nonny. Casually just saw this scrumptious fanart of him as Tarzan by @Miuworm in X 🫠. And yeah. (Kinda amazed at how you guys manifest these things 🤭)

Like Me

Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Reader.

WARNINGS: nothing too bad. Depictions of violence, a bit of implicit gore and animal death. No proofread.

Summary: Your savior from a certain death is quite touchy-feely.

Another for Miguelverse ❤️✨

The furious waves of the sea clashed over your body, submerging it in the freezing and alive water.

Arms moved, swimming your way back up, gasping for a much needed gulp of air as soon as you reached the surface.

Peeking around you, trying to find something to get a hold of or climb on, exhaustion was crawling up to your limbs, like hypothermia.

Fuck

Mind cursed with every foul word you could've imagine. How did trip ended up like this? In what moment the clouds turned so grey they darkened the sky, announcing a downpour with a loud rumble? It all took minutes to go sour and south.

You were there to do a land recognition, and see if you could get home some new species. Sergei Kravinoff, or Kraven The Hunter, was the lead of your expedition, all financed by a man named Kingpin.

Your name was called, echoed in the distance.

"Over here!!" You flailed your arms in an attempt of being seen, and hopefully the debris wouldn't blear their sight to find you.

You swam in the direction of the voice, teeth clattered, tool belt heavy on your hips, but you knew if you lost them, any possible chance of getting another were impossible. Plus, Kraven hated it when you lost your equipment as they weren't cheap.

Every paddle of your arms felt heavier, like if your wrists had been tied up with iron pounds, dragging you down. Lips turned blue and trembled. Salty and cold water doused you, but you weren't to give up.

You had fought your way to get a spot in this expedition and a pathetic ending like drowning wasn't an option. You spotted a wooden board floating nearby.

C'mon!

Your hands stretched towards it anf finally managed to keep yourself afloat. Panting, groaning and shivering, letting the cold to finally sink in. Feet had started to numb out, ragged breaths turned laborious.

Once more someone called you, this time you recognised the voice. Peter, the other nerd according to Kraven. You two were the ones selected to be the scientist that would lead Kraven to a certain victory in Nueva York.

Ever since Norman Osborn and Otto Octavius had discovered new species of spiders and reptiles, everyone proclaimed them geniuses ahead of their time, leaving the hunting behind.

Kraven was set into getting either a new species or something alike to regain his forlorn glory. He refused to be forgotten.

But everything pointed that the island you were now had a mind of its own. As if preventing anyone to delve in further into it's secrets.

You were pulled out from the board by Peter that immediately covered you up in a raggedy blanket. Despite the fabric being old, it gave you enough warmth to avoid death taking a hold on you.

Kraven cursed in russian, but was hopeful y'all be found soon. The ship's black box was ruined, your luggage at least was minimal, and it was enough to be saved by ether Peter or anyone kind enough.

A powerful and enormous wave had turned the boat upside-down. Knocking everything loose out of the board. The guns and other tools were the only things that survived.

But, you hoped, the whole fiasco was just temporary. Fisk wasn't a careless man, he'd probably send help soon. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your bones to freeze.

----

You woke up nearby the makeshift fireplace, relishing the heat your body had lacked. Clothes were humid, but no longer soaked and freezing.

Sighing, you stirred awake, letting the tension leave your body with a groan.

"Hey, wake up." Peter approached, concern etched into his features as he helped you on your feet.

"Where's everyone?"

"I... We uh, got lost. One moment Kraven is here and the other he's not. Left us behind. Or, he also got lost."

"Kraven? Lost?" Peter could sense the deadpan in your voice and he sighed, exasperated.

"I'm just trying to light up the mood. He was pissed. So I assume that he just thought he'd do it himself." He shrugged and you sighed, rubbing your neck.

"Great! now we're lost, my luggage is nowhere to be found but at least we have tools, right?"

The faltering in Peter's face made yours to fall as he shook his head.

"God, I swear... Fuck him. If I'm discovering something, Ain't sharing with him!"

"Let's focus on surviving first. The soil is rich, meaning the jungle is nearby."

"And so is the wild life." You sighed and Peter groaned.

"Look, thinking negatively won't take us anywhere. I'm not saying either let's throw a party for being stuck in an unknown place. But we gotta move. It's about to get dark."

"Right... You're right" You rubbed your face, exhausted, at least you weren't freezing anymore. But being at Nature's mercy wasn't pretty either, yet again. You were selected by none other than Sergei. If he trusted your judgement to be valuable enough, why couldn't you?

With a new resolution in mind, you took the raggedy blanket and other little tools Peter managed to salvage and soon ventured yourselves in the thickness of the jungle.

-----

Sun had long disappeared in the sky leaving a faint trail of golden and orange in the clouds, and you were certain that it had been hours since you walked in the jungle. No signs of Kraven or the caravan of people.

No signs of society or at least his stupid russian jokes that you were sure people laughed at by sheer convenience.

The only advantage Kraven possessed in his favor, was him being an avid hunter. You only studied species, animals and flowers to be more precise, and had a little knowledge of mechanics. Enough to fix your own machines and trinkets. Peter was an expert in mechanics and soil. You followed him.

"I think I've seen that rock before" Peter sighed as he slouched against a tree.

"Don't say that, Parker." You wheezed as you followed him, resting your aching back against him. "I'm definitely finding some poison and put it on Kraven's drink."

"Relax. Without us he's going into unknown territory."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's a professional hunter. And I hate with passion skirts."

The distant rumble of a storm approaching echoed through the sky.

"A hunter, not a geologist. He acts like an animal to get animal bodies."

"Still, he knows his way around these places, Pete."

"Shooting things till they're dead isn't knowing about things"

Peter stood and offered his hand.

"Uh-uh I just sat down."

"We gotta at least go upwards. This area is prone to flooding."

With a vexed groan you took Peter's hand and he pulled you up. You were tired of walking, but if he said you needed to advance, you obeyed.

"Fuck..."

----

Despite the soaking rain pouring around you, Peter had found an amalgamation of trees and branches supported by a hollow tree.

Birds chirped and cawed, bugs joined the concert once the rain subsided, the distant flapping of the birds and the rustle of leafs prevented you from lowering your guard. The only comforting thing besides Peter's company was the petrichor smell, pungent in the air.

You'd spend hours inhaling the gift of nature, if it wasn't for your belly grumbling, and Peter had ran out of cashews.

Even crickets sounded tempting to eat. With the right spices, they tasted crunchy. But all you could do was to imagine their taste as it was time to move again.

"Knowing Kraven, he'd go up to the mountains, probably they've sent a camp nearby a river. So let's look for one."

"Yeah, even better so I can drown that fucker in. He better pay us good for this stupid prank."

Peter chuckled and looked around for a minute, his blue eyes narrowed upon setting his sight in a tree trunk. Broken in half, but what truly made his... whatever this unpleasant feeling to rise within was the vicious marks indented on the tree bark.

Powerful scratches filled with bloody chum and crimson liquid, paw like marks painted in the trunk. The source of such gruesome spectacle laid in whatever pieces was left a couple of inches away. He could make out a tail, and small hind legs. A baby monkey, or rather half of it.

"Uh... We better hurry."

Peter swallowed, and the urgency in his tone only made your worry to shoot heavenwards.

You both walked, speeding up the step. Unaware of the keen eyes, hidden in the bushes that followed your every moves like a hawk. A low growl filled in the space he occupied.

---

You were certainly to die.

Undeniably, and it didn't matter how fast you managed to run, the jaguar quick paced trotting had you pushing your limits. Tears blurred your sight, as a garbled sob escaped your lips.

Scratches adorned your arms, decorating your flesh with fresh oozing wounds, dirt and leafs stuck to your marred flesh.

Chest heaved with deep and ragged pants, wobbly legs menaced to give in under the pressure at any second

You were going to die.

Even though life had been incredibly dull and the only comfort was your investigation, you didn't want it to end so soon. Not whenyou were about to accomplish a promise to yourself.

Peter had gone lost and separated once the chase began. One minute he was before you, and the other, your friend was gone, out of sight and reach. But the relentless giant feline behind you preferred you. An easy prey.

Your wails and cries for help fell upon deaf ears, who would listen to you in the middle of the jungle? For once you wished to have Kraven's gun expertise.

You didn't care if hypocrite defined you right now. You took a thick branch, swinging it with difficulty and pain at the euphoric beast, like a demotivated baseball player. But the jaguar's claws swatted the useless weapon away from your hands, and making you stumble on the ground.

This was it.

Oh God, oh my god, no, no no

The animal pounced and by instinct, you shielded your body with your shaky limbs. But no harm came.

You could feel the beast's warm and bloodthirsty breath on your head, snapping it's maws at you, desperately trying to reach for a bite of your supple flesh.

Eyes wide in horror, and disbelief. The jaguar was held by his tail, earning whoever that was holding it back from devouring you a couple of swings with it's sharp claws. But the animal was set into getting to you. It pounced on your boots, claws sinking on the back of hour ankles, earning a sobbing and painful wail.

A gruesome crack and a roar echoed behind you, and only then you were able to see your savior.

The tallest man you've ever seen, even taller than Kraven, strong and well built physique, a rich tanned skin full of scratches and long healed wounds. Hair long, reaching a bit past his shoulders, muscles that heaved and rippled in every breathing you did. Body hair etched beautifully in his skin.

Covered in nothing but a loincloth.

If it wasn't for you being at the death's gates, you'd take your time to study him.

You gasped as he held the oversized cat with his hands and slammed it on the ground. They circled eachother, shifting between the roles of hunter and prey.

The feline hissed, and the man returned the threat, a cold sweat ran down your spine upon watching two overgrown canines, on his mouth. Fangs. He had fangs. Brown eyes stared at the four legged monster, defying it.

And soon the jaguar took his invitation. The two majestic creatures fought, enraged, proving their prowess to eachother, disputing the role of Alpha within the jungle's hierarchy. They rolled on the ground, biting and clawing at eachother.

With a lurid snap the man cracked the beast's neck, earning an agonizing wail from the mean cat. He staggered before slamming his fist on the animal, forcing the last breaths out of the beast.

His nose flared, proudly, while his hands slammed his chest.

Terror was still taking a hold of you, and there was nothing you could use as a weapon. Your hands braced your shoulder as you tried to carefully stand, but your clumsy feet stepped in a branch, snapping it in half, like the jaguar's neck. Brown eyes were immediately on you.

You swallowed hard.

He approached, hunched and prowling over, his knuckles and toes supported his hulking frame.

"S-Stop!"

He quirked an eyebrow, curious and within seconds he was before you.

Breath hitched on your throat, face so close to yours, he could feel your breath blowing on his chin.

You hissed as he took a hold of your arm, examining the damage. There wasn't rage in his features but nothing more than untampered curiosity.

His hands reached for your hair, sniffing the strands, you couldn't help but giggle when his nose hovered over your head, sniffing you, a bad moment to be ticklish, really.

Breath caught again as his nose nuzzled your neck.

"W-Wai-" His fingers prodded at your lips, rubbing the calloused thumbs on your soft mouth. A satisfied grunt rumbled in his firm and hairy chest

He toyed with your face, examining it with child like wonder. He turned, prodded and licked your cheeks, reminiscing in your taste with a confused look.

"U-uh, sir-"

What is he doing? oh god.

He hunched even closer to rest his ear on your chest. Heart pumping violently inside your ribcage, eyes darted towards the covered mounds, he sank his face in between them, taking a deep inhale. A low growl came from within and your cheeks flared in a deep flush.

Oh shit, shit

His hands cupped your mounds, sending a shiver through your body, but you slapped his hand away. He looked taken aback before baring his teeth to you.

"No!" You covered your chest and backed away, but his nose flared to then grab your head and placed it on his chest a tad forcefully. Warm and plush skin met yours. You gulped again.

Powerful echoes boomed through his chest.

The natural musk of him tickled your senses, his hands roamed your lower back and your alarms flared.

"H-hey, hey!"

He pulled your feet up, sending you tumbling backward, skirt rolling down your thighs, exposing your legs to him.

You tried to cover your skin by gathering your skirt up. His nose again sniffled as your wriggled underneath him. Hands prodding and picking at your toes, earning a clumsy giggle

His touch was like molten lava, it sent a shudder down your spine.

His fingers were having a good feel of your flesh, as if confirming you were real.

With each discovery his interest only grew. He then cupped your face again, smooshing your cheeks together, giving a deliberate lick on your lips.

"T-The polite thing to do is to take me out before that happens!" You mumbled nervously while trying to get yourself free.

His eyes narrowed once more as he lifted up your skirt completely, revealing your panties.

It gave you little to no time to prepare you for his next move. He sunk his face in between your thighs taking a good whiff of your scent, another pleasant growl came from him, by reflex, your hand slapped him. And this made him look at you, confused but clearly upset while holding his cheek.

"No! Stop it!" You warned while gathering your skirt underneath your knees and pointing at him. Cheeks impossibly red

He seemed to understand as he crouched before you. Muscular thighs flexing as he sat, mimicking your actions.

"Uh, uh. No. Don't do that"

"Uh Uh, No. Don't do that"

He repeated with the same authoritarian tone. Voice surprisingly rich and alluring. Your eyes went wide.

"You can speak!"

He repeated like a parrot.

"Can... Can you understand me?"

His brows furrowed then quirked. He was about to come up with a reply when the rustling and your name being called echoed behind the foliage.

"Over here!!!" You shouted, this alarmed the man as he stood, backing up from you with a mistrustful glare.

"Wait! No no! Don't go!" Your hands wriggled, but it was futile.

He left before anyone could see him. Climbing the trees like it was another playground game, until he disappeared out of sight.

None other than Kraven showed up, machete on hand, swinging it the weeds and plants that dared to cross his way.

A shit eating smirk plastered on his face.

"See? I told you, she'd be fine." Kraven patted Peter's shoulder as they kept moving to find a perfect spot for the camp.

Kraven crouched to where the jaguar's body laid and looked at you.

"What happened?"

"I... don't know. I-I panicked. Was running from a snake and I found that there."

Sergei just hummed, as he watched the body, eyes raking the feline's carcass before beckoning two of his men closer.

"Skin him. Don't have this type yet."

Kraven took a deep inhale. Death's stench sparking alive the hunter in him.

"Whatever killed it, needs to be in my personal collection of trophies."

Peter in the meantime cleansed your wounds with water, to then apply some clean bandages on them.

The whole group moved, upwards to the mountains.

"What the heck happened!?" he whispered aggressively

You made sure for Kraven to be within a reasonable distance to speak again.

"You won't believe me if I'd tell you."

Cause in truth, how would you explain a man, taller than Sergei, killed with his bare hands a wild animal and got way too touchy with you but is able to speak?

The road was long. You had time

Peter sensed your discomfort and pressed no further. However, the feeling of being watched never waned. It was the group, against the jungle's secrets.

----

Taglist:

@fayeofthenightingale

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #Miguelverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n

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trashogram · 2 months

Text

He Chose You (Pt. 10)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Everything was white. Pristine white.

You couldn’t be blind, but no one would blame you for entertaining the idea as nothing but white stretched beyond your gaze.

Unending white.

Uncanny. White.

“Hello?” You asked the white abyss. Your call echoed out and back in, the way you imagined sound would echo in a canyon.

“Hello!”

You screamed, jumping up at the new voice coming from somewhere high above you. You tried to pinpoint where it came from, staring up at what you hoped was the sky before things slowly materialized.

Pastel pinks, oranges and soft blues bled into the white, adding definition to what had once been literally nothing. The whiteness remained in the shape of buoyant, fluffy clouds pillowing all around you.

“Over here!” The voice chimed. “Oh no, here! You’re getting warmer! Almost there!”

After circling around like a dog after your own tail, you finally found the source. Behind you rose a ginormous golden gate, gleaming beneath an electric-looking, all-seeing eye.

And at its entrance towered a gold and platinum podium.

A very… well, there was no other way to say it — a very white man with swooping blond hair eyed you from the top of the podium, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hiya! Welcome!” The man said. “You’re right on time!”

“Uh, okay…?” You replied.

Without a hitch, the blond lifted up a large tome and began flicking through the pages. In the meantime, you stood there awkwardly, a question on the very tip of your tongue.

“Wh-um, where am I, exactly?” You finally asked.

“Why, you’re in Heaven of course!” He stated jovially before turning the book around and tapping on a name. “This is you, correct?”

Your name stared back at you in a glowing golden font, all pretty and shiny —

And underlined?

“Yeah.” You blinked. “Wait, did you just say Heaven?”

“Mm-hm, yep! And if I could just get you to stand right here at the center of the platform, that’d be great.”

An elevated slab of pure gold rose from the clouds beneath your feet a little ways ahead of you. Timidly, you made your way over and onto the platform as instructed. You were pleasantly surprised at the instant warmth that met the bottoms of your bare feet.

“Pe-rr-fect!” With a flap of suddenly conjured wings, the gatekeeper floated down to hover right beside you. “Now, we just wait for Emily. She should be here in 3, 2, 1… .5 — ”

A loud clang startled you out of your skin for the second time, and you whipped around to face the woman that had spontaneously appeared in front of you.

She panted. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to be late!”

The golden gates pulled back to reveal the white-haired newcomer in all her splendor. This other angel was bedecked in a floor-length white gown to match her downy-white hair and periwinkle-grey skin dotted with white freckles. A halo hung over her head, casting an eternal light over her large, bluish eyes that sparkled with mirth.

Like the gatekeeping angel, her wings flapped behind her, but you noted how they seemed to flutter nervously. Or perhaps excitedly?

“Welcome to Heaven!” She opened her arms toward you. “We’re so glad you’re here! I’m Emily, but you can call me Emmy, or E, or Millie. Whatever you want!”

You waved dazedly. “Hi.”

Emily stopped short of touching you, despite looking like she was about to wrap her arms around you in a hug. Instead, the angel bit her lower lip as she stared at you.

“I really am sorry I was late. I got caught up talking with Sera, making sure everything was all ready for your arrival.” She gushed. “Thank you for greeting her, Peter!”

Peter brightened. “Of course.”

Emily turned back to you, buzzing with anticipation like a bumblebee. “Anyway, I’m sure you have tons of questions! No worries at all! I’m here to give you a tour and show you around your new home!”

You cautiously took the hand offered to you, and let yourself be led through the golden gate.

—

Heaven was very beautiful, and very clean. The polished golden floors and beautifully-crafted architecture, complete with smiling people of all races, sexes and species didn’t unwrench you from a nagging sense of confusion however.

“Um. Emily?” You asked your companion — well, one of your companions. Peter had elected to join the two of you on your tour, commenting that he’d gotten someone to cover his eternal shift at the gate for the next few hours.

“Yes! Yes?” She smiled at you encouragingly. No doubt, your silence, while it had not stopped her constant chatter, had been a downer in as far as engagement.

“I’m… dead. Right?” You asked. “I mean that’s how one gets to Heaven, so obviously I am… right?”

The mood turned down at that, with Emily turning morose. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Okay, good. I mean — I’m dead, but I’m having a hard time remembering h-how it… happened.” You admitted, embarrassed. And a little afraid, if you were honest with yourself. “Is that… normal?”

Emily and Peter stopped on either side of you, twin looks of confusion on their poreless faces.

Peter was quicker to recover. “Oh that can happen sometimes! Dying can be a very traumatic thing for the soul.”

Emily seemed hesitant for the first time since you’d met her, but with a look from Peter, she seemed to gain resolve. “Yes, yeah. Lots of people forget… but you’ll remember in time, I’m sure!”

“But wait!” Emily gasped. “We could ask Sera about it!”

She clapped her hands together joyfully, while Peter’s expression teetered on uncertainty.

“Uh, Em? I don’t think —”

“We were headed her way anyway.” Emily nodded as if affirming her own plan. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help us figure this out!”

The angel yanked you forward in her quest to get to Sera (whoever that was) and had you stumbling on pure fluff to catch up with her.

Many angels raced to get out of the way as Peter called out in alarm, but apart from shouldering a particularly tall angel clad in a chasuble, you were unable to stop or slow down.

—

“Hello child.”

The Seraphim (“Sera.” Emily had urged) was so large that you had to crane your neck up to see her face.

She was beautiful in the most ethereal way. To look upon her was to look at a celestial body and feel your own insignificance dragging you down and swallowing you whole.

Your surroundings — a gold and white antechamber with delicately carved archways and a grand war table in its center — did not help.

Emily laid a hand on your shoulder with concern before you realized that you’d been paralyzed by the scene before you and had yet to say a word.

You stuttered a hello, and Sera’s stoney face softened into an understanding smile. “Be not afraid, my friend. I mean no harm.”

You returned the smile, albeit shakily.

Emily squeezed your shoulder. “Sera? We have a question.”

The Seraphim gestured with open palms.

“Well, we were going around Heaven, and just kind of talking before um… well…”

“Emily, dear. Please speak up.” Sera’s command was gentle but firm.

Emily bounced in her spot, unable to keep herself from floating up from the ground.

“Shesaysshedoesn’trememberhowshegothere!” She blurted out.

You and Sera both stared at Emily for a long moment, trying to process what exactly she had said. Sera had opened her mouth once more before the grand entrance into the committee room was slammed open and all heads turned to the unwelcome sound.

The angel with the chasuble came barrelling in, and the omnipresent sunlight that touched everything around you glinted off the sharp black horns winding down from his skull. Or was it a skull? The face of this particular angel looked odd to you, with its smooth, glassy surface and flickering pixelated expression that replaced natural features like lips, cheeks and a nose.

Their appearance looked at odds with everything else you’d seen in Heaven, regardless of the holy garbs they wore. Everything, while somewhat fantastical on the basis of it actually existing, resembled the organic and natural, and this figure stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison.

“What the actual fuck? She’s actually here?!” The abrasive, aggressive voice that came out his digitized face shook you from your musings.

You shrunk back toward Emily and Sera, instinctively trying to get away from the rapidly approaching figure that also towered over you. He glared in your direction, as if you were an insect he wanted to squash, and only when you lost the nerve to meet his gaze did you realize there was another angel behind him. This one wore a similar face, though they were smaller, slimmer and straight-backed. They wore darker vestments and jet-black horns as well, with wings nearly as jagged and hardlined.

“Adam,” Sera greeted hesitantly. “I don’t believe you were summoned.”

“Why is she here?” ‘Adam’ demanded, as if the Seraphim had never spoken. His companion stood firmly just a pace behind him, arms behind their back.

Their combined presence was so off-putting, and your brow furrowed with mounting confusion. Sera’s shoulders slowly rose and fell as she sighed, disapproval in the hard line of her mouth.

“That was part of the agreement.”

“Uh, yeah — with the Devil!” His demeanor completely threw you off, so much so that you didn’t catch the full extent of what he’d said. “Who the fuck keeps their end of the deal with that asshole?”

You couldn’t hold back a scoff of disbelief, even as your confusion deepened. ‘The devil?’

A hand wrapped around your forearm, making you turn to look at Emily, who’d once more moved beside you. Her ire was clear, though much less contained than Sera’s. “Who are you to question Divine Judgement?”

Adam laughed condescendingly. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the fucking CEO of Divine Judgement, kid!”

“We are literally judges, juries and executioners in Hell.” The other angel chimed in, flat and resolute. The smirk that curved her stitched lips gave away some covert sense of satisfaction in that statement.

“Executioners?” Emily’s voice rose a few octaves. “What’re you talking about?”

She was legitimately bewildered.

“Enough.” Sera stepped in. “Adam, this has never been, nor was it ever, a debate. If you have a grievance, you can take it up with the counsel at a later date.”

“My ‘grievance’ isn’t gonna fucking wait for this bitch to fuck shit up!” Adam pointed at you with a poisonous claw.

“Excuse me?” You demanded in sheer disbelief. “Who do you think you are?!”

The grin Adam shot you was more a bearing of one’s teeth, which further threw you for a loop as, again, his face was completely digital. “I’m fuckin’ Adam. The First Man. The Original Dick. I’ve been here since the fucking beginning. I earned this shit.”

“Who do you think you are?” He asked, advancing on you. “You think you can whore yourself out to the worst being in all of Creation and still take up space in Heaven? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your gaze narrowed, a stark contrast to the whirlpool of thoughts swirling in your mind at his accusation.

“HA! Seriously?” His face was mere inches from yours. “What? D’you open your legs for fuckin’ everyone? Have a hard time keeping track of all the brats you pop outta that used vag? Guess so, if even dying for one doesn’t ring your fuckin’ bell.”

“ADAM!”

Adam’s sharp grin dropped, expression dawning from stunned to petulant as Sera’s thunderous exclamation reverberated through the vast space between your unusual group. You swore the clouds trembled beneath your feet, but it was hard to care too much with the insinuations that had been thrown at you rattling within your being.

Dying for…

“Charlotte.” Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. Air escaped your lungs - which shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already dealing with one crisis upon the epiphany of what you’d been missing this whole time.

A blitz of images and sordid emotions saw you struggling, legs falling out from under you as the weight of how exactly you’d died forced you down. Emily’s distressed cry sounded from above you, melding with Lucifer’s frantic pleas for you not to go as life drained from your body.

The Seraphim’s shadow engulfed your broken form while you panicked on Heaven’s floor.

—

Lucifer sat hunched in his chair, your cold, lifeless hand hanging in his.

Charlotte had stopped crying and presumably gone to sleep. He hadn’t put up any fight when Cass took her to a crib set up beside your… your bed.

That was who knows how long ago. And apart from Cass coming over the check on his daughter, the elderly worshippers had left him to grieve in peace.

The King had tried to convince himself to get up. He needed to take Charlotte and leave. Go home. The sight of you in death was unbearable — but he could not move.

He couldn’t leave you, even if you were no longer there in spirit. The You he loved the most, your soul, was gone and had been gone for some time now.

You had gone to the one place he could not follow.

Lucifer’s hanged head slowly rose. His thoughts were starting to become more coherent — what if you hadn’t gone where you were meant to?

Heaven was a paradise bound by rules, but it was also a cold bureaucracy where things could fall through the cracks.

And any dealings with him — Heaven’s sworn nemesis — were likely to be one of those things.

Slow-building anger replaced the gold in his veins as Lucifer considered that his own Deal was not met. If it wasn’t, that meant you were down Below, alone and afraid and suffering.

The Devil’s claws cricked, fist clenching as he glared at the wall opposite him.

He would not let you Suffer. Not you. Never you.

And you weren’t here anymore. He needed to know where you’d gone. Now.

Rising from his seat, Lucifer laid your hand at your side and ignored the tears that stung his eyes at the sight of your ashen face.

He touched your brow, lingering only to memorize the way your lashes rested against your sinking cheeks before turning to Charlotte’s cradle.

She was sleeping peacefully, unaware of his anguish, of the great loss that not only he had endured but she as well. It made Lucifer’s heart ache.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, Lucifer conjured the presents he’d made especially for her.

The twin goats appeared, suspended in the air behind him. Lucifer didn’t bother to turn until their bodies were triple their original size, fur changing from felt to coarse fiber, eyes glowing as they were transformed from button to bonafide, and their bat-like wings began to beat at the air, blowing back the gossamer of Charlotte’s bassinet.

Lucifer looked between the two magicked goats after kissing his daughter’s fragile head.

“Stay here and protect the baby.” He ordered. “Charlotte is your top priority, do you understand?”

The two creatures nodded simultaneously, determination set in their naturally adorable maws.

“If anything happens, just bleat, and I’ll be back in the wink of an eye.” Lucifer’s wings extended and propelled him upward with a great stroke.

The King of Hell disappeared through an enormous portal, sparking and swirling reddish-gold before vanishing behind him.

*** Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems,

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x you

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animeshotsh · 3 months

Text

Life in heaven | Various x Kid!Reader |

Alternative universe and events - How does kid!reader live in heaven -

Kid!Reader has their memories from their life in earth and hell erased. They only know their name and that they died.

Emily its the one who shows them around, she is soft, friendly and wants to help kid!reader adapt to heaven life. She notices how confused they are so it makes her personal mission to help this soul.

She felt a bump in her heart when they took her hand and called them "big sis" because something in the back of the mind of Kid!reader tells them Emily reminds them of someone.

When showing around heaven Emily ends introducing him to other winners, Kid!Reader has to do a double check in when they notice a pink and white winner....

Emily decides Kid!Reader must meet Saint Peter.

When meeting him Kid!Reader stood there not saying anything, making Peter sweat, Kid!Reader its stuck seeing the blonde hair and light blue eyes.

Next thing they know Kid!Reader has jumped into Peter's arms and huggs him like their afterlife depends on it.

After it, Kid!reader wants to stay at the gates with Peter. No one knows why, and they tell them, they need to rest.

"Then, i will be back tomorrow"

And thats what they do. Its a routine now, when a new winner arrives Kid!Reader its on Peter's shoulders welcoming them. Sometimes Peter has problems fiding the name of the newcomer so kid!reader helps him.

Peter smells like cotton candy and Kid!Reader never tried it before. Peter takes a few hours free to go and enjoy some with Kid!Reader

When walking around heaven Kid!Reader avoid the exterminators, specially one that has no arm and gives them the most cold look ever.

Emily seems to have a sixth sense because she is there to back them up and take them to a safer place.

Emily does not know who kid!reader was in hell, only some high rank angels does, thats the reason they removed their memories and they feel shame for kind of sent a kid to hell when they did mean to go to heaven.

One day Emily tells kid!reader she wants them to meet a centrain newcomer.

Sir.Pentious almost faints when seeing you. But he soons sees that you dont remember a thing and its devasted because of it. He adopts you as his new lil relative. Uses his tail to carry you around, buys you sweet and does go with you to visit Peter.

He also begs that you can live with him (something you accept a full floor was making you feel lonely) and Sir.Pentious its in cloud nine.

The first night he ends cuddling you with his tail. He knows how much you mean to Charlie and the rest, so he is going to protect you and care for you from now on.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Down in hell

Charlie has been depress since you died, Vaggie has tried to cheer her up, to make her continue her dream.

"How can i offer salvation when they killed (Y/N) like they were nothing? They dont care about us"

Lucifer has go back to his castle where he passes his time making ducks, crying and playing the violin. He stares at the photos he took of you and cries more. He cant forgive himself for letting you die.

Alastor its like his old days. Hunting whoever and whatever comes near him. He causes chaos in the city. Decides that he had enough of the stupid TV specially when they show footage of his fight and your death. The empery of the V's its destroyed in one day, and Alastor gets stronger after he consumes their bodies and souls.

No one can mention your name. No one can enter into one of your rooms. They are devasted and broken.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #charlie x reader #sir pentious x reader #Emily x reader

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imtryingbuck · 5 months

Text

Vows

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky and you are married- that is all.

Word count: 1,165

Warnings: fluff. that is all.

A/N: I’ve never been to a wedding before so if anything’s wrong take it up with my lawyer.

Masterlist

You remember the day when Bucky proposed like it was yesterday.

The bright fluffy clouds littering the clear blue sky, birds flying freely. Your hand was in Bucky’s as he leads you further into the clearing of the field, you were about to say something when he stopped.

“Y/n I love you, I love everything about you. You save me every day, and every day of being with you is like a dream coming true. And I know we’ve only been dating for a year but when you know you know right?”

Tears welled up in your eyes at the sight of him dropping to one knee-

“Y/n L/n will you make me the happiest man in the universe by marrying me?”

You didn’t even answer. You launched yourself at him making both of you fall to the ground. Placing as many kisses as you possibly could all over his beautiful face, you nodded.

The cheers and applauses sounded from somewhere and when you looked you saw the whole team together with huge smiles on their faces.

You celebrated all throughout the night - at Tony’s expense - with your friends making speeches.

Your wedding day was perfect. Just like the day he proposed the sky was blue and the sun was shining, and just like that day, you got married on that field.

You were nervous and excited. You were marrying the man of your dreams and everything was running smoothly. Your dress fit perfectly and was gorgeous, Pepper told you that you looked like a princess and you had to admit, you kind of did.

Pepper was your maid of honour. Nat, Wanda, Maria and Carol were your bridesmaids- who all looked so beautiful in their dresses.

Steve was Bucky’s best man (obviously) Sam, Bruce, Thor and Vision were his groomsmen - all looking very handsome and dapper in their suits.

Clint was the one to give you away, it was a no brainier as he was like the father you never had.

Morgan bless her heart was the flower girl who was walked down by Peter.

And Tony was the one to marry you two. He was way to smug about that - you later found out that every time you two disagreed with him he would always say “don’t forget who married you two”.

Slowly walking down the makeshift isle, Clint clinging on to you like a lifeline your heart broke at seeing Bucky standing there with tears rolling down his cheeks. Clint hands you over to Bucky with a kiss to your cheek and whispered ‘I love you and I’m so proud of you’ in your ear, you whispered ‘I love you’ back. As Bucky was about to take both hands you wiped away the tears and smiled.

“First, I’d like to begin by welcoming everyone and thanking each and every one of you for being here on this most happy of days. We are here to celebrate the perfect couple - other than myself and Pepper- that we all know and love, James and Y/n.” Everyone laughs at Tony’s comment and how serious his voice sounds.

“Sorry you two but I’m going off script. My sweet darling Y/n I have never seen you more happier since you’ve been with Bucky, and to you Bucky I have to say thank you, you’ve shown her what true love is.” Leaning closer towards Bucky he tries to whisper “You break her heart I won’t hesitate to kill you” Of course Bucky would get threaten on his wedding day, and of course everyone hears what Tony says as he’s holding a microphone. “Anyways, Y/n you helped get Bucky out of his shell and even though we didn’t get along at first it’s been nice seeing him find his footing, a pleasure to meet the man Steve knew a trillion years ago” Again, Tony makes everyone laugh including you and Bucky.

“Bucky you may read your vows”

“Y/n you’re my happiness, my best friend, my love. You’ve been by my side since day one, not once did you leave my side when I was in Wakanda, you help me sleep through the night just because you’re by my side. I love you more than you’ll ever know. I promise in front of everyone here today, to cherish you always, to honour and sustain you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to you in all things until death alone shall part us”

Tony tries and subtly wipe his tears, clearing his throat he looks to you “Y-Yn you may read your vows now”

“Bucky you’re my happiness, my best friend, my love. I admire your courage, your strength and your determination. I have never felt alone when you’re not by my side because you’re in my heart always. I love you more than you’ll ever know. I promise in front of everyone here today, to cherish you always, to honour and sustain you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to you in all things until death alone shall part us.”

This time Tony doesn’t bother to wipe the stream of tears away. “No one best try and object to this marriage or I’ll set the big guy on you” Nodding towards to Bruce who waves at everyone “Pepper and Steve please hand over the rings, James repeat after me- With this ring I, James, take you, Y/n, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us.” Watching his lips repeat the words back your heart stills.

“Y/n repeat after me- With this ring I, Y/n, take you, James, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us.”

“Do you James take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife?

“I do”

“Do you Y/n take James to be your lawfully wedded husband?

“I do”

“By the authority vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss th-“ Bucky’s already pulling you in and kissing you before Tony’s even finished his sentence.

Everyone cheers and there’s not a dry eye around.

The rest of the night was beautiful, everyone taking it in turns to make speech’s. The first dance you two shared as husband and wife was to Stand By Me by Ben E. King.

Now two years later after that magical day your sat on the bathroom floor with Bucky by your side, staring down at the white pregnancy test.

“T-that says…”

“I’m pregnant Buck”.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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rustedhearts · 6 months

Text

let it snow (70s!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: what happens when you're snowed in with your best friend (and there's a lot of sexual tension)?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the only living boy in indiana ✶ christmas carols ✶ the library

tags: fluff, mutual pining, best friend!steve

"oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go: let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!"

— let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!, dean martin

somewhere in indiana. december, 1976.

“That snow’s really comin’ down,” Steve mused from his bedroom window.

You glanced up from your book, splayed on your stomach against his duvet. “It’ll be fine.”

Steve let his drape drop back into place over the window, frosted with ice and fogging with the heat from his radiator. He wandered back toward the bed, flopping beside you and jostling the mattress. You huffed into your current chapter.

“Not worried about missing your date tonight?”

You shrugged, flipping the page that you haven’t even read. “Eh. He’s kind of boring anyway."

"Well, yeah," Steve scoffed, twisting to lay on his back. The blankets bunched up with his shifting. "His name is Peter."

"Your name is Steve."

Steve's head snapped your way to sharpen his eyes in a glare. "Hey."

A slow, sideways smile plucked at your lips. You turned back to your book and stifled a giggle, though it burst free when his fingers poked your side.

"Wanna go in the basement? I need a light and Mom'll kill me if she smells it up here."

You closed your book around your finger and gazed at him over your shoulder. "They won't be home for hours."

"It lingers, sweetheart."

“Gross.” You scrunched up your nose and tried to ignore the pulsing ache in your chest. Bless the cold for keeping the heat from rushing to your face. “Don’t call me that.”

Steve rolled off the bed and to his feet, rushing the door and paying no mind to your distaste.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he called, already halfway down the hall. "We can dip into some of my dad's scotch."

So half an hour later, Steve was on his second Winston—the first stubbed out in the glass ashtray on the coffee table—and you were nursing a mug of scotch. Your mug had Santa on it, and you traced his beard with the edge of your nail as Steve fiddled with the stereo.

"Don't have any Christmas tunes," he'd muttered once you settled in the freezing cold basement. "But we can break out the winter music."

"And what do you consider 'winter music?'" you asked.

He lit up a Winston and clenched it between his teeth, already rifling through his baskets of vinyl. "Anything as cold and dreary as this damn town."

Now, Steve was bopping his hips to a jazzy tune found on a very old record from early high school. You remember the day he found it at the record store. It was during his "blue period," where all he wanted to listen to was jazz and blues.

You hid your grin behind another sip as Steve made finger guns toward the ceiling in time to the trumpet of the song, though a giggle burst forth into a gulp of scotch. His head snapped your way, one finger gun coming to pull his cigarette away.

"I hear your giggles, Miss. Grinch," he teased, swinging his leg over the back of the sofa to sit on the edge.

You swallowed down the pungent liquor, wincing when it stung. "I'm not a Grinch. I just don't like Christmas the same way you do, you know that."

Steve blew a cloud of smoke though his teeth. "Yeah, never understood that, by the way."

"Not for you to understand, Hair."

Steve narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the ashed end of his cigarette your way. "Don't call me that."

You quirked a brow, chin tipping up defiantly. "Or what?"

Steve cooly mouthed at his cigarette a moment more. He carefully slid down the back of the couch until he was seated near your socked feet, leaning forward to stub his second Winston out. As it died out in the mess of ash, Steve hooked his arm around your knees and yanked you close.

"Steve," you warned, voice knocked a pitch up. "Don't!"

It took everything in you not to spill your scotch as Steve's thin fingers prodded at your sides. He knew just what spots to press on, just where to squeeze and jiggle to have you twisting and writhing in a fit of laughter. The kind of laughter that had you aching with soreness. The kind of laughter that sent you back to infancy together.

Steve swooped the mug out of your hand and placed it on the coffee table before it could fall—but only so he could ignore your giggled protests to stop as the pair of you slipped off the couch. You tumbled to the hard floor together, a mess of limbs on concrete.

Soon, you were pinned under his heavy weight. His hands stopped tickling and rested stilly on your waist. They slipped under your sweater in the commotion, and now his palms braced your bare flesh without barrier. You could feel him between your legs—the sheer size of him, pushing your thighs apart and stretching them to sting. The outline of him pressed against his jeans.

The laughter subsided to breathless sighs. You gazed up at his pink-cheeked face, splotched with excitement. Your stomach was in your throat. The record stopped spinning some time ago, and now the empty scratch of needle turn crackled through the empty house. The end of your nose was frozen from the cold, but the rest of you was on fire pressed up against Steve.

Steve: your best friend.

"You're so soft," he whispered.

Your breath hitched. His thumb started to move in odd patterns under your shirt. You were suddenly and extremely aware of your hands around his arms—and how firm his biceps were under his sleeves. Every breath that touched your face smelled like Winston smoke. There was a tear in the rug underneath you and it was tickling your cheek.

"Th-thank you."

His thumbs continued. The breathing shallowed. The record spun on an empty track. His eyes were such a pretty color—or, an amalgamation of many colors all in one pretty iris.

You swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry. "I-I should go. Still...try to make my date."

Steve nodded, though he, too, was lost in your eyes. He never noticed how pretty the shape of your eyes were. How long and dainty the lashes were, how they brushed your cheeks with every blink. Did you know? Had you walked around with all this glorious beauty his entire life?

How could he have been so blind?

"Steve," you interrupted. "Get off me."

Steve scrambled to release you of his weight, rolling to his feet and brushing off his jeans. He helped you up—a gentle hand around your arm—and watched you grab your coat from the hook near the door. You've had that coat for years—the fur-lined collar and cuffed sleeves were full of lint and cat hair, and there was a button missing at the bottom.

While you were fishing for your gloves in the pockets, Steve moved the lace drapes over the back door and peered up the steps. There was about three feet of snow blocking the door, and as he watched, more piled over the staircase and across the yard.

"Uh...not sure you should go out in this," he announced.

You flicked your hair out of your face with mittened hands and huffed. "What?"

"The snow's pretty bad—"

"We live in Indiana, Steve. I've seen plenty of snow."

Steve dropped the snow and stepped away, arms folded over his chest. "Is Peter really worth getting stuck in a snowstorm?"

You cocked your foot out, mimicking his folded arms. "Maybe. He-he might be. I don't know."

It was the way his jaw tipped up at you, how his brows raised and nestled together, how his lip curled into a grin akin to the sixteen year old that never got told 'no.' It was the way your heart thumped in your ears with deafening force.

You weren't sure you could be around him right now. Not without wondering how his lips tasted. Not without wondering why he'd never told you he loved you.

"Really? What's his last name?"

"Good question. I'll ask him tonight." You rolled your eyes and whirled around, heading toward the basement steps.

If Steve wouldn't let you leave that way, you'd just go out the front.

"Hey—seriously, you're not going out in this."

"Oh yeah?" you huffed, stomping up the stairs. "Who's gonna stop me?"

A heavy arm hooked around your waist, knocking the air from your lungs with one quick pull. Steve hoisted you back down the steps, and it was only when he placed you back on your feet that you started kicking them. You got one good hit in the thigh before backing away to glare.

"What the hell is your issue?" you spat.

Steve threw his arms out—fucking Christ, his shoulders were broad. His hands were so big, and he had the prettiest pink flush to his face after all that play fighting and struggling.

"I'm not letting you go out in that."

It took everything in you to muster a squint and shoot it at him. You were sweating bullets in your buttoned-up coat.

"Well, I'm going."

Maybe you wanted him to grab you again. Maybe that's why you tried to push past him and dart up the stairs. Maybe you wanted to be chased, manhandled, held by those big, rough hands—Steve couldn't think of any other reason for your second attempt at escaping.

So, he snatched you up again. This time, you ended up dangling over his shoulder, and your feet were quicker to react this time. But your struggles were futile and adorable, and Steve chuckled when he brought you back to the cement floor and blocked off the stairs with a stiff body.

Once standing, you flicked your hair away again. Steve pushed his sweater sleeves up to his elbows. Cords of muscle flexed in his forearms—those strong, wide forearms. The scotch was starting to take effect. The room was getting smaller and hotter by the second, and you couldn't stop watching his lips grow pinker with heat.

"You have to stop touching me," you breathed out, so much softer than you wished it would sound. But you had no strength around Steve when he was at this proximity.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes, swallowing. He almost seemed in pain. "Then stop looking at me like that."

Your mouth ran dry. The room regained its frigidity in an instance. The sizzle of saliva down your throat passed between you.

"Like...like what?"

There was an ache growing in your chest that you were starting to resent. A hollow, weeping ache that squeezed with all its might when Steve looked down and shook his head.

"Nothing."

You watched him a moment. Scuff his shoes through the dirt on the floor. Wipe at his nose the way he does when he's nervous. Tuck his hands into his pockets and roll his shoulders. Meet your eyes only to duck away again.

"What if I...just go home?"

Steve scratched at the back of his neck, tousling his hair. "I'll-I'll walk you."

You nodded. "Okay."

Steve bundled in his coat and scarf, slipping on a pair of ratty old gloves before you pushed your way out the front door. Though you only lived a few houses down, it as a difficult trek. You had to hoist your legs with every step, kicking snow up the back of your jeans and under your coat. The wind whipped flurries at your face and numbed your mouth.

By the time you made it to your own front door, you were shivering and no less flustered than a few minutes ago. You turned around as you reached for the knob, finding Steve at the top step, waiting.

"Thanks for walking me."

Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. His smile was tight-lipped. "Sure."

You opened the door and slipped inside. Steve watched you kick the snow off your boots against the wall and shimmy your coat onto the hook. He watched you trudge to the steps and ascend them slowly, lost in the world of your own thoughts.

He stepped back and shuffled through the mound of white on your front lawn. He stopped in view of your bedroom window on the second floor, and watched the glass turn yellow in the lamplight. You passed in front of the window on your way to the bed.

Steve echoed a white breath into the air.

Maybe one day.

#rolly!#steve harrington #70s!steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington au

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percyluvr · 3 months

Note

percy x dionysus reader?

percy jackson x child of dionysus!reader summary: you enjoy a quiet picnic with your boyfriend wc: 589

Deep in the forest surrounding Camp Half-Blood, you'd set up a beautiful picnic for you and your boyfriend, Percy Jackson. Being a child of Dionysus, your skills in the kitchen were unmatched. You'd perfectly paired the picnic with drinks, a tiny bit of wine included, which you'd had to work extremely hard to get your dad to allow you to drink, especially on camp grounds with Percy Jackson, or 'Peter Johnson' as your dad had called him in the middle of his tangent about you taking wine to share with 'Peter Johnson' without offering to share any with your poor father who couldn't get his own wine.

You'd picked out a beautiful dark purple blanket that one of your siblings had and a black picnic basket. You'd made an assortment of foods, making sure to include blue foods because you knew how much it would mean to Percy.

Now, you and Percy were walking hand in hand through the woods. You were practically bouncing up and down with anticipation to know how he would react. Typically, you and Percy would go to parties that your cabin or the Aphrodite cabin hosted, which could get pretty crazy. You two had never really had a calm date, and when you did try, there was usually some demigod problem that got into the way. You were just praying to your father especially that nothing at camp would get in the way of your date this time.

When you arrived at the spot for your picnic, Percy's eyes widened at the beautiful purple fairy lights that your siblings helped you string across the trees. His eyes landed on the carefully laid out picnic and you could see the excitement in his eyes.

"I can't believe you would take the time to do this for me!" He said, picking you up and spinning you around.

"Of course Perce, why wouldn't I want to do something for my sweet and amazing boyfriend?" You said, thoroughly pleased at his reaction.

"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose there isn't a reason you wouldn't want to," he joked, putting you down but still grasping your hand, and walked with you over to the picnic. The two of you sat down on the soft velvet of the blanket and he started going through the basket.

When he caught sight of the bottle of wine, his seagreen eyes widened.

"There's no way Mr. D let you take this, especially not to share with me."

"Oh trust me, you don't even want to hear how I convinced him to let me take just this one bottle," you said with a laugh.

He leaned over to you and left a soft kiss on your lips, and the two of you continued to unpack the picnic. You spent the rest of the day cuddled up and enjoying each other's presence, looking up at the clouds, and later into the night, the stars.

That was, until your dad appeared out of nowhere and threatened to wrap vines around Percy and leave him there if you weren't returned to the big house in 10 minutes. You laughed in response, but could sense that Percy didn't find it nearly as funny. You ruffled his black hair, telling him that your dad probably wouldn't ever actually do that, which in all honesty probably didn't help at all.

On the way back to the cabins, Percy and you shared numerous kisses, and you definitely were not back in 10 minutes, much to your father's annoyance.

a/n: i saw somewhere that dionysus kids would be good at cooking and could pair any food with the perfect wine & i just thought that was such a cute hc and i totally agree! also to anon i hope this was acceptable for ur request <3

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #pjo #pjo series #percy jackson fic #pjo x reader #pjo x you #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson #book percy jackson

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sergeanttpoliteness · 1 year

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sooo.. no idea how old the post was, but if your req are still open, Wholesome Spider Noir? 0u0

hello, love! not sure which post you're talking about, but the last time i posted a story was in 2020, so it's surely been a while, lmao. to be honest with you all, my days of writing for marvel are coming to an end, but when i saw this ask, i thought i'd post something in honor of the sequel of the movie that started it all, since this blog will forever mean a lot to me. thank you for this request, i hope it's enough <3

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Peter watches you now, as you wash the dishes and pass them to him to dry, lather covering your hands and forearms. You nearly drop and break a ceramic plate in the sink, and your humming to a song stuck in your head is replaced by small giggles.

He worries you’ll never know how much he truly loves you.

He knows you understand how tough it can be for him sometimes to be as open and vulnerable. Tribulations and heartache forged his heart, painted his soul a deep blue— like fierce, destructive ocean waves during a violent storm. You’ve reassured him countless times, yet after everything he’s seen, his brain struggles to accept there can exist someone so gentle, so angelic. As war and bloodshed explode around him, you’re like a flower blooming in between the broken concrete— beauty amidst the foulness.

You wash the soap off your skin, and when you close the faucet, Peter immediately reaches for your wet hands and gently dries them with the kitchen towel. You chuckle. “You’re supposed to dry the dishes— not my hands.”

At the sight of your grin that reaches your eyes, he smiles. So many words, so many languages, so many smiles, and touches of lips, yet neither could ever fully convey this glow in his chest. So many universes, worlds, and people that have entered his life and that he will happen upon, yet he’ll always choose to be here with you.

He calls your name. It’s an incantation that illuminates his chest and seeps into his surroundings, painting over the blue with glimmering gold. It helps him believe he won’t forever be damaged. No, he can also be the sunlight filtering through the heavy clouds and smoke, caressing the flower.

Instead of the towel, Peter’s hands now brush against your skin, fingers trailing down your forearms, wrists, and knuckles until he places his palms flat against yours. He reaches down and plants a tender kiss on your forehead, lips lingering for a while. When he pulls away from you, heart racing, he prays you understand.

Your eyes soften, your fingers interlocking with his.

“I know. I love you, too.”

#spider noir x reader #spider man noir x reader #spider noir x you #spider noir fan fic #fan fiction #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #gender neutral #fem!reader #male!reader #spider man: into the spider verse #sm: itsv #sm: atsv #peter parker x reader

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magswrite · 2 months

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prompt: spring (april 1st). 1,228 words. @jegulus-microfic

“Whoa, careful,” James says, as Regulus shifts in the boat, trying to get a better look at the branches descending over them.

James, in all his foresight, had decided to row them out beneath one of the biggest cherry trees, filling the sky with the bright pink of the branches. Still, it’s a gorgeous day—blue, with little white puffs of cloud. In James’ opinion, it couldn’t be more perfect.

It’s full bloom for the cherry blossoms, and James can see in Regulus’ eyes the awe of it all. Around them, the petals have scattered on the surface of the water, rippling slightly from the weight of the boat, up and down, up and down.

Across from James, Regulus looks perfectly serene, head tilted back as he gazes up at the trees. Woven through the blossoms are nearly-black branches. James can’t help but think they match Regulus’ hair, and the way it falls around his face, all delicate.

That’s the perfect way to describe Regulus, James thinks. Delicate. Like the blossoms surrounding them.

It’d taken plenty of work to get the two of them here. Well—alone. It required some bribery of Remus, and a promise to Sirius that James wouldn’t capsize the boat.

“I just want to make sure,” Sirius had teased. “You’re not exactly the most careful person, and Reggie doesn’t like the water.”

“I’m not going to capsize the boat, Sirius.”

Sirius had given him a good hard glare, and then nodded. “Just be careful. That’s my brother.”

Oh, James knew too well what it was to be careful. Knows too well that he needs to be extra careful around Regulus. James has a penchant for breaking things (not people, of course, but he’s never been poised). He’s always been a bit clumsy, but for Regulus, he wants to try.

Being careful, that is.

When Regulus’ gaze drifts back down, meeting James’ eyes, there’s a lightness in him. There’s a half-smile on his face, and James feels as if he’s seeing Regulus in full for the first time. Blossoming.

He’d been almost a ghost for the past year, turning up on Sirius and James’ doorstep last spring, all rain-soaked and shaking. Sirius, of course, had welcomed him with open arms, but it’d taken plenty of coaxing to get him to open up to the rest of them—James, and Remus, and Peter. Some of the girls.

It had been a far cry from the Regulus sitting in front of James, now.

Still, the thought lingered. Delicate.

James feels as if he reaches out and touches Regulus now, he’ll crumple. Regulus, just-blooming, would be crushed under the weight of James. James, who’s just heavy. He’s got a heavy heart, and heavy hands.

“What?” Regulus asks, and James realizes he’s been staring.

James shakes his head. “Nothing.”

In Regulus’ hair is a single petal, broken off from one of the branches above. It’s a mirror of the color of the trees, and James has the sudden urge to reach out, and sweep it away from Regulus’ curls.

Regulus gives him a look, knowing. “You can tell me, Jamie.”

Jamie. A nickname he’d earned after months and months of Regulus calling him Potter.

James opens his mouth to say something—anything, though finds nothing really does come out. What is there to say? I’ve loved you from the moment you set foot on my doorstep? I fall in love with you a little more, every day? I orchestrated this entire thing to confess, and now I can’t find the words?

“I’m just—I’m being careful,” James says, holding his hands firmly at his sides. Desperately, he wants to reach into Regulus’ hair.

“Careful?” Regulus states. “You’re awfully concerned with that, today.”

Oh, James thinks. Not quite what I was getting at.

“Being careful never hurts, does it?” James says. He feels as if he’s echoing his father, or Sirius.

Regulus gives him a long look. “You’re distracted.”

“No, I’m not,” James says.

Right now, distracted is probably the worst thing he can be, though. Mostly, because Regulus has been looking forward to the cherry blossoms for the past five months—planning a trip all the way to Japan just for it.

“Mum and Dad never would’ve let us, as children,” Regulus had said. “I know it’s silly—“

“—It’s not silly,” James had insisted. “We’ll go.”

“James, it’s fucking Japan.”

James had shrugged. “We’ll go.”

Regulus clearly had thought he was just saying that, though he meant it in full seriousness. Meant it ever since Regulus mentioned spring was his favorite season, because of the flowers. Because of new beginnings.

“Yes, you’re distracted,” Regulus continues. “I don’t like it. You have to enjoy it.”

James rolls his eyes. “I’m already enjoying myself, I’ll have you know. Spectacular view.”

He says the last bit like it’s sarcastic, though it isn’t at all.

“All you’re looking at is me,” Regulus teases back.

The words come before James can think.

“You’re exactly the point.”

It’s in full seriousness; nothing teasing reaches his voice.

For a moment, Regulus looks stunned. As if he can’t quite believe what James just said, though James thinks that might be wishful thinking. Heavy hands, James thinks, heavy heart. He’s a bit too heavy for Regulus. James’ll crush him.

Then, the flush starts across his face, cheeks turned pink. Delicate.

“You don’t mean that,” Regulus says. It’s under his breath, and James is almost certain he isn’t quite meant to hear it.

“Yes,” James responds quickly. “I do.”

(If there’s anything that’ll convince him to speak, it’s self-deprecation. Particularly in Regulus. It’s a nasty habit James is teasing out of him.)

Regulus flushes again.

“I really do mean it, Reg,” he continues. “I mean it. And I think it all the time. Because—I think I’m a bit in love with you.”

Across from him, Regulus bites at his lip, as though in concentration. And James shouldn’t let his heart jump at the movement (he knows it’s just a habit of Regulus’—it doesn’t really mean anything), but it does.

“Is that why Sirius is in a boat with Remus?” Regulus asks.

Of course, Regulus would take a moment like this to be funny. “Yes,” James hisses.

“And is that why you’re so—fidgety?”

James nods. Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. It seems to be playing through his mind, in a loop.

The pause seems infinite.

Then: “That’s all?”

For another moment, James is stunned. “What?”

“You’ve been weird all day. Like, avoiding me. I thought you were about to tell me I had to move out, or—“

“—No,” James says, just at the mere thought of it. “Nonono.”

Regulus opens his mouth. Shuts it. His eyes flicker again over the branches, extending above. James wishes, for once, he could know what was running through Regulus’ mind.

“So, this was…”

James nods.

“How long?”

He tilts his head to the side, in contemplation. The love doesn’t really feel like it has a beginning. Or a middle. Or even an end.

“A while.”

“And you waited until now?” Regulus states.

James flushes. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

“Perfect?” Regulus questions. “Well. It almost is.”

Almost. The word reverberates in James’ mind, back and forth and back and forth, swaying like the motion of the boat.

“Almost?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

James does, though first, he brushes the petal from Regulus’ hair.

#listen i've been obsessed with cherry blossoms recently #so this was a must #i think i'm gonna try and do these every day of april #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #regulus x james #james potter #regulus black #marauders #marauders fanfic #jegulus microfic #microfic

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sommerregenjuniluft · 3 months

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@jegulus-microfic feb 26 - bed - 1047words - cw: drinking—aka reg picking up a drunk james from the pub<3

for laurie @itsjaywalkers because she's a gem and also i was listening to wallows typing this out mwah

James wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye as he straightens back up, belly hurting and cheeks straining as he claps Peter on the shoulder, laughing and shaking with his whole body.

His head feels pleasantly heavy and his vision is a little blurry, alcohol warming him up from the inside and James thinks Peter isn’t far off with the way the flush on his red cheeks starts spreading along his entire face as he tries to catch his breath.

“Oh god,” James snickers, sucking in a much needed breath, chortling slightly on the way in which makes Peter send him a weird look and then in return makes James break into another fit of giggles. Everything is just so funny right now.

Peter joins right in, while simultaneously trying to take another sip of his nearly empty cup of beer, his laughter preventing him from actually swallowing.

Predictably, he ends up coughing and James pounds him on the back with one hand as the other maintains a white knuckled grip on the round bar table to keep himself upright as he tries not to piss his pants from laughing.

Once Peter got himself back in order he clears his throat violently, warily eyeing his remaining beverage, “Shit, I don’t think I should finish that.”

James snorts, “That’s barely two gulps, Pete.”

His blonde friend groans, head sinking into his palms, “I think Benji might already have my head if I turn up back home like this.”

James turns solemn all the sudden, nodding in understanding and rubbing Peter’s back soothingly. Benji loves him though so it’ll be fine, James knows that, but he still wants to be there for Peter, obviously.

The other man grumbles something into his hands that James doesn’t catch over the music and loud noise of people.

“What was that?”

Peter’s head tilts back up, “What about you?”

James blinks, trying to decipher what his friend means through the alcohol clouding his brain.

Pete’s lips tug into a lopsided smirk, “How’re you gonna get home to your loverboy?”

“Oh,” James makes, understanding now. “Regulus said he’ll pick me up.”

“Mm,” Peter grunts into his cup, downing the flat beer, “Premium service.”

James feels himself turn a little more gooey where he’s draping his full weight onto the precariously wobbly bar table, and he sighs long and dreamily, “Yeah, he’s the best.”

“Hi, Regulus,” Peter says, head tipped to the side at a 90 degree angle.

“Yeah, obviously, Regulus, who else?” James makes, nose scrunching in confusion.

“Hello, Peter,” a voice says from behind him and James thinks he might nearly break a few cervical vertebraes in his haste to turn around.

“Baby,” James gasps when he sees Regulus standing there in all his beautiful glory. Head cocked to the side slightly, arms crossed and a mild scowl on his face. He’s in one of James’ grey printed hoodies and sporting some dark green and blue plaid pyjama bottoms that always make his butt look a little bigger, according to himself. James loves Regulus ass though, he loves that it’s perky and petite and perfectly bite-sized for when James is—

“I texted you,” Regulus says in lieu of greeting James, lips pursed into a pout James also would like to bite, “And I called four times.”

Another, softer gasp punches out of James and he fumbles for his phone in his jeans’ back pocket for a second, tapping the screen to see the missed calls and messages.

James’ expression tips into a frown, a wounded noise coming from his chest as he shuffles closer with his head ducked, palms slowly reaching out to Regulus’ hips. “I’m so sorry, love,” James mumbles, tone apologetic and Regulus’ eyes narrow, “I swear I wasn’t ignoring you, I just didn’t hear.”

Regulus averts his eyes with a small tut, arms tightening where they’re crossed.

James can’t help but whine. The last thing he wants right now is for Regulus to be mad at him, “Baby, please, I promise.”

When Regulus doesn’t budge, James twirls one of his dark curls around his index, playing softly and contemplating giving into the urge of peppering his boyfriend’s face in kisses. He doesn’t want to make it worse though.

James scrambles together all his might and tries navigating through the drunken haze of his brain and body, concentrating to remind himself what usually makes Regulus fold.

“We were just talking about you, too,” James tries. “Petey can confirm that.”

“Oh, I do not want to be dragged into this, thank you very much.”

James grumbles, rolling his eyes and simply winds his arms tighter around Regulus. It elicits a small inhale and yes, that’s good and it makes James tug his lower lip between his teeth, humming in satisfaction.

Regulus eyes snap back around to him, eyelids fluttering and James slips into a victorious grin. He leans closer and lets his lips brush over his boyfriends, inhaling that distinct citrus and bergamot smell of him, before he breathes needily, “Missed you so much, Reg.”

In the next second there are palms thumping against his pecs, punching a breath out of him before he’s reeled back in by the lapel of his flannel, Regulus glowering at him, cheeks flushed, “Ok, that’s officially enough of you, menace.”

James giggles and quickly squishes Regulus cheeks to plant a kiss on his slack mouth.

They bid their Goodbyes to Peter and make sure he’s got a cab that’ll bring him home safely and then James lets Regulus tug him out of the pub with their fingers intertwined.

Once they’re outside of the crowded space James can’t help himself when he snatches Regulus around the waist and squeezes him with a happy groan.

“James,” Regulus chides, voice tight and flustered, “Let go, we’re in the middle of a sidewalk.”

“But I love you so much,” James slurs into the space between the hoodie and Regulus’ exposed neck, nose nuzzling the skin contently.

Regulus sighs and James doesn’t have to look to see the smile playing at his rosy lips, “Let’s get you into bed.”

“Aw yeah, bed,” James snickers, reaching one hand around to grab at Regulus’ butt.

Regulus yelps and James ends up with a bruise on his ribcage that throbs softly once he cuddles up with Regulus under the sheets half an hour later.

#theyre sooo sweet and annoying #jegulus #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #lune’s tiny fic #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter #q

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politemenacephd · 4 months

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Arachnophilia: (Part Seventeen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Mostly relationship fluff + some worldbuilding. Also Peter content.

Word count: 4890

It was early morning once more, and today light was streaming in through every hole in the nest. The sun was bright and high over the canopy in a sea of pale blue, sitting in an sky barely touched by clouds. It was quiet, calm, even verging on warm, with the morning heat creating a low mist across the grass.

You liked to believe the weather was a reflection of your mood, because today you were finally taking Mig with you to the Society. You were elated, almost giddy, but him? Not so much.

‘Ogh. Look at you. So handsome!’

You grinned up at Mig as he paced about the nest, his eyes solely focused on his chest. His usually bare torso had been covered by a single, plain white shirt, and he seemed to be struggling with the sensation.

‘Mm… It has been, far too long since I had to put one of these on. How do you wear these all the time?’ he grumbled. He kept pulling on the shirt, awkwardly shifting it in and out of place. You were trying to not get distracted by how tight it was. You’d gotten the largest size you could, but it was still sticking quite close to his chest and shoulders, the smooth white fabric perfectly highlighting the rounded pounds of his pecs.

It was rather unfair, really, how you teased him for his constant ogling. You weren’t any better. He was just so damn pretty, with the plain white sitting on his warm skin, hugging his hefty chest.

‘You’ll get used to it’ you reassured him, ‘I did argue with them about the clothing but… they said, you know, society protocol. No shirtlessness. Not even for this most beautiful of men.’

Miguel shot you a smile to acknowledge your praise. ‘Yes. I should have suspected it would not be easy. Still, I appreciate you trying, mi tesoro.’

With those dreary words he crept forward to comfort himself with your touch. His forelegs pulled you in and clutched you to his abdomen, and you nestled back so tight that the fluff went up your nose and caused you to sneeze.

‘Aw—Mi arañita, qué menso eres’ he murmured affectionately.

‘Mean’ you retorted.

He was purring now, his abdomen vibrating and rustling with joy. ‘I will be grateful to have you with me’ he said as he brushed your suit down. It wasn’t dirty, he’d just gone so long without clothes that he assumed you brushing off his shirt was a sign of affection, and he wanted to return it. ‘I would never have gone alone, even if the offer was made again.’

‘I’ll be there the whole time, I promise’ you said. As Mig smiled you sealed that promise with a kiss to his claws. ‘And if Miguel tries anything, I’ll rip his claws out one by one. I promise that too.’

You saw Mig’s smile falter a little. ‘Ah. Yes. Him. He will, be there as well.’

Your smile dipped too. You were trying to joke about the situation but you both knew, deep down, how strange everything had gotten.

There was a tension between all three of you, one that was strange and multilayered in ways you couldn’t discern beyond a constant, simmering, anxiety inducing pressure.

Miguel had remained on watch at your nest after the first time you mated in front of him, and for two days while you prepped he’d stuck to his stubborn word and remained. He’d mostly stayed outside, only coming in occasionally to ensure you were being ‘safe’ as he put it, but he never spoke a single word to either of you.

The only thing you’d noticed is that his eyes, when they fell on you, were no longer cold; they were burning hot, simmering and seething, filled with something unspeakably strong.

You shuddered at the thought.

Luckily Miguel was gone today as you were visiting the HQ, so he could monitor you there, but it felt like his presence was always hanging over your head.

‘Alright. Come on. Let’s go’ you said, gently urging him to follow you with a tap to his belly. For a moment he hesitated, his little paws tapping back and forth on the nest floor, but it was only for a moment. With your face beaming and urging him on he reluctantly followed.

You’d been prepared for Mig to struggle with the portal. He’d never gone through one before and everyone struggled at first, so you were as patient as possible with the big guy.

You just hadn’t expected how badly he’d take it.

The moment you stepped through the lack of weight and gravity seemed to throw him totally off balance. You were used to keeping with the flow, to angling your body so that you flowed seamlessly through the void of space time and out the other end, but Mig didn’t have that.

He immediately crashed into you and sent you both hurtling through the portal at a speed you could not keep up with.

You both rolled out of the portal at max velocity, his enormous body crashing into the HQ floor with such force that it cracked. In the safe, fluffy grip of his legs you were thankfully unharmed, but it didn’t stop you from being dazed. As he tumbled to a stop you gasped.

‘AH—Fuck, oh Mig I am so sorry, I should have done a trial run of—oh god—’

You tried to scramble out of his grip to check on him but he refused to let go. He was terrifyingly strong, with his spider legs folded in tight to his belly, pinning you to his abdominal underbelly.

‘Mig? Mig?’ you panted.

‘Mmm.’

His low groan vibrated right down to your core, and you nearly cried with relief. ‘Oh, Miggy. Are you okay?’

‘I did not enjoy that’ he said bluntly. You managed another breathy laugh. ‘No, no, I can tell.’

As his legs slowly loosened you crawled out from his grip and stumbled to the floor on all fours. You glanced up.

To your horror, hundreds of spiders were perched on every surface available, all of them staring directly at you. It was a sea of suits, a sea of bodies and eyes, all staring with a mix of disgust and curiosity. You turned and immediately patted Mig, urging him to stand.

‘Mig—Babe, uh—’

‘Argh—my, legs—who designed these portals?’ Mig grunted. He was struggling to stand as he unfolded his long legs. ‘They are not safe, didn’t you say there were quite young spiders who—’

A wide-ranging, multi layered gasp of horror momentarily interrupted Mig’s grumbling, finally drawing him to look around. Everyone was in a defensive position, their eyes trained on his body. You instinctively sank against his side.

‘Hey, hey, it’s okay’ you whispered to him. You could see his eyes sinking already. He tried to step forward, his claws outstretched, but when every spider jolted in fear he froze up.

‘Hey! Sorry, guys, don’t um—he’s safe, he’s fine’ you cried. You impulsively stepped forward with your hands raised, hoping to de-escalate the situation. ‘This is—Miguel, or uh, Mig? If that’s easier, he’s a variant, he’s safe! He’s fine!’

To your continued discomfort, nobody said or did anything.

‘Hey! You two!’

You turned to see Jess making her way through the ogling crowd. She seemed to be trying her best to ignore them. ‘There you are, you—did you break the floor? My lord—never mind. So, obviously you guys know about the mandatory work you gotta do before you can be sent on missions?’

You awkwardly nodded in response, but Mig was too fixated on the crowd staring him down. You’d never seen him look so small.

‘Okay, good’ Jess said, ignoring Mig’s discomfort. She just ticked a few boxes on her hologram. ‘You have a few today, just—do your best, you’ll be fine. I just needed to give you this to fill out for HR and then you can get to work.’

She handed you a pile of papers before turning back into the crowd. She paused briefly to gage the amount of spiders and their curious eyes.

‘HEY! What are we, a circus? Do none of you have work to do?’ she yelled. The overtone of her voice quickly scattered the spiders as they flung themselves in all directions, and with a huff she followed after them. You and Mig were left alone.

‘A whole… new world.’

You looked up to see Mig murmuring to himself. His eyes were fixed on the building, on the view of the world beyond the big glass walls. He shone with a deep melancholia.

‘A whole, new world. And… everything is the same.’

Your heart sank. You shyly took his paw in yours.

‘Well, that was… a bad start, but, it’ll get better. It’ll be fine. We’ll be-- fine’ you said.

…

You were wrong. The rest of the day wasn’t much better.

You had certain activities you had to finish before you were cleared. The society wasn’t a workplace, but it functioned like one, and you were constantly in life-or-death situations. That meant all relationships needs to be safe.

You were expected to do three things: mandatory couples therapy, de-escalation and crisis training, and monthly reviews with an elite.

All of them went terribly.

You went to HR to hand in your forms and found only one person waiting at the desk. They were curt, almost rude, rushing through your paperwork, and after leaving you peered through the door only to find six other people had been hiding behind desks. You heard them gossiping and left in shame.

At your first de-escalation training for couples, you couldn’t even fit Mig through the front door, and you were forced to both sit in the hallway with the door half open to listen in. Every other couple there barely focused on the course; they just stared at you both, making little whispers and comments to each other.

You ended up failing that session due to Mig’s heightened anxiety. Any mention of a scenario where you were hurt caused him to panic and clutch you close, with his fangs overproducing venom as a protection tactic. They had to tape off the area as a hazardous spill zone. More mess, more eyes, more morbid curiosity.

Even your mandated therapy was unbearably awkward. The therapist assigned kept making suggestive questions regarding your safety, your wellbeing, questioning if Mig had some kind of fetishistic problem.

It wasn’t just Mig though, or at least, not just his body. People were clearly fixated on your closeness.

At the start of the day you were as physically affectionate as you usually were, since that’s what you were used to. You kissed his claws and he held you with his forelegs, he would scratch your head and you would hold his hand.

But you could see, now, the overt morbid curiosity in those around you. Even when you tried to find time alone, either in corridor corners or darker rooms, you kept spotting people staring.

As the day wound on you got more and more stingy with your affection. Mig kept dropping your hand to avoid people staring at you, and you had to hide your kisses when they happened.

With every activity you attended you felt a little isolated, a little less welcome. You hadn’t expected it to be easy, or even good, but you just hadn’t anticipated how bad it would feel. You began to feel guilty for doing this to Mig.

After your last therapy session, you began making your way through the lobby together. It was here, whilst making small talk and enjoying the brief moment of solitude, that you felt the hair on your nape stand up. You turned.

Miguel was up in the rafters above, his masked eyes following your every move. In the shadows you could only see the deep, sharp red lines of his suit as they shifted.

‘You—fuck.’

With a hiss you turned and sped forward. Mig rushed to catch up.

‘Ah—arañita?’

‘It’s all him’ you hissed angrily. ‘It’s all- him! He’s spread it everywhere, because he’s trying to embarrass us into giving up!’

‘Who? You mean—’ Mig paused midsentence. He didn’t need to say it; he knew who you meant. You hurried into a small, darkened corridor between two other meetings rooms, a space where you could avoid any prying eyes.

‘That—fucking, asshole’ you whisper shouted. Mig squished himself into the tight space and tried to grab you for comfort, but you were too busy pacing. ‘Fucking—Who does he think he is? Why won’t anyone say anything to him?!’

‘Mi tesoro’ Mig whispered back. ‘what is it? What do you mean?’

‘He—’ you paused to breath as you felt that guilty tug in your gut once more. ‘I’m so sorry, Mig, I—I knew this would happen. I knew it. Miguel knew I wanted you to join, and he said he—he said if he did let you in, he’d make sure we, quote, would learn why he keeps his relationships private. Obviously he wants you to feel unwelcome.’

‘Ah—yes, that—sounds like something he would do’ Mig said slowly.

‘I’m so sorry, I really—I wanted you to feel better’ you stammered. ‘I wanted you feel, just… I don’t know. I wanted something. I wanted the OPPOSITE of this!’

‘Hey, hey, arañita. It’s okay’ he said softly. As his foreleg gripped your arm you felt a wave of hopelessness wash over you.

‘Is it okay?’ you whispered back. ‘Is it? Are you okay? After what he’s done?’

Mig opened his mouth, but no words came out. You could see it in the dim light; the flash of his red eyes as they drooped and narrowed, the way he looked down and to the side out of shame.

Not one person besides you had even acted neutral to him. They’d all treated him like an animal, a monster, without shame.

You didn’t want to call this effort a failure. He deserved to be loved, to be valued, to be heard, but how did you do that?

Something had to change. Even just one thing. You closed your eyes and sighed.

‘HI!’

You and Mig both jumped in unison as someone’s cheery voice erupted right against your ears.

Mig launched himself into protection mode. With his fangs bared and his claws spread he pushed you to his back, but it was you who stepped in to call him off when you realized who the assailant was.

‘No, no, wait—I know him!’ you stammered.

Mig obediently stayed his hand when told, and after checking you were safe he turned to the speaker.

Peter B was standing on the ceiling, his head upside but more or less at the same height as Mig’s. He beamed at you both. ‘Shoot, sorry—did I scare you guys? Wow that feels weird, me scaring the big spider’ he blurted in his usual chatty tone. You stepped forward to greet him.

‘Ah, hi! You’re uh—Peter, right? I mean that’s half the people here but—’

‘My name is Peter, yes, and as you just pointed out that’s really a lucky guess, but I’m ASSUMING what you mean is I’m Peter Peter, the uh—’

‘The sad one’ you said, far blunter than you’d usually be. He beamed and snapped his fingers.

‘There it is! Yes, that’s me. Or I was.’

‘R-Right. Well, um-- Hi! Can we, help you, with anything?’ you asked. You could sense Mig was still a bit tense, so you decided to step in and speak in his place.

Peter dropped to the floor with an oomph before responding. ‘Ah—well, sort of. I’m not here on an errand though’ he cheerily explained as he stretched. You raised a brow.

‘You’re not?’

‘Nope! I’m here for—him!’ With a gleeful squeal Peter turned to Mig, his eyes eagerly running up every inch of the man’s body. You saw Mig tapping his paws in confusion.

‘Have I- done, something offensive?’ Mig murmured awkwardly.

‘Oh, he’s exactly like I thought he’d be’ Peter cooed. ‘He’s so awkward! No, you haven’t done anything wrong. I just wanted to see if I could uh, tag along with you guys for a bit.’

‘You did?’ you and Mig both said in unison.

‘Oh you’re adorable’ Peter said with a dramatic sigh. ‘You’re both so… well, whatever. You don’t need me fawning over you. But yes! Obviously! Who wouldn’t wanna learn more about the Miguel variant with the spider body? I wanna hear everything!’

‘You do?’ You and Mig repeated together.

‘Yeah! I—look, I feel bad at how strict the others are being on you two. I mean I don’t get it, the whole, spider thing, I mean he is very handsome but the spider is a bit of a deal breaker for me. But I’m just like, hey, good for you guys, you know? Good that it works for you!’

You blinked in surprise as Peter continued to ramble.

‘Plus, look, uh—my wife, Mary, she—well, she’s pregnant!’ he squealed, ‘like, right now! Ah! And I don’t have anyone but Jess to talk to about relationships and I mean she’s always so busy, and Miguel can’t hear about baby stuff, but YOU two! You guys, I can talk to! So, can I? Can I uh—hang around for a bit?’

You glanced at Mig, expecting to see the same hesitation on his face as you felt in yours, only to find him utterly elated. He looked so happy.

‘Ah—yes, of course’ he stammered, his enormous abdomen shifting and vibrating. ‘Of course, a-absolutely. Let us, talk.’

Peter clapped his hands with joy, and you realized you had no other option.

‘GREAT! You guys wanna see the canteen?’

…

‘And I swear, I begged for HOURS, but Mary just wouldn’t come around to it! I said come on, what’s the worst thing that’s ever happened at a gender reveal party?!'

You chuckled politely as Peter finished his dramatic story, a sharp contrast to Mig who was erupting with his sweet, gruff, awkward laughter.

You were sat at a booth in the HQ canteen, with Peter on one side and you on the other, while Mig was awkwardly folded on the floor at the tables head. You’d tried to make room but there just wasn’t space.

You knew everyone was staring at you. You knew they were keeping their heads down so you didn’t suspect them of listening in, even though it was obvious they were. Even the people serving in the kitchen were craning their necks over the counters to watch.

You sank a little deeper into your chair.

‘Your mate sounds very responsible’ Mig said. He shuffled a little as a couple of people had to hop over his body to get around the corridor. ‘Ah—and it is, wonderful to hear your attempts to have offspring were successful. I don’t blame you for being excited. I would be, inconsolable in your position, from joy that is.’

‘Right! I’m just excited, like come on’ Peter said loudly as he grabbed a fry from his plate. ‘Like I was scared, you know? Who knows what my weird spider genes will do! It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.’

‘Yes. I worried about the same things’ Mig said softly. ‘With my biology being so… poorly constructred, I often lie awake wondering what I would create. But it is hard, to deny yourself something when it is so… close, to your heart. It is what I always wanted, and I know many like us feel that way.’

‘Oh—yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive’ Peter whispered. Mig shook his head.

‘No, no. As mi tesoro says, we’re all strange on the inside.’ Mig turned to you with a smile as he spoke, and you returned it.

‘Right! Sorry, sorry, ah— enough about me though, I have so many questions for YOU. How DID you two meet?’ Peter asked as he folded his hands over the table.

‘Oh, that is an interesting story. Mi arañita, do you—’ Mig turned and gestured with his claws, politely offering you the chance to step in. You quickly swallowed the single fries serving you’d ordered and tried to respond.

‘Oh—oh! Right, um—I was sent to fix an anomaly in his universe, it was my first proper mission and I uh… I, botched it, pretty badly.’

‘Don’t say that arañita, you did well considering the circumstances’ Mig cooed. You waved him off.

‘Yeah, yeah. Well, I messed up and needed help, everyone was busy but I remembered Miguel saying he had a variant in that universe. He said not to reach out, but, I did. And I met Mig.’

‘Yes, I—found them cowering beneath a tree. Such a handsome creature, I thought. So pretty. Que chula, that’s all I could say. I was so attracted I momentarily forgot that they likely would try to kill me out of fear’ Mig dreamily reminisced. Despite your anxiety your smile widened.

‘Oh, you, you’re such a romantic. I could tell’ Peter added as he circled his finger at Mig.

‘Anyway, they—did not hurt me, which I was glad of. I helped heal them and fixed their web shooter, and, they offered to return. To, spend time with me. So we kept doing that and—became friends’ Mig said, finishing the brief and work-friendly version of the story.

‘Oh, that’s— nicer than I was expecting, honestly, considering how we first met you’ Peter teased.

Mig missed the teasing and responded bluntly. ‘Yes! Well, that is the first half. After that, one day they happened to visit while I was rutting, and when I pleaded to mate them, they agreed. We became a mated pair from then on, which is why they were hiding at my house, the poor thing went into quite a severe heat due to my presence.’ His soft, satisfied smile never wavered as he recalled that day.

You could hear a pin drop in the canteen; Mig was talking, but nobody else was.

You immediately sank so low you almost fell beneath the table. Oh god, you thought, why. Why. Why. Why did he have to be so blunt.

You’d shown off in front of Miguel in relative private, sure, but this was different. That was to humiliate him. It made you feel powerful to be in Mig’s arms, beneath his body, but the eyes on you were turning that power to shame.

Peter maintained his smile, but you could see he was a little surprised at the blunt swerve in conversational tone. ‘I—I mean I wasn’t gonna ask about it, you know, it’s rude’ he stammered. ‘You don’t seem like a man who’d kiss and tell—’

‘You mean the mating?’ Mig asked. You shrank into your seat as his words echoed.

‘Ah—yes, the—is that what you call it?’

‘Is that not what it is?’ Mig asked as he tilted his head. ‘I believe that is the proper term. Or, do you mean, here it’s called sex? Because that is also what I meant, and I see no reason to hide it. We’re all sexually mature.’

You noticed Peter stifling laughter as he listened to Mig. Instinctively your stomach clenched; was he just here to make fun of Mig? To make fun of you both? Had you been tricked?

Luckily, Peter spoke before you could spiral further. ‘Oh, you’re so delightful! Isn’t he delightful? I can see why you like him’ he said with his finger pointed at you. ‘I wish I had the guts to say half this stuff, my god, the confidence! I love it! And I can tell he clearly likes you.’

‘Oh, they are—wonderful’ Mig purred in response. His abdomen began to vibrate as he closed his eyes, his thoughts lingering in memories of you in his arms. You gripped the table and begged for the strength to not physically slam your hand over his mouth.

‘Isn’t the size difference a little difficult though?’ Peter whispered. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but—’

‘I was worried about the same thing, but, they take me remarkably well’ Mig said calmly. You thought your teeth would crack, and yet still Peter seemed utterly unphased. ‘I always ensure that they’re not in pain and that they’re enjoying it, and I’ve never had issues.’

‘Oh, well that’s good to hear! I know it’s tough, having issues, especially in those uh—very, intimate areas, and especially I imagine when you’re uh—well, you! So, different! And so early on in a relationship, I mean my god you’re doing better than I did at this stage. You guys must really get along.’

Peter turned to you as he spoke, as if prompting you to engage with the conversation a little more. He must have noticed your silence. Unfortunately, you were still too mortified to really say much more.

‘Y-Yeah. Yeah’ you stammered, unsure of what more to say. Peter seemed to notice your hesitation; Mig did not.

‘Yes. I—I like them, a lot’ Mig said wistfully. ‘It’s not been easy, even now, adjusting to this—body, but… In truth, I feel more wanted now than I did when human. When I was, considered attractive. When I fit into places. That means the world to me. They are, priceless. Mi tesoro.’

You felt your face start to glow as Mig looked down at you in the booth. For just a moment, in that silent space with your eyes locked on, you recontextualized your embarrassment. You felt, guilt.

You were struggling with all the attention. You couldn’t deny that. You knew this was Miguel’s plan to pry you apart, to leave you at the mercy of their constant ridicule. The eyes on you, the constant judgement, it was rough.

But, seeing how happy Mig was, it made you wonder: why did you care?

He looked so happy as he gazed at you. His soft, affectionately creased eyes, his upturned lips showing the thick fangs beneath. What a pretty man.

And Peter, despite your initial reservations, didn’t seem phased at all.

When you’d had everyone’s approval, when you’d been just another replaceable spider doing everything routine and by the books, you’d been ignored. They hadn’t wanted you then, so why did it matter if they didn’t want you now?

Now, you had someone who did. Who cares that you were infatuated with a monster? At least you were wanted.

You smiled. ‘Mig, is… Wonderful, at what he does’ you said softly. ‘I really couldn’t ask for more. He’s so attentive, he—knits me suits, the pillows, and blankets, he refurbished his entire nest for me, he’s always making sure I’m well taken care of. He never raises his voice, never avoids me. I am… very, very, happy.’

The emphasis and tone you put on ‘happy’ was more than enough indication of your sincerity, and was certainly enough to put plenty of unwanted images in the heads of those listening. You didn’t care. You let them imagine, and you beamed up at the real thing.

‘PETER!’

You, Mig and Peter all turned as that chilling voice echoed through the canteen.

Miguel was walking stiffly down the canteen corridor, his eyes roaming. He seemed to be looking for someone, most likely the man he’d just called for.

‘Peter, you’re supposed to be on mission with me. You—’ Miguel paused. He looked up to see you and Mig, sitting comfortably with his friend at the table. The two people he'd been viciously targetting. The two people who had humiliated him in the worst way possible.

‘What is this?’ he hissed.

‘OH! Hey big guy, big fella, big boss man’ Peter cried back, cheery as ever. He didn’t seem to notice the tension as he hopped the back of the booth. ‘I was just making friends! I can say that, right, uh—Mig, is that what people call you? Can I use that?’

Peter spun back to Mig who, under pressure, immediately nodded. ‘Ah—yes, of course. Friends. Yes.’

‘GREAT! Great! Oh, I got two Miguel friends! I’ll catch you two around, okay?’

‘You sure will’ you replied. Peter waved you off as he clapped Miguel on the back.

‘Man those two are great. You never told me your variant was so nice! He’s hilarious!’

You could see that hot, burning anger in Miguel’s eyes even from here as Peter rambled on at him. It was barely disguised beneath his usual calm, collected expression.

You saw him realizing that, even by a small amount, his plan was failing. Mig was being treated as normal, and not by just anyone, but by someone close to him, someone who he could never let find out about your voyeuristic escapades.

Miguel grit his teeth as he tried to find any words to say. ‘Peter, you—’

‘Come on, my god—you were so urgent a minute ago.’ Peter laughed as he dragged Miguel away by the shoulder, and while the man’s eyes lingered on you both he did not strain against Peter’s grip. He reluctantly followed.

Back at the booth, you made a choice. You crawled up onto the table, pushing the fries aside, and with both hands you grabbed Mig’s face. You turned him physically, as he’d been gazing after Peter.

You smiled up at him without a care.

‘My Mig’ you said softly, and then you kissed him. He eagerly kissed you back. In front of the whole canteen you nestled into his fluffy forelegs and let him kiss you from your forehead to your chin.

It wasn’t exactly a perfect first day, but it was good. It was enough for now. Mig had one more friend than he’d had at the start.

But you knew, deep down, Miguel wouldn’t just let this go.

Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #smut with plot #arachnophilia #drider #miguel o'hara smut #drider miguel o'hara #monster human relationship #forbidden romance

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nouearth · 9 months

Text

12 Months

peter parker x male reader.

series: 12 Months. part i.

summary: where you couldn't possibly imagine to find love and sanctuary anywhere else, you somehow find it in the presence of a boy named peter.

wc: 4.3k. genre: angst. warnings: loner!reader, sad!reader, implied abuse, implied bullying, high school senior year, slow-burn.

a/n: i'm trying something new with my writing! mostly not using all lowercase because it became a pain to type on my phone, LOL. but i welcome you guys to my fully planned series! it's exciting, but especially kind of scary since school is coming up. i might put off requests to focus on this, if it does well, but if not, i'll slowly update. i guess the reader kind of hits close to home, a little too close, since i've been feeling some type of way recently. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy the first part!

SEPTEMBER.

The big hand of the clock flicked closer to the end of the day, the small hand circling around the circumference to pass time.

Conversations of peers were usually drowned out with the help of your earbuds. The gentle strum of acoustics would counter the excitement of the students’ well-being; friends opinionated in after-school activities, athletes talked about the upcoming game with your rival school, artists boasted over the amount of commissions they’ve received overnight.

For the first time, you heard it all, and took it all in with an inhale, then silence as you stared at Peter Parker. The earbuds were slotted into your ear canals, but today, the wired nubs were worn to merely dull your surroundings as you awaited the intercom to bid the occupants of the building farewell for the day. Your leg shook, bouncing your book bag atop of it, and you held it steady when you hugged it close to your chest, chin resting at the strap. It appeased the throttle in your chest, but every time the classmate opened his mouth for a laugh, it swelled painfully larger. A pump to the husk of a balloon, a breath to the bubble of blue raspberry bubblegum, a vapor to the particles of billowed smoke, it continued swelling and roped your anxiety along for the journey. A part of you needed to talk to him, but the other part begged for reconsideration.

At some point, you forgot to breathe. Feeling blue in the cheeks, you finally exhaled the caught nerves. They drew out of you in shivers, spaghetti boiling in bubbling water if the warmth of your breath could change matter. While the man listened, then talked within his small group of friends, chairs and desks were gathered around to form a circle, you examined him cautiously. If Peter was to turn his head and meet the affection in your gaze, you were lucky to have the window by your side to turn back to, feigning interest in the clouds, the sky, the breeze in the trees. Until then, his smile unmasked pearly whites that rivaled the lights that illuminated the classroom. His russet hair was pushed back, wavy locks that were brushed simply so people could easily follow the pattern with one glance.

“Gooooood Afternoon, Midtown!” The intercom blared, and a warning from your teacher hushed your classmates into a sea of scatters. “Before we send you kiddos off, we would like to remind all of you that the Midtown Tigers will be playing against Weston’s Sea Hawks tonight! Show your support by attending the game and cheering for our team. Let’s show those dirty hawks that tonight will be the night that we can bounce back from our 18th consecutive loss!” It continued with its usual announcements of bus delays and afternoon activities before finally blaring that cathartic bell.

Footsteps crowded the halls, and your classmates joined its symphony in heavy to light strides. While you watched, your pace slowed deliberately as Peter’s friends bid him farewell. You overheard them asking him if he was going to join them in the mall, but he declined, blaming his absence on his aunt. They left one by one, until the only occupants were you, your teacher, and Peter.

“Peter?” You were up on your feet, approaching him from the back of the classroom as you slung the bag over your shoulder. Your voice cracked from the parched of your throat, mousy in performance, and you were unsure if Peter heard you. Your mouth opened again to call to him again, but he turned with a friendly smile, raising his brows in interest, and they closed.

“Oh, hey!” His face lit up when he saw you, or maybe you were convincing yourself. Not even your reflection looked at you the way Peter did. You were even surprised he recognized you. Cared to remember you. He hurriedly threw his books into his backpack before swinging it over his shoulder, meeting you in the middle of the row of desks. “What’s up?”

“I…” You’ve only spoken to him twice. The first was a mere greeting, and the second was a painful answer to his worry.

Are you okay? Yes.

The beating in your chest hiked in rhythms, compelled gravity to rob your voice, but you were conscious enough to steal it back, softly speaking. “I just want to thank you for… last year. I never got to… properly thank you. So, thank you…” You were intoxicated by the amount of times you said those appreciative words, but gratitude sobered you up, offering the latter a small, grateful smile.

“Oh…” The smile on Peter’s face simmered into a relieved line. He then nodded towards the door for you to follow him, and you did, silently by his side. “You don’t have to thank me, (M/N). I did what anyone would do.”

Everyone let it happened, except for you.

The hallway was quick to clear as students rushed to spend the remaining hours of their Friday without any regrets. The silence was deafening except for the squeak of your shoes and the whispered gossip between faculty members, and for a place you often labeled as your personal hell, it wasn’t so bad when it was purged of those that spawned that definition in your life.

Maybe you were walking slower, or you were keeping with Peter’s pace, or the hallways had undergone construction to stretch the floors, or the awkward silence between the both of you that blurred your perception, but the travel from your classroom to the exit of the building was a journey.

“Is he still bothering you? I don’t know if he’s in your other classes, but he’s not in mine, so…” Peter spoke up, alluding to the classmate who called you disgusting names, shoved your books to the floor, stole the change of your clothes during gym. And you wished it would stop there, at the actions of the cliché bully trope, but it never did. He pushed the door open, politely letting you out first, and you stepped into the warmth with a small thank you,’ and continued walking with him. Summer cicadas harmonized in their greeting.

“No, not anymore.” You lied, dropping that hand that once held onto the padded straps of your backpack to your side. The dark color of your pants masked the bruise on your wrist when you shoved it deep into your pocket. “I have him in a few of my classes, but luckily he’s preoccupied with his friends.”

“Geez, you got his friends too? That’s… gotta be a loud classroom.” He laughed, and you joined in to delude yourself, and Peter, into thinking everything was okay.

The sound of multiple engines running within the yellow busses reminded you how incredibly enamored you were with Peter. By now, motors would’ve been buried by earbuds, and the walk wouldn’t have been so deafening to your ear canals. But hearing Peter’s voice soothed the damage, and you wished you had a playlist of him saying your favorite words, reading your favorite novels, rescuing you with worried comfort. You wanted to continue the conversation, change the subject, but you never knew how, so it fell to silence. Again.

“I’ll see you around, Peter.” You spoke softly again, paused when you and Peter reached the end of the sidewalk. You were familiar with Peter’s route. He lived in the opposite side of your street, and the curved path to the right practically led him back to his apartment. All he had to do was follow the beige pavement. “…and thank you, again. It means a lot.” A genuine smile, one that you haven’t been able to sprout for weeks, months you could argue, and Peter’s breath hiked.

“Of course…” It took his breath away. The cloudy day was drawing in the last of its colors, but the rare hint of your teeth, the curve of your lips, made the sky above him, behind you, bloom in the softest blues, yellows, and whites. Selfishly, he wished you smiled more, because the release that was pulled from him evened the astonishment of a child seeing stars for the very first time.

“I’ll see you around, (M/N).”

OCTOBER.

The workload in your classes had picked up, and with the part-time job at the local bookstore, you were envious of customers who had finished their backlog of novels. Mainly working adults. Still, there was never enough hours in the day to immerse yourself in the world of a brave protagonist, slaying off demons and dragons in the pursuit of love. You never got to finish the fantasy novel you were reading, but you’d imagine it ended with the hero beheading the fire-breathing behemoth, and its head would be pridefully worn on a stick like cotton candy. Cheers erupted when the character returned, then roared when their love blessed them with one thankful kiss.

The ladder was anchored to the wooden, though creaky, floors as you held your breath from inhaling dust. When the door was pushed open by curious passersby, particles of dust sailed with the draft that was invited in, and you coughed into the crook of your arm whenever one floated into your throat. Though, you couldn’t be too annoyed. It also provided a test to see if the Halloween decorations could withstand the wind as they sat on hooks that were nailed into the ceilings. Spirals of orange and black ribbons roped cartoonish gravestones, black cats, pumpkins, skulls, ghouls, all the mascots of the holiday, from above. The draft animated them in gentle swings, delicate arcs that cooled the confined space of the bookstore, but as far as you could tell, none of them had landed on the ground.

“Looks great, (M/N)! I think we’re good on the hanging decorations!” Your manager, Anna, gave the metal ladder a strong pat before tending to the fallen dust. It shook in fear, and you did too, immediately clutching to the fly to stabilize it.

“Any else? We still haven’t decorated the windows.” You climbed down cautiously, making sure she was in your line of sight because for all you could know, she could be an omen.

“The stick on the ones I got suck, so I was thinking that we’ll decorate it on Halloween? Before opening?” She said, opening the door after to sweep out the culprits of your coughing fits.

“Sounds good.” You collapsed the extension of the ladder once you stepped off, folding it into a thicker shape, and nodded before returning the ladder to its rightful place in the storage room.

“Doing anything fun for Halloween?! Parties?!” Anna’s voice boomed despite the door muffling it. The natural luminous of her voice was something you usually cowered away from, especially when she called for you in front of customers. Luckily, the store was closed, vacant of any witnesses to the flare of your cheeks. Cardboard boxes stacked atop of one another, and for some reason, you were suddenly determined to face your procrastination head-on. “Horror movies?!”

“Uh…” The volume of your voice was still muted despite forcing yourself to make it sonorous. It came out in staggered breaths as you flattened the boxes with your weight, stepping on them at the crease and fold, until you were able to fold them into neat, flat shapes. “Not really! I usually don’t do anything for celebrations.”

“Seriously?” The sound of sweeps came closer to you. They sounded like laughs, almost as if they were mocking you. When you looked up, it was Anna’s fretted expression that reminded you that they were just sounds. No one was here to hurt you. Laugh at you.

It was just you and Anna. And sounds.

“Mm-hmm.” You simply answered, packing the flattened boxes into a trash bag before storing it back to where the stack previously harbored. The room felt bigger now. You exited after switching off the lights, and took Anna’s broom to sweep up the fuzzy stray materials of cardboard.

“How come?” Her shoulder supported her leaning stance as she pressed to the wall, watching you diligently work with crossed arms. She gasped out of realization. “Oh no—did something horrible happen on Halloween? Is that why you don’t celebrate?!”

“No, nothing like that!” You laughed. It was always genuine with her. Anna was at least twenty years older than you, but she still kept the youthfulness of a child. You were envious of it.

“I just…” Big sweeps to walnut flooring kept your mind at ease. The thick hairs brushed evenly, catching lint in the hay. They clung protectively onto the strands the more you brushed, the harder as well. It reminded you of nights, lonesome in your bed. No matter how hard you tried to remove those pesky lints, they always stayed. Always found a way to intrude. “—don’t have parties to go to.”

Nor did you have friends to watch movies with, or a willing family to celebrate with if all plans fell through. It’s been you since you can remember, and you’ve gotten used to it. Though, you’d never admit that to her.

The trail of your voice and the mindless polishing of walnut immediately foiled your discreet speech, but Anna knew better than to prod. From the day you came in for the interview, she remembered the timidness of your slouch, your pattern of speech, your orbs. One could argue that they were nerves, universal tremors one every eighteen year old got when applying for their first job. Then, she trained you. It was just you and her, and the shelves of delicate books. Over the next few weeks, Anna learned that you were as frail as the old spine of donated hardbacks.

Her knowledge of you only sank surface-deep, barely a scratch or a wound. At one point, she thought it was because of her personality: chipper as a mourning dove, loud as her neighbor’s lawnmower on Sundays, but compared to how she met you five months ago, it delighted her to see progress. Slowly but surely, you opened up to her. She knew your favorite color, your favorite meal, your favorite novel, and she was no longer insecure. There will be a time when she’d meet the root of your soul, and if it took a month, a year, or another, she’d wait.

“Everything okay at school?” She’s been meaning to ask. It was an exciting time for a new business, but incredibly stressful as well. Most never made it after six months, especially within an industry where independent bookstores have become increasingly difficult to sustain with the presence of technology. Anna was just fortunate enough to have seen such quick growth.

Anna took the broom from your hand, stashed it back in the storage room, then guided you to a table for two near the entrance of the store. It was her favorite spot because she loved seeing the wonderment of her customers when they left with the book they couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Yeah,” You quickly answered and offered her a simple smile, devoid of any purpose but to pacify her worries. It worked on your parents, and you liked to think that it worked on Anna as well. “Well, they’re doing some construction in the school gym. I heard that they’re planning to add a room for—“

“That’s great, (M/N), but…” Her arms remained crossed, below her chest, and she nodded to the bruise on your cheek. Purple bloomed high on your cheekbone. Occasionally, it throbbed whenever a draft hit your frail skin. You assumed it was its way to kiss it better, and so you would let it in seek of sating the empty feeling in your stomach. “That. I meant the bruise…”

“Oh—“ Out of instinct, your hand reached up to dab at the purpling skin. Numbed at the first layer, but you pressed deeper, and you hid a jolt with a sudden clear of your throat. “Uh… cat— got me. My mom always said to never play with strays.”

It was a lame excuse and you knew it. Anna did too. Before you could see her face scrunch into a stew of concern, you turned the bruised cheek away and looked to the heights of the sky, out the window, and wished you could fly into the night.

On Halloween, the promotion regarding a sale on donated books, though only paperbacks, if you wore a costume propelled the place to a considerable height. The small size of the store felt even smaller, even more so as Anna’s playlist Halloween music blared in the wall stereo. The sound waves and chatters of excited customers confined you, and you shrunk yourself in corners where it would be coldest. Anna took care of the crowd of patrons, while you assembled the paperbacks in a neatly order within the shelves.

Anna didn’t expect you to comply in participating in the event of Halloween, so the elation in her face was immediately framed in your mind when she hugged you tight, bruising enough to beckon the former bruise on your cheek to reappear, in your Where’s Waldo outfit. Simple, but you were a simple man.

“Excuse me?” An inquisitive voice tore your focus from arranging the novels in alphabetical order. You were kneeling to fill the lower shelf that was too low for anyone to comfortable browse through, but maintained the position as the crowd seemed to have closed in on you. “Do you know if this book qualifies for the sale, or is it paperback only?”

You looked up through your artificial glasses, and the size of your eyes matched the roundness of your frames when it embarrassingly didn’t take you very long to uncover who was under the layer of green face paint. “Peter?”

“O-oh! (M/N), you work here?” His eyes also widened, but he was sober enough to reach his hand out for you to grab onto. “That’s fitting, I guess. You always went to the library during lunch—I-I mean, not that I watch you or anything. I just— happened to notice…” The heat from your palm jumped onto Peter’s when you held on and pulled yourself to your feet. You weren’t sure what to respond to first, but the closed distance between you and Peter was distracting. A fleeting feeling in your chest, and it still overstays it welcome when you backed a step away.

Peter’s never been so close to you. He could smell the scent of ocean mist that he likened to previous shopping trips ago. His aunt may would drag him to the nearest retail store and he’d spend every second of the agonizing trip smelling laundry scent boosters while she stocked up on the pantry. He laughed to himself. You seemed like the type to use those.

“Thanks, uh…” You carefully took the hardback in your hand, examining it with several cycles of flips. It was in mint condition. Usually, a poorer state allowed an extra discount. “The sale is only for paperbacks, but…” Your eyes scanned the room. Fewer people now. Anna was still busy entertaining those that came to participate in the costume contest, a sudden endeavor to drive engagement.

“I can make an exception.” There was a swell in Peter’s heart when you gave him a smile, an uncertain small one, but nonetheless, a smile that warmed his insides. He wouldn’t have minded if he had paid full price anyhow, but he also wouldn’t reject the opportunity to save money.

He followed your steps to the back, away from the engaged crowd, and stilled as you began checking him out. “Just one book?” You looked up, and his lips were already parted as if he was about to say something, but he nodded instead.

Another moment of silence as you took his card after applying the sale to his book, and your fingers drummed to the beat of the music to fill it out, awaiting the receipt to print out. Whenever you had the courage to look at him, he was immersed in the ambiance of the bookstore. Smiling to himself, to Anna, to the laughter of the crowd, and you couldn’t help but hide one yourself, to the ground. When Peter faced you again, you quickly looked away in time, and the receipt rolled out in one smooth motion.

“How are you? Is it always this busy? I’ve never heard of this place.” Peter had a habit of stacking multiple questions with his own observations, with statements, with more questions. Rambles, people would call it. He was attentive, curious, and it all made him the more endearing.

“I’ve been doing okay. Tired, mostly. Miss Wilson’s been keeping me up though.” It was your attempt at a joke, and luckily, it landed when Peter laughed in agreement, elated as if he’d been waiting for the culprit of all-nighters to be of subject.

“Right?!” Peter shook his head when you asked if he wanted a bag, and continued, tucking the book in his armpit when you returned it to him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love her—she’s awesome. But chill out on the essays! An essay about our essays is a task sent from the devil himself.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, and a wider smile brimmed your face in support. For the first time, you felt compelled to talk, to engage into conversation. “Yeah, I missed a few deadlines, but she’s pretty lenient with late work, thankfully.”

“Really? I have a feeling it’s because it’s you! You’re probably her favorite student since you always get the right answers when she calls on you.” He laughed again to escape the awkwardness of his compliment. Subtle, but he hoped you took it pridefully.

Peter looked to the side to see if anyone was coming to conclude their purchase for the night, and was delighted to see the hardwood floor left unattended. “Are you doing anything after this? It’s Halloween, so I imagine people are probably out partying or something.”

“I’m not really a party person.” You nodded to assure yourself, mindlessly rearranging the supplies around the desk to avoid the gaze of his eyes. It sucked you in once, couldn’t look back even if you tried. It was only when Peter turned himself away that you were no longer staring into warm chestnuts. “I only dressed like this since I’d probably look a little out of place if I showed up in my usual uniform, haha.”

“You look cu—“ Peter hurriedly cut himself off, frantic before smiling again. “Nice. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” You returned his smile, soft in form. “What about you? Are you doing anything?”

“Well, I’m not a party person either—oh! There’s this new horror movie that came out a week ago! I’ve been dying to see it,” Peter sparked, gently bouncing on his toes as hope frayed within his words. “If you’re free, would you want to watch it with me?”

“Oh—“ For the first time, you had the option to say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and for some reason, Peter was always at the crime of your firsts. “W-what time? I’ll have to see if it’s okay with Anna if—“

“Let me see…” Light reflected off of Peter’s faced as he searched on his phone, but a buoyant smile that revealed his teeth shined brighter. “One showing at eight, another at ten, and one final one at midnight!”

“Is… midnight okay?” You hesitantly asked, and Peter brightened.

“Midnight is perfect.”

When you left from work, you didn’t bother to call for your parents. It would’ve gone to voicemail anyhow. Instead, Anna took the excited initiative to drive you to the theater despite your assurance that walking would’ve sufficed.

Nonsense! I’m getting my coat. Hold on! Stay right there!

The mystery of what held the rest of the night for you frightened you to the core. What if everything went downhill from here? What if Peter never showed up? What if this had been a prank all along? During the car ride, you breathed, and breathed, and breathed.

And then, breathed.

Inhaled.

Blew in one continuous breath.

Inhaled.

Your chest ran steady again.

That night, Peter made you feel normal. As normal as someone like you could be.

You didn’t plan on getting your fingers buttery, but Peter assured you that his popcorn wasn’t going to finish itself. You shared your sour gummies in return. Peter jumped when a ghost flew to the screen, and you did the same from his own erratic movements. You watched the film through half-closed eyes, peeking between the cracks of your greasy fingers, prepared to be startled by the sound of a door closing, and you laughed silently to yourself because it was silly when you flinched to a cat scurrying away.

While you focused, the structure of your nose and lips, your entire side profile, were handsomely illuminated by the flickers of the screen and Peter took in the animation of your presence, a behemoth contrast of the you he’d known silently for years; the you that kept to himself, ate at lunch by himself, did group projects by himself, studied in the library by himself, walked home by himself. It was pathetic, many would heckle to their circle of friends. Peter overheard the tease and taunts, and he wanted to defend you in those moments. But he couldn’t, not until he knew you.

When you felt the air thicken, you turned to Peter and his gaze unfurled the heavy cloud between the two of you until it vanished into smoke. It sucked you in; his eyes. And you stared wide-eyed, bewildered and lost in the sea of broken stars the screen illustrated in Peter’s orbs. They twinkled with every cut of the scene, sparkling under the terror of the performer’s haunting, until they no longer didn’t when he turned away.

Crimson blanched and wilted into his face, radiated even in the dark when you followed and turned back to the screen. You felt your cheeks rivaling in swatch.

For the first time, you weren’t scared.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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