jedijesi

[jedijesi]

i would throw myself in front of a carriage and happily be trampled my a dozen horses for arthur to take care of me😭🙏

Reader has a cut or bad bruise on her shin and Arthur has to lift her skirt all the way up to her knee to look at it (How scandalous!! 🫣🫣)

🌹anon

Warnings/MDNI: Age gap (you are in early 20's and Arthur is 30-31), fluff, him being lovesick- b(￣▽￣)

┆ ⤿ ❀ m.list

You don’t even know why you’re walking funny.

Okay, you do.

You tripped.

On a bucket.

A stupid, traitorous bucket someone left by the horses. Now there’s a bruise blooming on your shin and a limp you’re desperately trying to hide.

But Arthur’s eyes track you like a damn hawk.

"You’re limpin’."

"No, I’m not. It’s jus' the ground’s uneven."

"You are."

You try to walk faster. He walks faster. You slow down. He slows down. You finally stop and throw your hands in the air.

"I tripped on a bucket, alright? I’m not dyin’. Go play lawman somewhere else."

He squints, already crouching down in front of you before you can escape. "Lemme see."

"No."

"Darlin’."

"I’m not pullin’ up my skirt in front of half the camp so you can stare at my legs."

Arthur smirks faintly. "Fine."

You blink. "Fine?"

Before you can ask what he means, his large hands are already guiding you backwards, firm but careful. You stumble slightly, and the next thing you know, you’re being sat down on an old crate like some misbehaving schoolgirl.

"Arthur-"

"Lemme take a look," he says calmly, crouching in front of you. One hand wraps around your ankle, steady and warm. The other slides up to your calf, rough thumb brushing your skin as he gently but firmly pushes your skirt up past your knee.

You freeze.

Scandalous.

Unthinkable-

"Arthur!-"

"Relax. I ain’t lookin’ at nothin’ you don’t want me to see."

But he’s focused now, all trace of teasing gone, eyes narrowed at the angry bruise blooming across your shin.

You freeze.

"Arthur-"

"Damn," he mutters. "That’s worse than I thought."

"Saw it? Happy now?"

You try to pull your skirt back down. He stops you with a warm palm on your knee.

"You really weren’t gonna tell me?"

"It’s just a scratch!"

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just breathes in slow, jaw tense, thumb ghosting around the tender skin like he’s scared to make it worse.

"You shouldn’t’ve been walkin’ on this," he murmurs finally, voice low and gravel-soft.

"I told you it's nothing, stop," you mutter, but even you know that’s a lie.

Arthur huffs through his nose , not angry, just... aching. Then, before you can react, he leans down.

His lips press softly to the edge of the bruise.

You stiffen, heartbeat thudding so loud you’re sure he hears it. But Arthur doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even look up.

He kisses a little further up, where the swelling dips. Another kiss, right over the worst part. Feather-light, like he thinks love might mend what ointment can’t.

"You’re killin’ me," he whispers between kisses. "Walkin’ around like this... actin’ like you’re made of stone when I know damn well you’re not."

His hand smooths up the side of your leg, never straying, just holding you steady.

"I’d take this pain if I could. Hell, I’d take ten of ’em. Rather me than you."

You swallow, staring at the top of his head. "Arthur..."

He looks up at you, finally, eyes soft, lips still brushing your skin. "Next time you’re hurtin’, you tell me. I ain’t lettin’ you suffer in silence. Not when I’m here to do somethin’ about it."

He looks up at you then, expression unreadable. "It’s you. There ain’t such a thing as 'just' when it comes to you."

You open your mouth, something snarky ready on your tongue-

But he kisses your knee. And it’s not just tenderness now, it’s possession. A quiet, firm declaration:

Mine.

"Arthur, I---OH!"

Sean. Again.

"Didn’t see nothin’, I swear-"

Arthur doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Just turns his head slightly, voice cold as a rifle barrel.

"You keep lookin’, Sean, and I’ll make sure you walk funny too."

The poor Irishman turns full-circle on his heel the moment he catches sight of Arthur crouched between your knees, your skirt hiked up to your thighs.

"Already gone!" Sean yells over his shoulder. "Didn’t see a damn thing!"

Arthur sighs, visibly restraining the urge to commit a murder. "I’m gonna kill him one of these days."

"Oh, perfect, I always dreamed of being camp gossip. Really, thanks, Arthur, you lumbering oaf."

Arthur smirks, brushing his thumb gently over the edge of the bruise. "Good. Maybe now someone’ll finally marry you."

You swat at his shoulder. He catches your hand, kisses the inside of your wrist, then the other.

"I ain’t lettin’ you walk ‘round like this anymore. You fall, you yell for me."

"I tripped over a bucket, Arthur."

He leans in, lips brushing the inside of your knee , "Next time you fall,” he murmurs, "I better be the one catchin’ you."

You think you're in the clear.

You think maybe Arthur’ll kiss your wrist one last time and let you limp off with whatever pride you have left.

But then he straightens up and, before you can react, hooks an arm under your knees and the other around your back.

“Arthur, NO---ARTHUR, what are you doing?!"

He lifts you off the ground like you weigh nothing, settling you against his chest while your skirt flutters traitorously in the breeze.

"Gettin’ you off that leg before it gets worse."

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU-"

"Relax, darlin'."

You glance around, and half the camp has stopped what they’re doing.

Karen drops her coffee. Tilly’s grinning. Charles doesn’t even bother hiding his chuckle. Bill looks confused, but that’s normal.

And Sean? Sean’s somewhere in the distance screaming, "I TOLD Y’ALL THEY WAS CANOODLIN"!"

You bury your face in Arthur’s shirt. "This is humiliating."

"Nah. This is me takin’ care of what’s mine."

Your heart skips. You don’t reply. You can’t.

He lowers his voice near your ear, tone suddenly soft again. "You think I care what they say? I’d carry you every day if it meant you didn’t walk a step in pain.”

You go quiet. Your hand slowly grips the fabric at his chest.

He walks you straight to his tent, ignoring every whistle, every stare, every amused comment.

You hiss again as he gently lowers you onto the cot like he’s handling glass.

"See? Not so bad," he says, brushing your hair from your face.

"I hope you know that I hate you."

He grins. "Love you too, pretty girl".

He props your foot on his thigh once more, knees bent as he kneels beside the cot. The warmth of his palm settles over your shin, and you watch in silence as he unscrews the bottle and soaks the cloth.

"This might sting," he says, voice softer now.

The first dab burns, and you tense , but his other hand immediately slides up to steady your thigh, thumb rubbing slow, absentminded circles into your skin.

"You ever think about being a nurse?"

Arthur chuckles low in his throat. "Only for you, sweetheart."

When the bruise is clean, he tears off a strip of bandage with his teeth and starts wrapping, slow and methodical. His hands are rough from years of gunpowder and rope, but he handles you like you’re something fragile.

He ties the knot off neatly, then rubs his thumb once over the finished wrap like he’s sealing it.

"You didn’t have to do all that," you sigh, thankful it's over.

"Course I did," he says, setting your leg down gently. "You’re my girl. Gettin’ hurt’s not just your problem anymore."

You don’t reply, you couldn't, not with the way your chest aches at his words. So instead, you let him lift the blanket back up over your legs, tucking it around you with the same care he’d give a wounded bird.

Then, without a word, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the bandage. One more to your ankle. And one just over your knee, slow and reverent.

"You rest," he whispers, brushing your hair back again. "I’ll be right here, darlin'."

And he means it. He doesn’t leave the cot, just settles beside it on the ground, arms folded on the edge, head resting close to your hip, watching over you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

Because to him, you are.

AN: to be cared for like this-🤧

[jedijesi]

my type fr🙌🥰

also my mom said we can have a sleep over if it’s ok with ur mom🥺

bitch you write arthur morgan too?!

that shit just made my year stg🙏 so imma need us to be like best friends now🫶 love u queen

what can I say i love old southern men with dead kids who die in the second instalment of their game series

also ofc we can be besties but your mom has to ask my mom first if it’s okay with her ☺️☺️☺️

[jedijesi]

SPECTACULAR GIVE ME 14 MORE OF THEM RN! 🙌

Beck and Call

18+ MDNI!

Summary: You’ve been divorced from Joel for a little while, now. But when your sink breaks and threatens to flood your house right before a date, you have no one else to call but him. Why does he come? You don’t know. Why does he look so fucking good? You don’t know, either.

W.C: ~6.2k

TL;DR: Rule number one of getting divorced: don’t fuck your ex-husband. (Optional).

Warnings: ex-husband!joel x ex-wife!reader, sappy love confessions, improper use of a sink, praise, oral f!receiving, mirror sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, (no outbreak!)

Note: as a child of divorce, i am allowed to touch upon this matter. anyway, happy fucking i mean reading

Part One | Part Two

One-third. A married couple’s least favourite fraction. 

It was (and is) a well-known fact that one in three marriages ends in separation. And of course, you—being the lucky duck you were—found yours rapidly accelerating toward that destination.

You and Joel had agreed that you’d be better off apart. Joel got his own place while you kept the house. And Sarah lived with you every other week.

All you needed to do was send your attorney the signed divorce papers.

Outside of the sympathetic comments you received from acquaintances and relatives almost daily, you were doing just fine.

In fact, tonight you had a date.

A date. The kind that made you choose a tight-fitting dress that hugged your curves just right. The kind that inspired you to wear your hair in something other than a claw clip. The kind that provoked you to shave places you haven’t shaved in a long time.

The lucky bachelor was a fellow divorcee named Mark, whom you had met on a single-parent dating app. He had a full head of hair, a decent sense of humour, and two rescued Labradors. He offered to bring you to his favourite Italian restaurant, bringing up the fact that he’d pick up the bill no matter what, much to your protests. Needless to say, you had a good feeling about him.

After one last check in the mirror, you grabbed your coat and slung your purse over your shoulder, ready to head out the door.

Then, you heard it.

A faint gurgling. 

You blinked twice, trying to zero in on the sound. Proceeding a few moments of intense concentration, you followed the sound into the ensuite bathroom.

The faucet was running. Had you forgotten to turn it off?

You reached for the handle. Twisted it. It spun freely, and nothing happened. 

You tried and tried again, but all your efforts were in vain. You could only watch the tap stubbornly defy you as the handle jutted uselessly, loose in its socket.

“Shit.” You breathed.

The faucet sputtered out a particularly heavy spurt of water as if to say: shit, indeed.

You sighed, staring helplessly at the sink as it stared contumaciously back, water that couldn’t be swallowed by the drain toppling over the edge of the sink.

A quick Google search informed you that you needed to turn off the principal water pipe—the mains. Which you didn’t know how to do. 

So, you resolved to delegate the problem to more capable hands. Like, a twenty-four-hour plumbing service. No, they could easily overcharge you. You could call your dad? No, he was too far.

Or…

Sighing, you dug out your phone from your purse and called your only remaining option. Someone who was a seasoned contractor, someone who dealt with this sink before, and someone who you just so happened to be divorcing. 

He answered on the third ring.

“Hey—everything okay?” Joel’s concerned voice filtered through your phone.

“No.” You inhaled. 

“No?” Joel echoed hesitantly, then waited for elaboration.

When nothing came, he cleared his throat.

Slightly confused, slightly wry, he continued, “This is the part where you tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Um, my sink’s busted.”

“Your sink… is busted?”

“Yeah. Faucet won’t turn off. It-It’s a lot of water.” You bit the inside of your cheek, leaning on the wall. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

A moment of silence, then:

“You need me to fix it?” 

Was that annoyance? Exhaustion? It definitely wasn’t exhilaration at the prospect of doing manual labour at eight o’clock on a Friday evening.

“You know what? Forget I called. This was stupid. Sorry to bother you—”

“I’m on my way.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, after he hung up, the smallest of smiles began forming on your face. 

Fifteen minutes later, a knock came from your front door.

You swung the door open, and there he stood. Tool bag in hand, flannel shirt stretching tightly over his broad shoulders, salt-and-pepper hair just a little bit unkempt.

It had been a good few months since the two of you went your separate ways, but there he was—still at your beck and call. What that meant, exactly, remained to be seen. 

But you were glad to see him, nonetheless.

“Hi,” You said breathlessly.

Upon seeing you, Joel’s brows shot up, and he blinked a few times.

“Hi.” He said back slowly, then cleared his throat. “Am I… interruptin’ something?”

You glanced down. Right. Tight dress and makeup.

“I have a date in…” You raised your left wrist and winced as you looked down at your watch. “Five minutes ago.”

“A date.” He clicked his tongue, nodding to himself. “Well, I’ll try to make this quick, then.”

You hummed a noise of agreement, pivoted, and, with a wave of your hand, invited Joel inside.

He stepped through the doorway with a quiet grunt. And, as he bent down to undo his boots, his coffee-brown gaze landed on a pile of unopened mail by the entryway table. A few envelopes had slipped to the floor, and he crouched to gather them without thinking. 

But, as he straightened up to his full height, his eyes lingered on the recipient line.

“Mrs Miller?” Joel read aloud.

“What?” Your breath caught in your throat, and you spun around to meet his stare.

Joel wordlessly held the envelope up with two fingers, the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

“Oh.” You cringed inwardly. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t, uh, realise that you were keepin’ the name.” He shrugged offhandedly, tossing the stack of mail onto the entryway table.

“I’m not. I just…” You ran a hand through your hair. “Paperwork isn’t final.”

For the divorce.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched together. “I sent you my signed copies, if—” 

“I know you did. I just haven’t sent the papers to my lawyer yet.” You pressed your lips into a thin line and avoided his gaze. “Just got a lot on my plate, recently.”

That was very unconvincing.

Joel hummed a noncommittal noise.

“Well…” He huffed sheepishly. “You know I always liked my name on you.”

You swallowed, feeling your stomach do a funny flip and your ears burn up. Why were your ears burning up?

“C’mon. The problem is upstairs.”

The faucet, to your dismay, hadn’t stopped. It was worse now, if that was even possible, spitting little rogue sprays of water alongside the main stream. Great.

You checked your watch again. Fifteen minutes late. You would no doubt have a few missed calls from your poor suitor if you had the guts to check your phone.

Joel sank to one knee as he inspected the sink, squinting at the appliance and shaking his head. Miraculously, he reached in and, a few rusty squeaks later, the water stopped.

“You fixed it.” You blinked.

“Far from it,” He muttered, frowning. “The cartridge’s shot. And the valve stem’s stripped. Who installed this?”

Without missing a beat, “You did.”

“…Right.”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest. “So?”

“So, this isn’t a quick fix. I need to pull out the whole assembly. Maybe replace the handle, too. And judging by the corrosion around this nut—” He held up a discoloured metal hexagon like it had personally offended him. “You’ve probably had a leak back here for a while.”

You blinked. “And you didn’t notice that when you lived here?”

Joel turned to shoot you a look. “I was your husband, not your handyman.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn I married you for that toolbox of yours.”

“And here I thought it was ‘cause of my radiant personality.”

“Definitely not that.” You huffed out a laugh.

Despite his back being turned to you, you could just about make out a reluctant smile forming through his slightly greying stubble.

You watched as he rolled up his plaid sleeves, exposing tanned forearms that were entirely too bulky for someone in his mid-forties. He then dug into his bag, fishing out an Allen Wrench.

“You can go on your date,” Joel added, not looking at you. “I’ll be out of here in an hour. Two, tops. But… if you feel like gettin’ frisky, maybe do it at his place. Just in case.”

Right, your date.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you took out your phone. Six missed calls and a flurry of concerned texts.

Decidedly, you typed out an apologetic message mentioning a water-related emergency and stuffed your phone back in your purse.

“I’m staying with you.”

Joel froze and turned to look at you from over his shoulder. “No, you ain’t. I’ll take too long.”

“Well, I can’t leave you to fix my problems while I’m out eating overpriced ravioli.” You shrugged and, with a soft grunt, took a seat against the wall near him. “You’re not a plumber, you’re a… you’re my…”

Ex-husband.

You cleared your throat, then emphasised, “You’re not a plumber.”

Joel let out a slow exhale. “Do whatever you want, but I doubt watching me fix your sink is gon’ be as fun as your date.”

“I’ve got a full bottle of Pinot Noir in the fridge.” You tilted your head. “We can make it fun.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not—not in that way.” You rubbed a clammy hand down your face.

To your surprise, that earned you a small, gruff laugh from Joel, his eyes crinkling momentarily the way they only did when he was truly amused.

His voice was soft when he responded. 

“Go on and get the wine, then, sweetheart.”

Two crystal glasses and a little while later, Joel had put down his wrench and opted instead to sit beside you on your tiled bathroom floor, his shoulders brushing up against yours in the cramped space.

Efforts to tame the defiant sink had long since been forgotten. He did the best he could, but retired upon discovering that you had no spare sink handle lying around—how very unprepared of you.

The bad news was that you weren’t going to be able to wash your hands in the master bedroom ensuite tonight. The good news was that you were having a surprisingly good time with Joel. The conversation evolved from discussing your stood-up date (you showed Mark’s profile, Joel was convinced he was lying about his dogs being rescues), then to how his company was going, and then, reminiscing about the good ol’ days.

“All I’m sayin’,” Joel continued through a laugh. “Is that she did it on purpose.”

“My mom has always been bad with names!”

“Bad enough to still call me ‘George’ after a year of us datin’?” He scoffed.

You stifled a giggle. “In her defence, it’s a very similar—”

“Like hell it is. And your dad? He was worse.” Joel chuckled, finishing the last of his wine. “How is he?”

“Fine. Just called him yesterday, actually.”

“He still callin’ me–?”

“He still calls you ‘porn stache’, yes.”

Joel snorted into his hand, his shoulders bobbing up and down with laughter. Real, genuine laughter.

You smiled and turned to steal a glance at his profile.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, his hooked nose scrunched mid-chuckle, and his laugh was exactly as it was before—low and rough, but somehow boyish and unguarded.

You had almost forgotten how his whole face lit up when he laughed.

And, you didn’t mean to stare. But you did. 

God, you missed this.

“I think I prefer George.” Joel ran a hand down his face, still smiling.

You cleared your throat and leaned over to retrieve the almost-empty wine bottle, refilling your glasses.

“Sarah told me to say hi to you, if I got the chance, by the way.” You said, pouring the Pinot Noir into his glass. “She’s with my parents at the lake house.”

“The lake house?” Joel hummed, taking another sip of his drink. “Still disappointed I didn’t get that in the settlement.”

You snorted, amused. “You don’t even like lakes.”

“No, I don’t like the mosquitoes that come with the lakes.” Joel corrected you, pointedly. “But, I don’t know, I guess I just miss it. A lot of good memories there.”

You felt yourself smile. “Yeah. Yeah, there were.”

A beat.

“Hey, at least you kept the cars. And the boat. And the frequent flier miles. And, well, you see Sarah every other week.” You turned to look at Joel, but he was already looking at you.

A certain vulnerability swam in the brown of his eyes. Something you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Yeah, well… there were more important things I couldn’t keep.”

The air thinned. The wine, the laughter, the conversation—everything dissolved in the quiet admission, hanging thickly in the space between you.

And suddenly, there was only you and Joel and the mistakes that had wedged you apart yet somehow brought you back together again; on a random Friday evening on the floor of a bathroom you used to share.

“Joel…” You swallowed, your hand falling from your lap onto the tiles.

But you couldn’t form any semblance of a sentence. How could you? 

There was nothing to say. Yes, you missed him. ‘Missed’ was an understatement. 

Sometimes you’d roll over in the night, wishing to feel the weight of his arm resting on your waist, reassuring you that these past few months had only been a bad dream. Sometimes you came to pick Sarah up early, just to get a few more minutes with him. Sometimes—no, a lot of the time, memories of him came rushing back, cleaving your heart into two, further and further each time.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t let go of the man you spent so many years loving. 

Joel’s eyes still bore into yours. And nothing in the world could have torn you away.

He exhaled slowly, then set down his glass with care. His hand barely brushed yours, but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

“I think about it,” He said softly. “More than I should.”

“Think about what?”

A quiet, almost sad laugh escaped from his throat. He leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“How things used to be.”

“Oh,”

A moment passed, marked only by the metre of your incessant heartbeat pounding in your ears.

And then, “Do you ever miss us?” Joel asked.

You faced him once more. The answer was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Because that was too complicated. Because that would break you.

Joel didn’t need you to say it. He found the answer in your eyes.

All the time.

Instead, you asked, “Do you? Miss us, that is.”

“Of course, I do.” He said softly. “More than you can imagine.”

You held your breath.

Joel heaved a sigh.

“I think about calling,” He added, voice low. “Just to hear your voice.”

“I’d answer,” You said, barely above a whisper.

He smiled in a bittersweet, melancholic sort of way and leaned in just slightly. Unconsciously, you mirrored him.

And then his eyes flickered down to your lips. It was only for a second, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter.

This was dangerous. You should’ve told him to leave ages ago. Or, maybe you should’ve left yourself and gone on your date.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“Can I ask you something stupid?” You whispered.

Joel whispered back, “Always.”

“Do you…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Do I what?”

“Do you—does even a part of you… want what we had back?” 

You knew what he was going to say. You just wanted to hear it for yourself.

And you did.

“Yes,” He admitted earnestly.

You searched his face for any sign of deception, but found none. The only thing in his coffee-brown eyes was regret. And, maybe, something else, too. Something softer.

Your eyes widened. “We fought a lot.”

“We did.”

“And we probably said some shit.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling, as if all the answers were written there. Joel did, too.

His voice came softly, sadly, “We did.”

Silence again. Thick and fragile and charged with so many unspoken words.

Joel’s knee brushed yours, neither of you pulling away. It was nice to have him close, to feel his familiar warmth, to see him—really see him. Bare and raw and vulnerable. No facades of indifference. No hiding behind closed car doors. Just Joel, your Joel, there beside you; soft-eyed and quiet, like maybe he was seeing you, too.

Your fingers twitched on the floor beside his. You wanted to reach for him, but you wanted him to reach first. Absently, you fiddled with your left ring finger, suddenly aware of its bareness.

He looked at you then. Not a glance, but a full turn, slow and deliberate. His dark eyes searched your face, pausing on your mouth, your cheek, your lashes, then settled on your eyes again. He looked at you like you were something he’d spent months trying to forget, and only just now remembered why he couldn’t.

You held your breath.

Joel’s voice, when it finally came, was low, cracked around the edges.

“I know it was bad in the end, but I meant what I said.” He breathed. “I miss us. I miss you.”

Your heart twisted. And there went that cleaver again, slicing further.

“I miss seeing your keys on the kitchen counter and knowing you were home. I miss kissing you before work and smudgin’ your lipstick. I miss watching stupid movies with you that we’d fall asleep to halfway.”

His throat bobbed. He leaned back against the wall, like it hurt to say it out loud.

“Yeah, we fought and said some real mean shit. But God help me, I’d give anything to go back in time and fight for you like I should have. Because you were it for me. You were everything. Still are.”

His eyes glistened as he held your gaze, fierce and unflinching.

“Because, no matter how hard I try to ignore it,” He smiled to himself, shaking his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I love you.”

He loves you.

Those three simple words rang in an echo in your mind. He loves you, he loves you, Joel loves you.

“You love me?” You could barely hear your voice above the deafening thrum of your pulse.

Your faces were barely an inch apart, now. You could smell the familiar scent of his laundry detergent, and traces of his cologne, and wood, and tobacco, and something that was so uniquely him.

Joel nodded.

“I never stopped.” He whispered.

Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance, smashing your lips against his. Joel grunted in surprise, but quickly gave in, exhaling through his nose like he’d been holding a breath in for years. 

He returned the kiss with equal fervour, reaching out to cup your face and pouring all his pent-up emotions against the haven of your lips—longing, relief, desire.

You pushed yourself closer against him. Closer, impossibly closer, until you were straddling his lap, moving against the tent in his jeans, feeling his big hands instinctively settle on your hips, and tasting the Pinot Noir on his lips.

Shit. Was this even a good idea?

You pulled away suddenly. A tiny whine came from Joel, who tried to chase your mouth, but you were insistent.

“Wait,” You panted.

His eyes opened fully. His brows were knitted, his lips were kiss-swollen, and his chest was heaving slowly.

“What?” Joel asked quietly, his thumbs idly tracing circles on either side of your hips.

“This…” You breathed. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I don’t want it to mean nothing.”

Joel smiled softly at your words.

“Means a whole lot to me, sweetheart.” His hand went to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek in his wake. “We can talk about what this means, if you w—”

“Okay, good. Means a lot. Talk after.”

“After?” His eyebrows rose.

“After you fuck me.”

A breathy ‘Jesus Christ’ slipped from his throat, but Joel didn’t spend a second refusing your bold assumption.

With a hand on your nape, he leaned forward to capture your lips in another searing kiss, which you happily accepted, sighing against him.

His big hands then travelled to the back of your thighs, and the next thing you knew, he carelessly swept away whatever was decorating the base of your faucet, and carried you with ease to perch you atop the sink.

“Joel.” You mumbled urgently into his lips.

“Mmm?” He hummed back, not wanting to break your mouths apart for even a second. 

“Might break the sink again.”

“Don’t care. I’ll fuckin’ fix it again, then. Just… need you,” Joel groaned. “Look too fuckin’ good,”

And he pulled away. His half-lidded, cloudy gaze drank you in, sweeping down the snugness of your dress, and lingering on the generous amount of cleavage it revealed. His hands drifted higher and higher up your thighs, until they reached the hemline—dipping under just slightly.

“Too fuckin’ good,” He snarled.

You smirked. Knowing him, he was definitely going to ask if—

“How much was this dress?”

Sighing amusedly, “It wasn’t cheap.”

“How attached are you to it?” He mumbled, a hand reverently skirting up to your hip.

“A moderate amou—”

“Can I rip it off you?”

There it was.

In the many years you were married, Joel shredded more than enough articles of your precious wardrobe in similar heated moments. If you were to count the offences, you’d likely run out of fingers. Your wedding dress had been among the few survivors of his destructive tendencies, though not for lack of trying on his part.

You stifled a snort and shook your head, reaching up to caress his face. 

“No.” You smiled. “Because I’d like to wear it again.”

Joel held your hand against his face and huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “Next time.”

And then his hands found the zipper on your side, pulled it sharply down, and tugged the dress off you.

His eyes darkened.

You had chosen to don an intricate, black, lacey number underneath your dress that teased just enough and only hid the bare minimum. Of course, you had. You hadn’t had an opportunity to wear anything vaguely provocative in ages and were expecting some luck after your date.

You certainly didn’t expect that your ex-husband would be the one seeing it.

“This for him?” Joel’s lip twitched.

Heat rose in your cheeks. “Well, I—”

“Yeah, these don’t get a pass.”

With a sharp tearing noise slicing through the air, Joel ripped the flimsy lacey bra clean in half, watching intently, hungrily, as your tits spilled out.

“Joel!”

“I know, I know,” Joel grunted. “I’ll buy you a new set… buy you all the fuckin’ sets.”

You were about to object, intent on citing the price attached to that particular pair, but Joel had sunk back on his knees and spread your legs apart.

He pressed his lips on your inner thigh, scruff tickling your skin as he slowly, softly trailed his mouth upward, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

His face came to a stop in front of your core, noticing how heavily you were breathing, and his eyes flicked up to yours, smirking. Smug fucking bastard.

“Joel.” You gritted your teeth.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Don’t fucking tease me.” 

And he leaned his forehead against the lower part of your navel, taking a second to breathe in the unmistakable scent of your arousal seeping through your lingerie. 

He was practically salivating, now. 

“I’ll try not to, ma’am.” 

Without another word, he took the lace into his teeth, yanked his head sharply, and tore your panties open.

Confirming his suspicions, you were absolutely soaked. Slick drooled freely out of your puffy folds, taunting him and draining every ounce of self-restraint he had. 

Fuck, you were gorgeous.

“Tell me,” Joel said lowly, meeting your gaze once more as a thick finger swiped lightly through your lips, collecting your arousal. “This for him or me?”

“You.” You breathed without a second thought.

“Louder, sweetheart. My ears ain’t what they used to be.”

“You.”

Smirking wider, “Damn fucking right.”

Then, he happily hitched your legs over his shoulders, leaned forward, and dove in.

His tongue prodded into your heat, dragging down your walls and sending jolts of electricity down your spine. He worked fast and sloppily, sliding through your folds and flicking into your walls, urgently tasting you like he wouldn’t get another chance. 

Your arousal coated the lower half of his face, his eyes were almost black with desire, obscenely wet noises echoed in the silence of the tiled room as his tongue eagerly devoured you whole—

“Fuck, almost forgot how good you taste. So fuckin’ sweet.” Joel mumbled against your sex, entirely, wholly bewitched. “She missed me, too, huh? Just drippin’ for me…”

He continued to furiously lap at your entrance, scruff rubbing against your inner thighs. And then he moved up, planting messy kisses higher and higher until he reached your swollen clit.

You gasped brokenly, flinging a hand to grasp his curls as his lips alternated from pressing messy kisses along your seam to greedily sucking at your bundle of nerves, latching onto it almost desperately.

After a particularly delicious drag down the roof of your core, you rolled your hips up into his mouth and brought him closer to you with your grip in his hair.

“Shit—sorry.” You panted, breathing heavily.

He barely pulled away to look at you.

“Don’t fuckin’ be. I can handle it, you know I can.” Joel all but growled, before returning to attend to your needy fucking pussy.

He was like a man possessed; lapping frenziedly, groaning lowly into your sensitive skin, curved nose swiping through your folds as he worked.

Very soon, a familiar tingle in your lower stomach introduced itself.

“Joel,” You called urgently, attempting to warn him.

He knew you were close. Oh, he knew. So, he went faster and harder, pressing himself further against you, suffocation be fucking damned.

His low, wrecked voice came slurred and slightly muffled by your sex, “Y’gonna come? Go on, baby, all over my face—thaaat’s it.”

A shattered moan escaped from your throat, and you felt your release take over your body almost violently. You couldn’t help the way your legs clamped down around his head, but Joel loved it, letting you smother him and humming happily into your heat as he worked you through your climax, swallowing your release and eating like a man starved.

Finally, he pulled away with a wet squelch, softly pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and gently let your legs down.

And you were immediately greeted with the sight of his lower face shining with your slick.

A good look on him, if you’d say so yourself.

He smiled lazily, eyes blown-out and absolutely fucking pussydrunk. 

“That good for you, sweetheart?” He mused.

“You, Joel Miller, are what we call a munch.” You smiled back.

Pride bloomed across his face. “Gladly, sweets.” 

And you pulled him up by the collar of his flannel shirt into a filthy kiss, tasting your arousal on his lips.

He let his eyes fall shut and reached up to curl a hand around your jaw as he returned the kiss, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Not wasting any time, your hands flew to his belt, blindly fumbling at the leather material to slide it out of the loops of his jeans.

Joel chuckled, leaning forward to trail his lips down your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses.

“Need somethin’, baby?”

“Wanna return the favour,” You glanced down at the bulge in his lap.

“Mm-mm. That was more for me than you. Missed your sweet fuckin’ pussy.” Joel mumbled against your pulse point.

“Munch.” You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel sighed, lifting his head and undoing his jeans just barely enough to pull himself free from his boxers. 

You heard yourself swallow.

Joel Miller was a big man, and you were very aware of that fact. It was written all across his body; from his impossibly broad shoulders, to his beefy arms, to his thick fucking cock.

He stroked himself, once, twice, as his eyes fell to your pulsating, slick core. Beads of precum leaked from his flushed tip and down his length as he did so.

“Spread those legs wider for me, baby. Let me see you,” He breathed lowly.

And you very willingly obliged.

“There’s my girl,” Joel hummed.

With a hand around his base, he guided himself closer to your drooling cunt, nudging his swollen head against you.

Sighing, “Deep breath, baby.”

And he slowly forced himself in, one hand on the small of your back, the other on the underside of your thigh, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he steadily fed you his cock.

You gasped some variant of a plea.

Needless to say, he was a tight fucking fit.

“Takin’ me so well. That’s it, baby, let me in.” He blabbed mindlessly as he continued to sink deeper inside. 

Deeper, deeper, deeper…

He winced. “Shit—there you go.”

When all of him was nested inside your welcoming channel, he let out a gasped expletive at the sensation.

Full. You felt so full with him inside. You always did.

“Fuck, missed this.” Joel panted, resting his forehead against yours. 

You tried to echo the sentiment, but the only thing you were capable of doing was letting out an incoherent groan of his name.

Joel got the message, though.

Maintaining an unhurried tempo, he rolled his hips back and forth, slowly dragging his thickness against your walls, making you painfully aware of every last inch of him.

“How’s that feel, baby?” He mumbled, voice airy.

“Good. Feels so good.”

And, fuck, he did. 

He felt amazing.

His tempo soon picked up, leaving your mouth to fall open as you took every inch of him again and again, stretching you open with enough pleasure to dull the slight pain.

“Tell me,” Joel hummed as he continued to drive ceaselessly in and out of your tight channel, adopting a false lilt of indifference. “Who’s fuckin’ you so good, huh?”

An incoherent syllable slipped from your lips.

“Who, baby?” Joel urged you, unrelenting in his pace. “Sure as hell ain’t fuckin’ Mark.”

Dumbly, you shook your head.

“You, Joel.”

Your words were almost drowned out by the symphony of your own moans, which were accompanied by the obscenely wet slaps that sounded every time his hips fully met yours.

“Louder.” He snarled, punctuating his response with an intentionally rough ram. “Neighbours can’t hear you yet, c’mon.”

“You, Joel!”

Satisfied, his hands went to hold you by your waist, keeping you as still as possible as he drove insistently into you, his tip now kissing your cervix with every thrust.

You cried out at the feeling, nails raking down his back.

Heat pooled in your gut, your vision blurred, a high-pitched ringing almost deafened your ears.

“Joel, Joel, I’m…” You babbled.

“Close? Go on, gorgeous. Let me feel you choke my dick.”

With his blessing, his name left your mouth in a high-pitched scream, and you felt yourself clench around his throbbing length as your orgasm rippled across your body like an earthquake.

Joel, being the overachiever he was, didn’t stop for even a second until your breathing slowed and your eyes fluttered open again.

And, once he saw that you had recovered, he leaned forward to slant his mouth against yours, swallowing your sighs.

“You okay?” He mumbled into the kiss, barely breaking away.

“Yeah.” You exhaled. 

He smiled against your lips.

“Good. Almost there, baby. Gonna take you against the sink, now, and you’re gonna give me one more, how’s that sound?”

You nodded dreamily, feeling him slowly pull out.

He leaned back and, with his hands on your waist, delicately set you down.

“Turn ‘round for me, sweetheart.” 

You acquiesced without hesitation, bracing yourself on the porcelain countertop.

Joel hummed, kicked your legs open even wider, and, not long after, sank the entirety of his cock into you in one deep thrust.

A sharp breath hit the air behind you, and an airy ‘fuck’ followed it. This angle made him feel bigger, if that was even possible.

He didn’t wait long after that. He couldn’t. Overcome with the need to feel you, he started moving. The first thrust was slow. Experimental. The second was hard. The third was harder.

Before you knew it, his big hands found a home on your hips, and he began to drive roughly into you, as if making up for lost time.

He certainly proved he was willing to atone for his absence, thrust after thrust.

“Oh, look at you.” Joel tutted and pulled your hair to tilt your head upwards.

You came face to face with the woman in the bathroom mirror.

Somewhere in between thrusts, your mouth had fallen agape, letting loose a long whine of pleasure, which was stuttered by every slam of his hips against yours.

Your hair was frizzy, your face was flushed, your hooded gaze was flooded with desire, and a light sheen of sweat doused every inch of your skin.

You were a wreck, thanks to the man fucking you so well behind you.

“Eyes up here.” Joel sighed. “Keep ‘em open. Gotta watch how well you take me.”

Joel was even more of a sight. 

The top few buttons of his flannel were undone, his sleeves were haphazardly rolled up, his hair was wild, and the look on his weathered face was nothing short of territorial as he held you to him and fucked you with reckless abandon.

Your eyes fell to where your bodies were connected, hypnotised by how easily his tanned cock disappeared in and out of your puffy cunt.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The corners of his lips were coyly upturned when he cooed, “Don’t we look good, baby?”

You could only respond in broken syllables.

“Yeah,” He grunted. Then, after a particularly forceful thrust, “we do.”

He continued to ram into you, finding your cervix with each thrust, keeping his eyes trained on the mirror, fixated on how your tits bounced so prettily for him.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, jaw tight.

If your brain hadn’t been turned to mush after the two orgasms he forced out of you, you would’ve heard him. But all you were focused on was the rush of another climax approaching.

You gripped the countertop harder and gritted your teeth, feeling warmth collecting in your stomach and bracing yourself for impact.

As if reading your mind, Joel’s hand moved from your hip to your front, trailing down until he brushed your clit, rubbing sloppy semi-cricles and whispering sweet things as you whimpered.

“You gonna give me one more?” He murmured encouragingly, his nose nudging the side of your face.

You could only manage an open-mouthed nod.

His fingers sped in their motions, swiping at your clit feverishly as he continued to rut into you, grazing your cervix each time.

Again. And again. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.” He whispered gently.

Your jaw slackened, your heartbeat quickened, and, in a blinding flash of pleasure, you came with his name on your tongue, helpless to the throes of your climax.

“There you go. Shit… so good for me.” Joel groaned. And then, urgently, “Where—where do you want me to–?”

Not even a full second later, “Inside.” 

“You sure?” He panted, starstruck. 

“I have an IUD, just—please.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he pressed closer, his chest flush against your back, letting you feel every shaky pull of his breath as he caged you in. His hands found yours at the edge of the sink, lacing over them gently. His head dropped beside yours, his forehead nearly touching your temple, and a warm breath fanned across your skin as he sighed. 

And then he resumed his earlier pace.

He rammed into you hard and fast, chasing his own release as if it were a life-or-death situation. And all you could do was take it.

After a dozen more jerky thrusts, his breath caught in his throat and, with a low curse, he came. Hot ropes of his spend spilled inside you, and he rode it out until he couldn’t give you any more, which took a few more lazy rolls of his hips.

His breath evened not long after, warm and steady against your browbone. Soothing, almost.

Gently, he pulled out of you, and you felt his come slowly drip down your thighs.

“Fuck,” He breathed, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, scruff rubbing against your crown as he did so.

And he bowed his head to rest it on the crook of your neck.

“That was great, George.” You panted.

Joel snorted tiredly. “Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

“Nope.”

He huffed out a chuckle.

Then, he languidly pressed a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips could reach—the underside of your jaw, your throat, your neck, and down, still.

A warm, fuzzy sort of feeling radiated from his touch, lulling you into a state of bliss. It felt like love; it felt like coming home.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face.

Joel mumbled something unintelligible against your shoulder.

“What?” You replied, breaking free from your trance.

“I said,” He pulled away and, with two fingers on your chin, tenderly turned your face to look at him. His voice was wrecked and so very earnest when he finally repeated himself. “Don’t send the papers. Please.”

He held the rest of his plea in his eyes in the way they shone with a certain sincerity.

You smiled softly and shook your head. Because you knew you never really had any intention to. Because you wanted to hold on to him. And you were glad he wanted to hold on to you, too.

Your lips found his. Gentle, delicate, a reassurance. He gave in to the kiss almost immediately, sighing into your mouth.

“I won’t.”

And you meant it.

thanks for reading!!! reqs are open, if you wanna send an idea or anything over :)

🏷️: @whaddupbaby, @pedritodowney08, @martuxduckling, @aadhinagony, @lanabobana, @pedr0swh0r3, @romancherry, @strawberriesandhotmen, @streamermattsgf, @bonneyzsk, @worhols, @serendippindots, @paprikainfurs, @lanternnightgarden, @12vamppp, @savvyisss, @umadirectioner, @tinawantstobeadoll, @not-the-teen-witch, @wundagre, @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere, @guelyury, @joelspickle, @callofdiva, @hotnmad, @brightestxxwitch, @pearl-diver-m, @kungfucapslock, @hellokittyyloverrrr, @meganfoxismywife, @natalieispunk, @billionairecowgirl, @my-tearsricochet

[jedijesi]

IM TWEAKING THIS WAS SO GOOD

Carried Away. M. Murdock.

Matt gets a little excited when his partner rides his face

Warnings: NSFW. Face sitting, face riding, cunnilingus, swearing, cum, cum eating, Matt enjoys eating out his partner way too much. (if there’s such a thing.

This one’s for my babes @waywardxrhea @parker-murdock @zomtart @sleepysleepymom @justvalkyrie and @dorothleah you guys gas me up too much 😭

“Holy shit-“ You gasped softly when one of Matt’s arms pushed up from your stomach to grip your breast, tweaking the nipple harshly so that it went electricity down your belly directly to your clit. Matt moaned against your pussy when you gripped the headboard with one hand, rocking gently into his face so the bridge of his nose ground against you perfectly.

Matt was nowhere near complaining, making sinful noises into your skin as he gripped your ass cheek with his other hand, holding you taut to his face as he ate you furiously from below. His jaw left slight beard burn from his stubble on the inside of your thighs as he moved his mouth, but neither of you particularly cared. You especially didn’t when he sucked your clit into his mouth and grazed it with his teeth, letting it go with a a soft smacking sound as he widened his mouth to trail his tongue from your pretty hole up to the soft bundle of nerves and pleasure.

“Fuck, Matt.” You whimpered, legs shaking slightly as your eyes closed, leaning back from the headboard to change the angle, moaning as the sensations overwhelmed you. His tongue was fucking everywhere. Touching every inch of you that had been laid over his face, licking and sucking with an almost desperate enthusiasm.

The only response he gave was a throat groan, which brought a gentle squeak from your throat at the delicious vibration. A squeak that turned into a soft cry when his teeth once again nipped gently at the skin above your clit.

“God, Matt, please, i’m so close.” You whined, arching your back into the pleasure as he continued his current rhythm, pulling wave after wave of pleasure from your hot, flushed body. Without thinking, you reached behind you with one hand, fingers outstretched. You’d barely touched the underside of his cock before his hips bucked and you felt his abdomen tense in the way his torso moved.

“Shit-“ Was all you heard before a loud, stuttering groan left his chest, the vibrations pulling you over the edge as hot, wet droplets spurted into your hand and forearm. You moaned at the realization, gently rubbing up and down his twitching shaft as he continued to cum into your hand, hips twitching and squirming even as he still continued to eat you. Pulling you through the waves of your orgasm like you pulled him through his.

It felt like hours before he finally tapped the back of your thigh and you rolled off of him, letting his overstimulated cock flop onto his belly. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, licking the pearly cum from your palm and wrist with a soft laugh.

“If I knew you could come from just me sitting on your face we would have tried that ages ago.” Matt flushed at the comment and smacked your leg, chuckling half-heartedly.

“Don’t tease.”

“Why not?” You sighed, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. “That was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.”

[jedijesi]

kirsteng!!!! i love youuuuuuu! 😭💋

JediJesi’s Masterlist!

My inbox is open for requests for Javier, Din, Joel Miller (almost any pedro character) Miguel, Arthur Morgan. or if you just wanna chat🤍 Feel free to let me know if you want to be added to a specific Taglist! 💕my kofi

Love, Jesi🤍

Keep reading

[jedijesi]

Rivals

Declan is too hot !……… 😂😂🔥🔥🔥

Thanks to the owner for the screenshots

[jedijesi]

the fact that it’s a desert out here is criminal. i’ll take one for the team, if anyone puts a request in my inbox, i’ll write it

why isnt there anyyyy rivals fics??? yall need to start writing pleaseee 🥲

[jedijesi]

Awwww!!! Ty so much!!! I'm so in love with you Kris!

Send me your fav Javier Peña Character Study fic please and thank you 🙏🏼

[jedijesi]

Mari’s Style

(i’m updating my Biblichor Inspo section!)

[jedijesi]

SHUT UP!🫨 omg! this is like the best compliment ever!!! may i kiss u?!

Biblichor

(n.) the comforting smell of old books

Javier Peña x F!Librarian!Reader

Series Summery: With a lull in the drug war, Javier Peña and Steve Murphy are forced to go to the dreaded Library to find evidence, but Javier unexpectedly falls head over heels for a special librarian.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30

Spin-Offs:

How I Met My Mari | Ice Cream Kisses | Baby Fever

Biblichor Inspo

Also Read on Wattpad

Revised Version on AO3

[jedijesi]

omggggg! Ilysm!!!! this made my day imma cry!!!!🥹🥰😘

Biblichor

(n.) the comforting smell of old books

Javier Peña x F!Librarian!Reader

Series Summery: With a lull in the drug war, Javier Peña and Steve Murphy are forced to go to the dreaded Library to find evidence, but Javier unexpectedly falls head over heels for a special librarian.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30

Spin-Offs:

How I Met My Mari | Ice Cream Kisses | Baby Fever

Biblichor Inspo

Also Read on Wattpad

Revised Version on AO3

[jedijesi]

LMAOOO😭 “GPS signal” i’m deadddd ilysm honey😘😘😘

🥲*sniffles* i’ve officially caught up on all your writing. this is a bitter sweet experience. i cried, i screamed, i creamed. it was beautiful but damn i need more😤😔 thank you for being the reason i stay up way too late on a weeknight 💞😘 may your pillow be cold 💋

EEEEEH!!! You!! Jesi!!! Thank you SO MUCH for the amount of love you've been giving to my blog lately! You don't know how much it means to me when I get notifications of you reading every single one of my fics, lmao! It was as if I could trace you with a GPS signal on my blog and it was honestly so fun and made me so happy.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm very glad my work has entertained and interested you that much.

Have the sweetest of days!!

-Pine 🌱

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cat's Web Chapter 18

Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy! Reader

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst/Dramaaa, Smut (oral, piv, public, on the side of a building)

Word Count: 4,800+

Summary: With Felicia's anxiety regarding the recent attacks, Miguel takes her out to destress, but ends up going way worse then he hoped.

co-author: @stclairesplace

A/N: Been a while... whoops... anyhow, its almost the one year anniversary of CCW

“What are you doing?” Miguel sighs, finding Felicia pacing around the living room in the early hours of the morning. 

“Thinking.” She sternly replies, her brows knit together as she mumbles to herself. 

He sighs and enters the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He already knows there's no chance of them going back to sleep. After fixing his cup, he settles down in the arm chair, watching Felicia, his head moving as if he were watching a tennis match.

“Alright, what’s going on.” Miguel’s free hand reaches out to grab her arm, pulling her to sit on his lap. 

Felicia huffs in frustration, “I’m trying to figure out who’s stealing the tech. At first I thought we had been infiltrated by someone who didn’t have powers, but we would have sensed that. So, it has to be a Spider-Person. Unless… It's Margo Kess. We can’t sense anything about her, she's a projection. It would make sense, but what's her motive-” 

Miguel pulls her closer, “You're spiraling.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Felicia looks at him with eyes full of sorrow. “In New York, I could easily pin which villain committed a crime or did the heist, but this… There are thousands- maybe millions of us. It’s going to get more dangerous, I can’t just sleep comfortably at night knowing they’ll make their next move at any moment.” 

“I know,” he sighs. “I’ll tell you what,” Miguel rubs his hand up and down her arm. “Let’s have a lazy morning. Then you get changed into something special, there’s an event in New York tonight you’ll like.”

Felicia narrows her eyes at him. “What event?”

“You’ll see.” He smirks.

—————————————

Their destination remained a mystery, right up until Miguel swung them to a smooth stop across from the grand entrance of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The towering stone columns and sprawling steps gleamed under the city lights. Felicia raised an intrigued eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile as she noticed the banners promoting a small charity event inside.

Miguel offered his arm, and together they strolled through the museum’s grand halls, the rhythmic click of Felicia’s heels echoing on the polished marble floors. He wore a sleek black suit, perfectly tailored to his muscular frame, and she, draped in her favorite black dress, looked effortlessly stunning. Heads turned as they passed, but neither of them noticed, lost in their own world.

As they moved through the exhibits, Felicia’s eyes gleamed, a spark of joy lighting her face. Her love for art came alive in these moments. She pointed out paintings, sculptures, and tapestries, sharing little-known stories and fascinating bits of history with a passion that left him captivated. He listened, but more than the art itself, he was mesmerized by her—by the way her face lit up with every piece she described, her voice soft but animated, as though the weight of the world had slipped off her shoulders.

For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t burdened by their complicated lives or the ever-present threat of another attack. Here, among priceless works of art, she was free. And Miguel? He didn’t care about the paintings—at least not in the way she did. His focus remained on her, soaking in the way she looked tonight. He silently vowed that he’d do whatever it took to keep her in this state of happiness.

They paused in front of a particularly striking painting of a woman—rich, dark hues layered with golden accents, the brushstrokes alive with movement. Miguel squinted at it, something about it felt oddly familiar, pulling at the corners of his memory.

“Why does this one look so famili-” He broke off mid-sentence, his eyes catching the word “Reproduction” on the small brass plaque below the frame. He blinked, and the pieces snapped together in his mind. He turned to Felicia, whose lips were now caught between her teeth, a guilty look in her eyes as she avoided his gaze.

“Gatita,” Miguel began, a teasing edge in his voice, “you have this exact painting in your apartment.” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Wanna share how that happened?”

Felicia groaned, “Alright, fine!” She let out a frustrated whisper, unable to stop a small smile creeping up. “I stole it, okay? A few years back.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “You happy now?”

Miguel chuckled, shaking his head, though amusement danced in his eyes. “So, let me get this straight,” he mused, leaning closer to whisper in her ear. “They had to get a copy because you’ve got the real deal hanging in your apartment?”

Felicia shot him a sideways look, clearly trying to deflect. “Perhaps,” she said with a shrug, already turning on her heel to walk away, hoping to slip out of the conversation. “You better not be mad, ‘cause that was forever ago, and I haven’t stolen anything in—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Miguel’s hand shot out, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward him. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his strong arms around her from behind, holding her close. “Hey, hey, hey… relajate, gatita,” he whispered softly into her ear, his voice like velvet. “I’m not mad at you.”

Felicia let out a long, slow breath as she melted into his chest, the tension unraveling from her body. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she tilted her head slightly back to look at him. “Good,” she murmured, a playful spark returning to her eyes, “because I’m not giving it back.” 

—----------------

Felicia’s gaze lingered on a statue, her eyes tracing the intricate marble curves and exquisite craftsmanship. The statue’s delicate form seemed almost alive under the soft museum lighting, and for a moment, Felicia let herself get lost in its beauty.

“Ugh,” she sighed softly, crossing her arms. “I’ve always wanted this one. I planned a heist and everything.” She rolled her eyes. “Got my stupid powers right before I planned it and, suddenly, I felt too guilty to do it.”

Miguel turned to her, his brow raised with a playful gleam in his eye. His gaze briefly dropped to the delicate string of pearls around her neck, fingers brushing the smooth, lustrous surface as he teased, “Yeah? And these pearls? They seem new. You sure you’re the saint you claim to be?”

Felicia shot him a mischievous look as she turned, leading them into the next gallery. “What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Her smirk widened, but before she could finish the thought, she accidentally bumped into someone walking by.

“Oops! Sorry ‘bout tha—" Her voice faltered as she looked up, her words turning cold as recognition hit her like a punch to the gut. Staring back at her with those all-too-familiar, vibrant emerald eyes was none other than MJ Watson.

"Oh!" MJ’s eyes lit up, though her smile was laced with a smugness that made Felicia’s jaw clench. “Felicia.”

“MJ.” Felicia’s tone turned sharp, the warmth draining from her expression. Her previously apologetic demeanor vanished as quickly as it had come.

Miguel stiffened beside her, instantly recognizing the shift in Felicia’s posture. His eyes flicked between the two women, his body unconsciously moving closer to Felicia in a protective stance, though he remained outwardly calm.

MJ’s grin widened, clearly relishing in the awkwardness. “You’re looking better since I last saw you,” she commented, her faux-cheerful tone doing little to mask the passive-aggression beneath her words.

Felicia didn’t miss a beat. “Wish I could say the same for you,” she shot back, her voice dripping with venom as she gave a mock frown, eyes scanning MJ up and down.

MJ’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. But before she could respond, she threw out another blow. “Petey’s around here somewhere,” MJ said in a sing-song voice, waving her hand nonchalantly. “I’ll call him over. It’ll be like a cute little reunion, won’t it?”

Felicia’s jaw clenched, a flash of panic behind her cold exterior. “That’s not necessary,” she replied firmly, her voice sharp, almost pleading.

Before the tension could thicken any further, Miguel, sensing Felicia’s discomfort, spoke up, his deep voice calm but decisive. “We actually have to go,” he said, scanning the crowded gallery for a quick exit. He wasn’t keen on this situation escalating.

But MJ wasn’t listening. “Nonsense!” she chirped, waving into the crowd. “Petey! Come over here!” Her voice carried through the gallery, and Miguel’s hand instinctively tightened around Felicia’s, offering silent reassurance as she tensed beside him.

Seconds later, the crowd parted, and Peter Parker emerged. His easy smile fell the moment his eyes landed on the scene in front of him. He looked first at MJ’s smiling face, then at Felicia, whose eyes had turned into steel, and finally at Miguel. Peter’s shock was almost comical as his gaze lingered on Miguel, struggling to process what he was seeing.

Peter’s mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Miguel O’Hara—his boss—was here, standing next to Felicia in a suit instead of his classic blue and red molecule suit. His hair, normally disheveled from his Spider-Man mask, was styled casually, letting his dark curls frame his face. But what truly stood out was his towering height—6 feet, 9 inches of pure, intimidating presence. He’s known no one that had this tall and demanding presence—except Miguel.

“There you are, Petey!” MJ’s voice cut through the tension, her usual bright cheer masking the awkwardness as she skipped over, grabbing Peter’s hand with casual ease.

Felicia’s irritation was evident in the sharpness of her tone as she tried to brush past him. “Yeah, hi, we gotta go,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing, ready to flee this uncomfortable situation.

But before she could move, Peter’s hand shot out, gripping her arm just enough to stop her in her tracks. Felicia froze, her eyes flashing in surprise, and for a split second, Miguel’s blood ran cold. His eyes darkened, turning a glowing shade of red, and his fangs—normally hidden—began to push through, his primal instincts threatening to take over. The sheer audacity of Peter touching her had every protective instinct in Miguel firing on all cylinders.

Peter quickly released his hold, his eyes darting nervously to Miguel’s now predatory gaze. The flash of fear was unmistakable, but instead of backing down, Peter’s signature mischief kicked in. His lips curled into a sly grin, a glint of faux innocence shining in his eyes as the situation suddenly clicked in his mind. “No way!” Peter exclaimed, his tone feigning surprise. “This must be the ‘new lover’ Aunt May was talking about.”

Felicia’s expression hardened, her patience already thin. She glared at Peter, silently daring him to keep pushing. Before either she or Miguel could respond, MJ, always one to steer the conversation, cut them off with a chipper, “Wait, Petey, does Felicia know?”

Now it was Peter’s turn to falter, his cool façade cracking as MJ’s words caught him off guard. “Oh, um, well—”

“We’re married!” MJ declared excitedly, holding up her left hand triumphantly, the gold band glinting under the museum’s soft lights. She clasped Peter’s hand, flashing both rings with a satisfied smile, clearly enjoying her moment.

Felicia’s stomach twisted, an uncomfortable knot forming as she processed the news. 8 months ago, she and Peter were together and happy, but now… married? The word echoed bitterly in her mind. “Wow,” she muttered, her voice flat and devoid of the typical sarcasm. It was more a word spoken out of shock than any true reaction.

Miguel, sensing the emotional storm brewing inside Felicia, tried to defuse the situation. “Congrats, but we really should go,” he interjected, his tone clipped and direct as he reached for Felicia’s hand, eager to whisk her away from the past that clearly still haunted her. But Felicia didn’t move.

Her eyes locked onto Peter’s, searching for answers. “When did you two tie the knot?” she demanded, her voice steely but calm, though the hurt beneath it was evident to anyone paying attention.

Peter shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, his usual confidence faltering. “Uh…”

“Three months ago!” MJ chimed in, far too gleeful for the situation. She turned to Peter, practically glowing as she looked up at him with adoration. “Can you believe it? We hadn’t dated since high school, but somehow, fate brought us back together. We reunited, and… well, our love was just so powerful, he couldn’t wait to marry me.” She beamed, squeezing Peter’s hand as if sealing the statement with a gesture of affection.

Felicia’s jaw tightened, her teeth grinding in silent fury as she watched Peter squirm, clearly uncomfortable with MJ’s overly enthusiastic retelling of their whirlwind romance. Her mind raced. Less than a year after their breakup, he was already married. Married. It felt surreal. She swallowed down the bitter taste of betrayal, eyes still boring into Peter.

“Must be a canon event,” Felicia muttered under her breath, the words slipping out before she could stop them. The sarcasm was thick, masking her pain with biting wit.

MJ blinked, clearly not understanding the reference. “Huh?”

“Nothing, just seems like a real-life love story,” Felicia replies, her voice thick with irony as she eyes Peter and MJ, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk. “Look at you, keeping secrets from Aunt May.”

Peter huffs, crossing his arms. “She’d never approve.”

Felicia scoffs, the derisive sound escaping her lips before she can stop it. “I wonder why.”

Before the tension could build further, MJ, seemingly oblivious or uncaring to Felicia’s rising irritation, giggles with a saccharine enthusiasm that makes Felicia’s skin crawl. “Well… we’ll tell her after we give her grandbabies.”

Felicia’s eyes widened, her stomach churning at MJ’s words. “Grandbabies! Wow!” She feigns an over-the-top gasp, her hand dramatically flying to her chest as her voice drips with mock excitement. “I thought you didn’t want kids, Peter. Always said it was too dangerous.”

MJ’s eyes narrowed slightly, her voice taking on a condescending tone as she interjected with a bright smile. “Well, Felicia, some people grow up and realize what truly matters in life. Maybe one day, you’ll figure that out too.”

Felicia’s jaw clenches, her hand balling into a fist as her patience finally begins to unravel. 

“Or perhaps its the matter of the right person.” MJ smirks. 

Felicia was mere seconds away from launching a biting retort, her heart hammering in her chest. But before the words can escape her lips, Miguel’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

“Alright,” Miguel says smoothly, his tone firm and authoritative as he steps in, placing a protective hand on Felicia’s lower back. “We best be going. See you at work, Peter.” His crimson eyes briefly flicker toward Peter, narrowing just enough to send a shiver of unease down Peter’s spine. Miguel’s gaze was cold, calculated, carrying the silent message: Don’t push her any further.

Peter nods quickly, clearly eager to avoid further confrontation. “Yeah, uh, we should go too, MJ.”

The two women exchange one last icy glare, the silent battle of wills raging between them, before Miguel gently but firmly takes Felicia by the hand and begins to lead her away from the couple. His grip is steady, offering silent reassurance as they navigate through the crowd together.

As they slip through the backdoor, the cool night air hits Miguel’s face, cutting through the tension that had clung to him like a second skin. He feels it eases, only slightly. But Felicia… Felicia is still a storm of fury, her body radiating barely contained anger. He tosses off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, knowing they’re too restricting. Then he takes her by the waist as his web shooters materialize on his wrists. The webs shoot out of his wrists like a red bolt of lighting. He swings them through the city before stopping, finding themselves atop the black and gold American Radiator Building, the cityscape sprawling before them. 

“Fuck!” Felicia lets out a raw, frustrated groan, pacing to the edge of the rooftop, her heels clicking against the concrete with each furious step. “That son of a bitch!” Her voice quakes with emotion. “He’s found the perfect woman to spend the rest of his shitty life with. Those two fuckers deserve each other!”

Miguel watches in silence, his chest tight. He’s used to Felicia’s fire, her venom, but there’s something deeper in her words tonight—a wound that runs too deep for simple anger. She moves to the ledge, her power surging as she sticks to the side of the building. With a cat-like grace, she dangles from the edge, looking down at the blur of people below, tiny ants scurrying through their insignificant lives.

He walks to the edge to look down at her. “Whatcha doing?” 

“I’ve never been up here before. Thought I’d check out the view.” She shrugs, her voice distant. 

He walks to the ledge, gazing down at her, his heart beating faster. He can’t stick to walls the way she can, so his web-shooters hum to life again. A thin, electric-red web shoots out, wrapping securely around a nearby spire as he lowers himself next to her.

From this angle, the city glows like a distant galaxy, its golden lights shimmering against the dark canvas of the night. “It’s beautiful from here,” Miguel says quietly, his voice layered with meaning. He looks at her, hoping for some kind of response, but she remains silent, her eyes focused far beyond the civilians below. 

Minutes pass like hours, the silence thick and heavy. And then, finally, she speaks, her voice breaking through the quiet like a confession.

“I wish Peter and MJ didn’t get under my skin the way they do,” she whispers, her voice raw with vulnerability. “They know exactly how to hurt me.” A tear slips down her cheek, catching the faint light, shimmering like a raindrop before falling into the darkness below. “You’re the one goddamn thing I genuinely care about, and Peter’s gonna strip it away from me.”

Her words hang in the air, sharp and jagged. Another tear falls, and this time, she swipes at it furiously. “God, this is so fucking stupid,” she growls, frustration thick in her voice. “The last thing I ever wanted was for him to have control over my life again.”

Miguel exhales, his heart aching for her. He moves closer, his hand gently tilting her chin so she’s forced to meet his gaze. Her eyes, usually fierce and defiant, are softer now, haunted by a pain she rarely lets show.

“Felicia,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against her jawline, “you forget who you’re dating.” His lips twitch into a small, reassuring smile. “I’m the leader of the Spider Society, remember? Peter Parker’s nothing to me. An ant.” His voice deepens, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “I created the Spider Society. I built the technology that lets me travel across dimensions—just to be with you. Your pathetic ex isn’t going to change that. Not now, not ever.”

“An ant?” she scoffs, though there’s less bite in her voice now. “You don’t get it, Miguel. ” She runs a hand over her hair, pushing it back as if she’s trying to push away the memories. “He’s not just my ex. He’s this… constant reminder of everything I thought I wanted. And everything I couldn’t have.”

She turns, staring out at the city again. “Peter and MJ—they’re like this stupid fairytale I kept chasing. The hero and his perfect girl. And me? I was just the villain. The cat burglar turned hero… the other girl.”

Her voice cracks slightly, betraying her. She clenches her fists, digging her nails into her palms. “But now, you come along and tell me none of that matters. That I matter. And part of me wants to believe you, but…” She pauses, biting her lip hard enough to taste blood. “But what if he’s right? What if I’m always gonna be second place to someone like her? I mean, out of all the universes, I’m the only Felicia who’s ever become a ‘hero’... You know how many looks I get from the other Spider-people? Even in all the other universes, I’m considered a villain.”

Felicia spins back to face him, her eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and fear. “I don’t need to be saved, Miguel. I never did. I just—I don’t know how to stop feeling like he’s already won, like I can control my future and not be stuck in this cycle of shit.”

She swallows hard, her expression softening as she looks at him. “But you… You make me want to try. And that scares the hell out of me.” She scoffs at the absurdity. 

There’s a long silence as her words hang between them. The tears she fought so hard to hold back slip through the cracks again, but this time she doesn’t wipe them away. Instead, she steps closer to him, resting her forehead against his chest. “You’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart right now,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Slowly, Miguel raises his hand to her cheek, gently brushing away a stray tear with the back of his fingers. His touch is warm, unhurried, as if he’s grounding her, pulling her away from the swirling storm in her mind. 

“You’re not second to anyone, Felicia,” he says, his voice low and steady, each word carrying weight. “You never were.” He cups her face, tilting her head slightly so that her eyes meet his again. The way he looks at her is intense—like she’s the only thing that matters in this moment, and nothing else exists outside of it.

“I didn’t cross universes to be with you because I pity you. I did it because I- I… need you.” His thumb strokes her cheek, slow and deliberate. “You don’t have to chase after anyone’s idea of happiness. You’re not some villain in someone else’s story. You’re everything I want—right here, right now.”

The vulnerability in her eyes flickers, but there’s something else now too. The doubt that had gripped her begins to unravel, replaced by a fragile but growing sense of belief. She searches his face, trying to find any cracks in his words, but all she sees is sincerity.

Miguel leans in, his lips brushing lightly against her forehead—a soft, lingering kiss, as if he’s sealing his words into her skin. Then, his hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, their bodies flush against each other. His breath is warm against skin.

There’s a pause as he pulls back just enough to look into her eyes again. The tension between them shifts—no longer heavy with pain but charged with something else, something deeper.

Unable to hold back the flood of feelings and pent up tension, Felicia leaps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, bringing him into a kiss. Caught off guard by the sudden kiss, Miguel’s initial surprise gives way to a rush of desire. He responds eagerly, his arm encircling her waist as he pulls her close.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become heated. Miguel hastily pushes her against the building, finding footing in the golden ledge of the architecture. He groans into the kiss. She moans as his lips move to her jaw and then her neck. “You’re mine.” 

Felicia hitches her leg around Miguel’s waist in an attempt to grind onto his cock that strains against his slacks. His hand moves to cup her ass, lifting her in his arms to grind into her clothed core. 

“Fuck.” He groans. “I want you.”

“Please, Mig.” Felicia gasps, feeling him grind perfectly into her clit. 

“I wanna taste your pussy.” He tugs her dress up.

Felicia’s eyes widened in surprise. “H-Here?” 

“I can’t wait. I need it.” His eyes began to glow red with lust taking over. 

Her heart began to race in anticipation. “O-Okay.”

Miguel extended the web, leaning back so he was parallel with the ground. “Sit on my face.” 

“That's gonna be uncomfortable for you-” Suddenly, Miguel’s free hand grabs her waist, pulling her up and onto his chest. 

His claws extend and rip her panties under her dress. Felicia gasps in surprise but it quickly turns into a moan as he leans his head up, attaching his lips to her clit. 

“O-Oh, fuuuck.”

Miguel groaned, lapping her dripping pussy up. He loved worshiping her body. He loved the way she melted with just a flick of his tongue. “Such a good girl.” He mumbles into her pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice simulating her more. 

Felicia’s eyes roll back, with all the pent up stress she's been having for the past several days, she needed to cum. 

Miguel smirked at the way her legs quivered around his face and how her fingers tugged at his hair. As her moans grew louder, his mouth moved faster. She was getting close and he wasn’t going to stop until she was screaming for him. 

His tongue trades off between flicking her swollen clit and delving into her throbbing cunt. Her taste and whimpers only made Miguel’s cock harder, straining against his slacks. If he wasn’t using his other hand to hold the web, keeping them from falling, he would have relieved the aching of his cock by now. 

As her breaths grow quicker and sounds become louder, Miguel can tell she’s on the edge. “That’s it, cum for me.” His tongue becomes ruthless, desperate to make her cum. His free hand grips her hips, tugging her as close as possible. 

With a cry, Felicia cums. Miguel was in heaven, lapping every drop up, enjoying the quaking of her body on his face. 

“Fuck, Mig.” She sighed, regaining her breath. 

“I’m not even close to being done with you.” He growls. 

Miguel moves them to stand, against the ledge again with Felicia legs wrapped around his waist. He hastily undoes his pants with her help, freeing his aching cock from its confines. 

“Fuck, I need you.” He groans, pumping his cock that leaks with precum. 

He lines his cock up with her entrance and with a fast thrust, he bottoms out in her. They moan together, taking a moment to adjust. Although, it doesn’t take long before Miguel begins moving. Felicia’s moans mix with the sounds of traffic and sirens in the streets below. It was entirely irresponsible to be fucking on the side of the building. There could be crime happening that needs their attention, but the two were too wrapped up in each other to think about the world beyond them. 

“God, you’re so tight.” Miguel pants as he picks up speed. His claws dig into the black concrete behind her. 

Felicia whimpers, her fingers thread into Miguel’s hair, tugging on it. The sensation makes him growl and bite the sensitive part of her neck. 

“You drive me wild.” He grunts between thrusts. “All mine.” 

“Oh, Mig” She moans. 

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so good for me.” He grabs her thigh and hitches it higher, getting an even deeper angle. 

Felicia gasps and her body quivers with the surge of pleasure. “R-right there!”

“Yeah?” He pants with a cocky smirk. “Right here?” He moves relentlessly, causing the concrete behind her to crack. “I bet Peter never made you feel this good, huh?” He nips at her neck, watching as her eyes roll back. 

She let out a series of moans in response. Miguel loved it when she was in so much pleasure, she couldn’t speak let alone think. It made him feral. 

“That’s my good girl. I feel you getting so- ungh- so fucking tight for me. You’re so close aren’t you?” 

Felicia whimpers and nods her head, causing Miguel to smirk again. 

“I want you to cum hard for me, got it?” He groans as she throbs around him, teething on the edge. “I’m gonna cum so deep inside you if you keep that up.” 

Miguel grabs Felicia by the neck, forcing her to look up at him through her heavy lidded eyes. “I need you to cum for me right now.” He growls. 

The feeling of him pistoning in and out of her, paired with the tight grip on her neck was all she needed to cum. She came, throbbing around him, moaning his name like a prayer. It was too much for Miguel, he fucked her through her orgasm, filling her with his cum. 

The two pant as they calm down from their high. Miguel slowly releases Felicia’s throat, his hand sliding up to her cheek, tilting her face up to look at him. “Fucking perfect.” He says between pants, his voice deep and raw from the moaning. 

Felicia smiles weakly before leaning in for a soft and tender kiss.

Chapter 19 Coming Next Week

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099 @www-interludeshadow-com @ladybeautiful18

[jedijesi]

🥹thank you so much!!!!!!

victoria-rue's Recommendation Masterlist part 4

I can't believe I've done this four times. I should probably link the other four lists, I just now thought of that. In every list there are at most 50 people tagged, just because I once read that was the limit. I have now learned otherwise; I won't be changing that up now, it feels like tradition. Also, every single story linked in all of my masterlists has at least 2 chapters. But now, the important part, the Authors. These authors deserve to have their stories spread, the same stories that linger long after the last page. Their creativity ignites imaginations and sparks conversations that bring us closer together. So even if barely anyone will see this, I hope the people who do enjoy their stories as much as I did ♥︎

Recommendation Masterlist part 1, part 2, part 3, & part 4

Marvel

Peter/Pietro Maximoff

Bitchin' by @taintandviolent

You always wear your silver rollerskates. But, when Peter Maximoff decides to check out the roller rink's arcade, and spots you... It's fate. At least, Peter thinks so.

Matthew Murdock

and then I met you by @souliebird

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

Bucky Barnes

Honey Girl By @violentdelightsandviolentends

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Mermaid eyes by @lady-laree-world

Peter Parker

Basic Training by @cherienymphe

A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Starcrossed lovers by @frost-queen

You & Peter were in love till he lost you. Pulled through a portal he did not expected to meet you again on a different earth. When the battle against Green Goblin in upon them has Peter a chance to forgive himself but at what cost?

Miguel O'hara

Caught in the Cat’s Web by @jedijesi

Felicia Hardy, Black Cat, endures a nasty breakup with Peter Parker, and now with her new Spider-Powers, she must navigate the Spider society and her hot yet unbearable leader, Miguel O'Hara

(You're my) Antidote by @allysunny

Carrying Miguel's child was the best thing that happened to you. It meant he loved you and you two were on your way to start a family. But what you don't see, are the brightly coloured screens in his office that tell him you are slowly dying.

Puzzle Pieces by @exhaslo

A Second Chance by @naturesqueen23

After the loss of his daughter Miguel wants nothing to do with kids that is until he impulsively offers his pregnant neighbor a job at the Spider-Society.

EVERY YOU EVERY ME by @astroboots

You are falling from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building when you're saved by the unfriendly neighborhood Spider-man.

Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley

To Have & To Hold by @ofstarsandvibranium

To ensure you're always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don't necessarily hate Marc, but you don't get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

How To Train Your Dragon

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III

A Gift from the Gods by @pastel0rchid

Centuries ago, the gods granted your family a gift. But everyone else saw it as a curse. You are the last of your clan because others find your family’s gift as anything but. Your life has been filled with hiding in the woods, away from the Vikings who threaten your existence. The forest quickly became your safe space. Everything in your quiet life suddenly changes when you are spotted by a Viking and his Night Fury, who quickly notice something strange about you. You had wings… dragon wings.

Ultraman Rising

Kenji Sato

mommy’s here by @kiwiikato

Grocery girl by @harveyb-wabbit92

You were a delivery girl who was a frequently dispatched to famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

Harry Potter

Remus Lupin

Secret Smokes by @writing-in-the-impala

When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting, and a rollercoaster of emotions.

James Potter

Enchanted by @pretty-little-mind33

Three weeks after his devastating break up with Lily, James wanted Remus and Sirius to bring him to a muggle bar in central London.

Harry Potter

The Malfoy sister by @mastermindmiko

Harry Potter hated only one person more than Draco Malfoy, and that person was y/n malfoy, her and that perfect smile. 

Neville Longbottom

your girl by @hogwartseighthyear

neville’s roommates find you in his bed after your first time together.

George Weasley

The Daring, Forbidden and Evil by @futurewriter2000

Being the daughter of the famous Death Eaters really hasn't been one of your proudest features but you haven't let that stop you from being exactly who you are. Since your grandmother died, you had to move in with your mother's side of the family, moving to the Malfoy Manor and transferring to another school. It was all horrible all up until you met a certain somebody that made the expereince a bit more interesting. 

Weasley twins

Vulnera Sanentur by @emeritusemeritus

The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Wanna Bewitch you in the moonlight by @emeritusemeritus

Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not. 

Descendents

Harry Hook

girl almighty by @httpwarmth

Cant stop this feeling by @descendantofthesparrow

it was just a normal night, a few days into the senior trip for the Auradon prep seniors, all the vks and aks were together on the royal cruise ship. but it suddenly takes a turn when Harry fucking Hook comes to your door late at night with a hard-on, and he can't get himself off without help, it hurts to even try; and for some odd reason, he couldn't help but be attracted to your room.... it's a damn good thing you ended up not having a roommate for this trip.

Avatar

Miles Quaritch

The enemy’s mate by @lovebeinaprincessworld

Your fathers enemy being your vitra muntxa seemed like Eywa was punishing you. But maybe it wasn’t that bad after all. 

Infatuation by @nervousd

Recom! Miles Quaritch is tasked with a mission to reunite you with his predecessor in his grave

Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan

Unrequited by @randxmthxughts

y/n had been in love with tsu'tey since they were kids, watching him get his heart broken over and over, until he became hardened. on one particular night, she offers him intimacy with no expectations in return, which sparks up a complex relationship between them. y/n and tsu'tey struggle with guilt, unrequited love, and newfound intimacy, as they navigate the depths of their feelings for each other. can tsu'tey ever find it in his heart to love somebody else?

Ronal & Tonowari

tsamsiyu ta'em by @torukmaktoskxawng

Corporal Makayla Sully believed she was the last of her family. Her parents were long gone, her brother Tom was killed for his wallet, and his twin Jake abandoned her in exchange for the sunny paradise Pandora. Kayla is informed of Jake's passing and so she decides to take a job opportunity with General Frances Ardmore. She hitches a ride to Pandora with the intent of recovering her brother's remains, twenty years since the last time she's seen him. Instead of a box of bones or ash, however, she's given something she thought she lost a long time ago.

Similar by @ofaatuu

you meet the Tsahik and Olo'ekytan of the metkayina clan and have similar features. They found you interesting and watch you from afar.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Secret Cove by @pandorafairy

Safe Haven by @thewalkingwillowtree

Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love. 

Sully Family

Stxeli by @onskepa

Where Mo'at found the reader when she was a baby

neglected sully by @marymary-diva17

There was a family motto that Jake had taught all his children that sully stick together and that their family is a fortress. Well, that was not only true for the one sully child neglected all her life. She didn’t get the same love her siblings had and had always been seen as less than by her parents and clan, soon banished and disowned by her own family for an event that was out of her hands. The daughter will quickly start a new life, being seen and loved by others, but soon, the people from her past will return.

tame impala by @lvrcpid

you’re the oldest sully child. only born a year before neteyam. everything was sweet until your siblings came along. your parents slowly forgot you, soon your siblings did too. you were the forgotten sully. but what happens when you’re given another chance at life after your death.

Narcos

Javier Peña

Bones Full of Words by @wardenparker

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy. He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Hubby and Wife by @notjustjavierpena

A slice-of-life series of former DEA agent Javier F. Peña turned husband of his wife. This series serves the purpose of letting you into the intimate bits of how he falls for you to you giving him a beautiful family. Life with Javi is a fun, lighthearted, supportive, and sexy adventure ❤️

Javi & Steve

The Raid by @toxicanonymity

Two DEA agents find you on a drug raid and make some changes in your life, starting with getting you off drugs. They share you and have sexual tension with each other.  Steve is not married. Reader is not physically described, but has some general background as a drug user who had a boyfriend.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

Enoch O’Connor

A Little Green by @pythonees

Idyllic by @intoanothermind

Is it possible to fall in love through stories? Well, it happened to me. I fell in love with the stories that my grandmother told me.

Hazbin Hotel

Lucifer

He Chose You by @trashogram

Hazbin Hotel AU where Lilith never existed, Lucifer has been lonely for over a millennia and Charlie will be born one way or another.

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐄 by @yuitoru

you knew that you would always be second to her. no matter how hard you tried or whatever you did, he would continue loving her over everything else. the ring on his finger proved it. even after seven years of heartbreak and betrayal, he still wears the ring, the shiny metal practically taunting at you every single day. it served as a reminder to you about how irrelevant you really were in comparison to his first love - how he would choose her over you without even having to think about it. you were just there, a temporary distraction to his years of grief.

LUCIFER MAGNE by @champagnefountains

Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN by @lxkeee

Alastor

Deer dolly by @ohproserpine

"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?" "Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—" “Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?” “Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”

Alastor's Birdy by @rory-cakes

Royally Pissed by @selineram3421

Alastor with a y/n who's Charlie's sibling/Lucifer's child.

[jedijesi]

Just finished redoing my masterlist!😍

Welcome to my Masterlist! My inbox is open for requests or if you just wanna chat🤍 Feel free to let me know if you want to be added to a specific Taglist! 💕my kofi

Love, Jesi🤍

Din Djarin

One Shots:

Luminary Love 🔞

A Mandalorian Halloween 🔞🎃

Threads of Gold🔞

Ask/ Drabbles/ HC:

Blushing Din

Javier Peña

Series:

Biblichor 🔞

Miguel O’Hara

One-shots:

Phantom of the Spider Society 🔞🎃

Series:

Caught in the Cat’s Web Masterlist 🔞

Royal AU Series coming soon!

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cat's Web Chapter 17

Felicia Hardy!Reader x Miguel O'Hara

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Smut (office sex, piv, oral), Fluff, Angst, she/her pronouns

Summary: As the Spider Society turns on Miguel and Felicia, they form a team of trusted allies to help prove their innocence.

Word Count: 3K

Co-Author: @stclairesplace

Nueva York, Earth-928

"Baby?" Felicia's voice echoed through the office as she searched for her boyfriend.

The platform lowered, capturing Felicia's attention. Reluctantly, Miguel turned away from the information illuminating the screens surrounding him to look down at Felicia.

"Hola, mí Hermosa," he sighed, his expression tired.

The platform touched the ground, allowing Felicia to join him. Raising her hands, she cupped his face, using her thumbs to run along the prickly facial hair forming on his jaw.

"When was the last time you took a break... or shaved?" she asked with a concerned frown.

Miguel shrugged, looking into her eyes filled with worry. "Last break was when we were at your place... and the last time I shaved... sometime last week," he recalled.

"Spider," Felicia said with a lopsided frown, "you have to take care of yourself."

"I don't have time," Miguel sighed, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I need to figure this shit out, before they—before they turn on us, and we have a whole new problem on our hands." 

"I know, baby. It's okay to work on it, but you have to take care of yourself. I missed you last night."

"I'm sorry," Miguel replied, mimicking her frown for a moment before transitioning into a mischievous smirk. "Will you let me make it up to you?" He leaned down, capturing her lips with his.

Felicia moans at the feeling of his stubble grazing her soft skin. Their passion and desire consume each other. With the stress of everything that's happened in the past 24 hours weighing on them, they needed a release, they needed each other. 

“Make it up to me.” She whispers into the passionate kiss. 

Miguel moans in excitement, his hand wandering down to the curve of her ass, smacking it. As it echoes through the empty office, she gasps at the feeling. Felicia could feel herself becoming wetter as his lips moved down to her neck. His stubble scratches her sensitive neck, adding to the pleasure.  

“Oh, Miguel.” Her head falls back, giving him more access. 

“Sí?” He responds, sucking marks into her neck, claiming her as his. 

“I need you,” Felicia whispers, pressing the spider emblem of her suit, letting it fall to her feet. 

and Miguel groans into her neck, his claws ripping her underwear. Suddenly his hands wander lower to the back of her thighs and using his strength he picks her up. Felicia gasped in surprise as he lifted her up, placing her legs over his shoulder, holding her in the air, and allowing his tongue to explore her folds. 

“Oh, fuck!” Felicia screams, his lips kissing and sucking her clit. She loved the feeling of his hands gripping her ass, desperate for her. 

“You like that, baby?” Miguel growls into her clit. “You like it when I man-handle you?” 

Her nails dig into his scalp, tugging onto the curls of his chocolate hair. “Fuck, yes!” She cries. 

Felicia’s praises further encourage Miguel, prompting him to desperately lap her soaked pussy. Needing to taste more of her, he pushes his tongue into her pussy, feeling her walls contract around him. As his tongue explored her, the bridge of his nose rubbed her clit perfectly, adding to her pleasure. The sensation made her eyes roll back, hips bucking for more. As she fucked his face she could feel the sting of his stubble, scratching her delicate thighs and lips. The new sensation added to her pleasure. 

“Fuck, baby, your stubble feels so good.” She moans, continuing to ride his face.  

“You getting close?” Miguel asks.

Felicia moans louder “Mmhmm! I- I’m so fucking close. I- I’m gonna - I’m cu-” Miguel stops abruptly, causing her to cry. “No baby, please.” She pleads. 

Miguel smirks as he sets her down. “You gotta work for it, gatita.” He growls, sitting in the chair beside him. His suit dissipates as he pats his lap. “Come on, Hermosa, don’t you wanna cum?” He coos teasingly. 

A smirk forms on Felicia’s face as she hastily straddles Miguel’s lap, letting her arousal, drip onto his hard cock. His head falls back, the sensation, teasing the head of his cock, causing pre-cum to drip. 

“Come on,” Miguel grips her waist. 

Slowly, Felicia sinks down onto him, letting out a long moan as she adjusts to his impressive size. Her head falls to his shoulder, biting the muscle. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re big.” She pants. 

“I know, baby girl, you can take it, though.” He coos, a hand rubbing soothing circles onto her back. 

After a moment, she rises, leaving only the tip of his cock inside of her before slamming back down. The two moan in unison, the pleasure overwhelming their senses. Felicia does this a few more times until Miguel is aching for more.

“Fuck!” Miguel groans. “You’re just teasing me, now.” He scolds. 

Felicia smirks, looking up at the man with beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. “My my baby how the tides have turned.” She hums. 

Suddenly, Miguel’s hand comes up around her throat, holding her so that she looks into his eyes. “If you don’t start bouncing on my cock right now, I’ll make you regret it.” 

He hisses as her walls contract around him in excitement. “Is that so?” His grip around her throat tightens. 

Felicia bites her lip as she begins to pick up her pace.  “That’s my girl.” Miguel sighs, letting his grip loose and head fall back in pleasure.  

Her pace quickens, relentlessly bouncing on his cock. He can't help but buck up into her, desperate for more. With each bounce, the head of his cock hits her G-spot perfectly. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, causing tears to well up in her eyes. 

“Aw, look at you.” Miguel coos with heavy-lidded eyes. “So fucking desperate for my cock.” 

“I need it.” She whines. “I want your cum.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, bucking up into her, their hips meeting as they fuck each other. “My needy girl’s so desperate for my cum, huh?.” 

Felicia nods her head as she grinds down on him. “I’m getting close again, baby.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re so fucking tight.” Miguel bites his lip, trying to hold his orgasm back for as long as possible. “Keep riding me, just like that ugnh!” 

She can feel his cock twitching inside of her as his orgasm gets closer. Miguel’s hands are spread on her ass, helping her bounce on his cock. Felicia’s arousal drips down his cock with each bounce, stimulating his balls as it soaks him. He lifts his head, bringing his lips back to her exposed neck, begging for attention. Miguel kisses and sucks her neck, his fangs grazing her skin with each movement, teasing her. 

“Oh, m-mig- fuck! I’m so- so fucking close.” She pants. “Please, please let me cum?” Felicia begs. 

“Not yet.” Miguel groans into her neck. “I’m close.” 

The rhythm of their wet bodies slapping together, mixed with their screams and moans echoes through the office. If anyone was walking by right now, they would have no doubt that Miguel was having the best sex of his life. 

“That’s it, just like that.” He encourages, her pussy gripping his cock perfectly. “Fuck, cum. Cum right now, cum all over me.” Miguel demands. 

Felicia’s nails dig into Miguel’s biceps as she cums around him. A series of moans emit from her, sounding like the perfect melody to his ears. The contractions of her orgasm trigger Miguel’s causing him to cum deep inside of her, filling her with his cum. As he cums, his arms wrap around her, holding her close to his chest and burying his face into her neck. He needed to be as close as possible to her, to be consumed in her perfection. 

The couple panted, their breaths heavy as they held onto each other. They embraced the stillness of the moment, basking in each other's presence. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving them in their little sanctuary of passion.

“How was that, Hermosa?” Miguel asks, pressing lazy kisses to her cheek. 

Felicia hums, leaning into his touch. “So good.” She smiles. “Have I ever told you how unbelievably hot you are?” 

He chuckles, pressing his forehead against hers. “I don't believe you have.” he teases. 

“Well, let me tell you that you, good sir, are the hottest Spider-Man in all of the multiverses.” 

Miguel smiles as he leans in to press a tender kiss to her lips. 

“Oh! You guys are doing it again!” LYLA cheers as she materializes. 

“I thought we just had this talk.” Miguel scolds the AI. 

“You’re in your office during work hours, I don't think I’m the one doing anything wrong here.” She crosses her arms, returning Miguel’s scold. 

He rolls his eyes before hissing, as Felicia moves to stand. She mouths a quick sorry as she tries to gain balance, her exhausted legs betraying her. 

“Well, Jess and the others are on their way in,” LYLA informs the two, sending panic through them. 

“What?!” Felicia shouts as she tries to find her suit, which had been kicked off during sex.

Miguel’s suit materializes around his body, jumping up to help her. “Fuck! Why didn’t you tell me?!” His voice, now, angry. 

LYLA rolls her eyes at the couple. “Once again, it’s still work hours and you're the one who set this meeting up yesterday.” 

Felicia quickly found her suit, and the sound of laughter echoed through the hallway as Miguel's guests entered. With urgency, she stepped into her suit, and Miguel helped her, both of them trying to avoid getting caught. Their hearts raced, as the footsteps grew louder. Miguel’s large form does his best to cover Felicia’s partially dressed body from the entrance of his office. 

“Miguel!” Jessica shouts in an attempt to get his attention. Reluctantly, he turns to face the team. “Oh, hi Felicia…” Jessica’s head tilts to the side as the Night Spider speaks around Miguel’s body. 

“Hey, Jess,” She says sheepishly. 

“Miguel, old pal!” 

Felicia's attention shifted to the Spider-Man next to her. He appeared older, with obvious signs of exhaustion, large bags under his eyes, and weariness etched into his features. He was tall but not nearly as tall as her boyfriend. 

The Spider-man opened his arm, bringing Miguel into a big embrace which he did not reciprocate. “Peter,” Miguel responded, stoically. 

The Spider-Man pulled back from the hug, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder. "Aw, where's the love?!" he teased. "I came back early from paternity leave for this?" His chuckles filled the room.

Felicia took a step out of Miguel's shadow, drawing the Spider-Man's attention towards her. "Felicia?" His voice held a soft note of recognition with a hint of a smile.

Her eyebrows knitted together; she'd never met this Spider-Man before. "Yes?" Felicia replied, her curiosity piqued.

The Spider-Man takes a step toward her, his eyes boring into her soul. His smile fades, “Sorry, I thought you were my Felicia.” 

“Your Felicia?” Miguel becomes intrigued. 

“Yeah, you look so much like mine, but she… she’s not around anymore.” He smiles softly, recalling the memories. “I’m Peter B. Parker.” He introduces himself. 

“Felicia Hardy, Earth-192.” She replies. 

“Wanna see a picture of my kid?” He hastily digs into the pocket of his suit for his phone, moving to stand between the couple. “This is my daughter, Mayday, after her first shit.” He gleams, looking at the picture. “Isn’t she precious!” 

Miguel rolls his eyes before pushing Peter’s phone down. “Yeah, yeah, cute kid. We had an actual emergency going on here, you mind?”

“Sixteen more watches have been stolen last night,” Jessica informs the group, conducting the meeting. 

“Sixteen?” Felicia asks in shock. “No security footage? No leads?” 

“They were stolen during last night’s shift change, and all the security footage in that tower was cut during that time.” The Spider-Woman informs the team. “Although, LYLA was able to track one of the watches back to Earth-1048.”

“Has Spider-Man 1048 been deployed?” Miguel asks. 

“Yes, he’s staking out the Maggia as we speak. Here’s the weird thing, though” The team p[erk up  “Peter Parker was able to track a multiversal call from the Maggia to someone in the Spider-Society tower.”

“So it is an inside job.” Peter B clarifies. 

“Exactly.” Jessica nods. 

As Felicia sat in on the meeting, she absorbed the proceedings with keen attention. While it wasn't her first rodeo in dealing with these kinds of gatherings or collaborating with seasoned Spider-People, she couldn’t deny that her few months as the Night-Spider became evident. The way they methodically assessed the situation, devised strategic plans, and seamlessly collaborated and created an atmosphere that she found unfamiliar and, at the same time, intriguing.

Felicia found herself captivated by the subtle nuances of Miguel's expressions as he absorbed the information. The way his brows knit together, a silent indicator of the gears turning in his brilliant mind, held a certain fascination for her. It was a sight she had witnessed countless times, yet each instance left her intrigued, unable to pry her eyes away. There was an effortless grace in the way he stood tall and took charge of any situation. No matter the complexity of the task at hand, Miguel exhibited a commanding presence, navigating any challenges with ease. In simple words, it was sexy. 

Miguel acknowledged the Peters with a nod of gratitude. "Thank you again, Peters, for dropping everything to be here," he said appreciatively.

The two Peters reciprocated with nods of acknowledgment. "It’s our privilege, O’Hara," LEGO Peter replied, a warm smile accompanying his words.

“We’ll reconvene when there’s a development,” Miguel declared, turning his attention back to the monitors. The trio of heroes made their way out, chatting amiably among themselves.

As the door closed behind them, Felicia redirected her focus to the captivating man beside her. She observed the three heroes disappearing down the hall before turning her gaze back to Miguel.

“Hey, Spider,” she purred, stepping closer and looking up at him through her lashes.

“Gatita,” he smirked, his hand gently cupping her cheek. He prompted her to look up into his ruby eyes, creating an intimate moment between them.

“Hey LYLA,” Felicia whispers, gaining the AI’s attention. “You think you can get my suit cleaned again?” she asks with a hint of embarrassment. 

LYLA rolls her eyes, “Do condoms not exist on your Earth?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Was it just me, or is... something going on between Miguel and Felicia?" Jessica inquired as they chatted in hushed tones down the halls of Miguel’s office.

Peter B. nodded confidently. "Oh, yeah, they're fuckin’, no doubt about it."

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "That's pretty drastic; I don't think it's anything like that."

"No, no, no. That's the face of a man who's being well fucked. Trust me," he insisted.

She turned away from the Spider-Man in mild disgust. "I was going to imply that they're becoming friends or developing feelings… not fucking."

"Come on," he said confidently. "That's Felicia Hardy. She's every Spider's weakness. He’s never met a Black Cat before, and if she's anything like mine was, there's no doubt they're together."

Jessica’s brows knit together as she evaluates the possibility. “No fucking way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Thank you!" Felicia's smile widened as she grabbed the bags of takeout from the marble counter of the restaurant on the top floor of the Spider Society.

As she made her way out through the double doors, her eyes caught sight of a familiar figure, maskless and unmistakably Peter Parker. The very sight of him stirred a tumult of emotions within her, each one tinged with bitterness and resentment. 

"Peter Parker!" Her voice rang out sharply, cutting through the hallway and drawing the attention of passing Spider-Men. With determined steps, she charged down the corridor, her gaze fixed on him and his smirking face.

"Well, hello, gorgeous-" 

SMACK! 

The sound reverberated through the hallway; Peter’s eyes widened in shock as the sting of her slap registered in his mind, wiping away his shit-eating grin. His hand instinctively moved to the stinging mark left behind, his gaze following Felicia as she stormed off towards the elevators, her furious demeanor leaving no room for further conversation. 

The elevator doors parted for Felicia, and she quickly slipped inside. However, before the doors could close, Peter managed to slip in as well.

"Felicia," he nodded.

"You told everyone I was dating a Spider-Person!" Felicia turned to face Peter, her hand raised in anger, ready to deliver another slap. But this time, Peter was quicker—he caught her wrist mid-air, halting her motion before her hand could make contact.

Peter moves to press the emergency stop button, prompting a groan from Felicia. “I was only telling people the truth.” He smiles, playing “innocent”. 

“And what makes you think I’m seeing anyone.” 

He chuckles before answering, “Well, Aunt May said that you told her a few stories about us and met your new ‘freakishly tall and unbelievably hunky man’, as she likes to put it.” He rolls his eyes. “And when I went to share this fun fact with the group, Web-Slinger was more than happy to tell everyone about your little affair and how mad Miguel was when he caught you two going at it.” Peter laughs at the mental image of Felicia getting in trouble. 

“You and Patrick are like the same height! He’s maybe, two inches taller, that wouldn't make any sense.” 

“Well, May’s old.” He shrugs. “And Mr. Ben Reily backed him up on it, said he saw your tits in Web-Slinger’s mouth.” 

Felicia shook her head in annoyance. “Whatever, if I am seeing someone why even bring it up, why are you so goddamn obsessed!”

He sighs, leaning against the elevator wall. “‘Cause… You come here, into my Spider Society, and get all the praise! I’ve been a part of this society for years, and Miguel doesn't even look at me, but you get in here, with my help, and he's obsessed with you! Every goddamn Spider-Person is obsessed with you!” 

“You’re pathetic.” She huffs, hitting the emergency button to resume the elevator. “You’re mad at me for not putting up with your cheating, and now you're mad at me for being a better hero than you!”

“You were a dirty ally cat when I found you.” He scoffs.

Felicia rolls her eyes. “And you’re still a whiny little bitch who craves attention. Say, why don’t you go curl up on MJ’s lap like a good little boy? Hmm?”

The elevator rings, signaling their arrival. As the doors open, Felicia makes a beeline toward Miguel's office, desperate to leave the conversation.

“Of course, you were running errands for the boss.” Peter scoffs. “O’Hara’s girl.” 

She smiled to herself, repeating the nickname in her head. “Kiss my ass.”

The automatic doors shut behind her, allowing Felicia’s body to finally intense. “Mr. Boss-Man?” She called out through the corridors of his office. 

“Coast is clear!” Miguel calls back. 

“Hi, baby.” She hums as he comes into view. 

“Thank you for dinner.” He sighed, finally turning away from his monitors. Felicia nodded, setting the take-out bag down on his desk. “I hope it wasn't too much trouble, I could have gotten it for us.” 

“A pain in the ass, but you needed to shave first. We didn’t want anyone seeing that, now, do we?” She teased, turning his head to look at her, allowing her to run her fingers along his soft jaw. 

Miguel softly chuckles before pulling her close. “Mí chica linda.” He whispers against her lips before closing the distance, molding their lips together. 

Chapter 18

A/N: Lmk if u wanna be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099 @www-interludeshadow-com

[jedijesi]

i think i’m in love with you…

okay… i have put out this out there cause i can’t stop thinking about it. what if Arthur’s s/o was the one to get kidnapped by the O’Driscolls and he finds and saves her… imagine the smut after that👀

Oh ho… I have something in the works for that 😉