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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 month ago

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snow white

kinktober, day fifteen

a/n: i really wanted to play around with a fairytale this kinktober season and i came up with maybe too many ideas for a bunch of different ones, but this one just stuck with me for months, so i had to go with this one.

summary: that was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in.

warnings: snow white!reader x various, dark!prince!billy russo, miners!steve rogers, bucky barnes, thor odinson, miguel o'hara, marc spector, matt murdock, frank castle, dark content, smut, fairytale retelling, innocent!reader, references to loss of virginity, arranged engagement, assassination attempt, violence, poison apple, kidnapping, somno, polyamory, reverse harem, time jump (for domestic and slutty purposes), kissing, fingering, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, overstimulation, oral, handjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, gangbang, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, unprotected sex, creampie, dark ending

word count: 6746

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masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

Once upon a time, there lived a princess.

You, to be exact.

However, your day-to-day life, that wasn’t a part of you that one could define as something very regal, not lately, not since your father had died and left you in the hands of his late wife, a vain woman he had only married a short time prior to his passing.

There wasn’t much you were allowed to do any longer as your stepmother was perhaps a bit too overprotective of you in her own cold way, even though many of the chores the sea of servants that buzzed within the castle took care of, that for some reason wasn’t off limits to you, if not encouraged by the queen.

But it was all out of love, wasn’t it?

“Oh, there you are!” your gaze fluttered up to find the prim and familiar figure stalking towards you in the gardens, “what in the world are you doing out by this ghastly old well?”

“Prince William,” you stiffened up slightly at his presence and swiftly did a curtsy, “w-what are you doing here?”

“Ah, come on, Snow,” his palm brushed against the edge of the stone well, briefly cleaning it a bit before he leaned against it, “how many times do I have to tell you to call me Billy?”

“Your Highness,” you swallowed nervously, “I’m just not sure that would be completely appropriate. You deserve to be paid with the utmost respect.”

“Oh, I agree,” a sly smirk slithered across his chiselled features, “though, I do think my fiancé should be allowed just a little leniency.”

“Oh,” you put on a smile for the royal, “you got engaged? Congratulations! Is it to someone I know?”

“I’d sure hope so,” he grinned, and the next words that rolled off his tongue caused your face to drop, “it’s you.”

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but flinch as he stepped to get closer to you.

“…excuse me?” you breathed, your hand fluttering up to the neckline of your modest gown as you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest.

“We’re to be married,” he caught your hand and kept on smiling, “I just sorted the last of the details out with your mother a few moments ago.”

“Stepmother,” you corrected him hazily before uttering, “I–… how come I didn’t know about any of this? Why didn’t anyone think to ask me what I wanted?”

Billy’s face then scrunched up at your question, as if it was the strangest of reactions to have at such news, “well you know now.”

“That’s–,” you stared back at him, your eyes wide and horrified before you ripped your arm back out of his hold, “no.”

“What?”

“No, I don’t wanna marry you,” the words flowed out of your lungs.

But to your astonishment, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom then only chuckled, “what do you mean you don’t want to marry me? Of course you do, everyone does.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Slowly, he seized your arm in a bruising grip before inching closer to you and leaning down to sternly whisper in your ear, “you better get rid of this attitude before you become my wife.”

The following week when the queen suggested that you go for a walk through the nearby woods, an activity you’d formerly thought to be banned as all your previous pleas throughout the years had failed, you nearly stumbled as you rushed to accept the opportunity.

Where this newfound kindness had come from that you had no clue of, though you weren’t going to argue now as the chains around you slowly began to slacken.

The queen’s protective nature for you stayed fast however when she sent a guard to accompany you, though one you’d never encountered before as you spent so much time in the castle that you knew all of the others by name. Perhaps he was just new?

Though when you eventually came upon a clearing and you decided to take a small break in that peaceful and serene glen, it all changed so quickly that you nearly got whiplash.

One moment, you were grinning up at the treetops, whistling back to the birds building a nest up there, and the next, the guard shadowing you had raised a dagger up high and lunged it down upon you. Thankfully, luck was for once on your side and you managed to twist just enough for it to miss your sternum and instead slice through your sleeve and cut your shoulder.

When you tried to run, a shrill scream erupting your frame, the knight caught your arm before you could manage to escape.

Though just as all hope seemed lost, when the dappled sunlight caught and reflected in the shiny blade as he rose it back up high, it never pierced your heart as a pickaxe instead suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, flying through the air and lodging itself right above the guard’s brow.

He stayed standing for a second, blood trickling down his face, before the warrior’s body fell backwards and collapsed on the forest floor.

Your frame shook like a leaf on the wind as you stood there, eyes wide with horror, watching his brain leak and stain the moss below your feet.

“Are you alright, my lady?” a deep voice called from behind you, though it still took you a moment before you were able to rip yourself out of your petrified state.

As you slowly twisted around, you saw seven men standing at the edge of the clearing, all of them except the blonde one in the middle with a pickaxe clutched in their hands.

“Are you hurt?” the miner missing his tool spoke again, taking a ginger step closer.

Still reeling, unable to fathom that you nearly just lost your life, you blinked, “I–… I–…” though just continued to stand there, frozen in the middle of the storm.

“You’re bleeding,” a dark-haired man further down the line uttered before the muddled confusion that bloomed on your horrified features caused him to gently gestured to your arm and guide your gaze down to your shoulder.

“O-oh…” you blinked back at the gash, though still couldn’t pierce through the fog to do anything more. As your glossy eyes flickered back up to gaze at your heroes, the woods around you began to spin as you then blubbered, “you saved me… I–… I–…” before the whole forest went black and you collapsed into a pair of quick arms.

“Wow, it’s alright,” a voice washed over you as soon as you came to, “you’re okay.”

After your eyes had found the source of the deep timbre, they then flickered around to take in the unfamiliar home you now found yourself in.

“Where am I?” you asked hesitantly as you sat up in the bed you’d been planted on. Looking around the space, it wasn’t the only one as the whole room was filled with enough sleeping arrangements for all of the strangers.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” the long golden locks on the man sitting by your feet rustled slightly as he raised up both hands in a gesture of goodwill, “you’re in our home,” he informed you before his neck twisted and he shouted out the open bedroom door, “hey guys! She’s awake!”

As the rest of the men from the forest began to filter into the dormitory, your legs curled up beneath the blanket and you swiftly hugged your knees to your chest.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” one of them asked in a careful tone.

“I–…” you felt your heart thump in your chest as your wide eyes danced between the burly figures, “what do you–, w-why did you take me with you?”

Taking a step forward, a dark-haired one said, “well, we couldn’t in good conscience just leave you back there and let you bleed next to your assassin,” he then tilted his head, “plus my healing supplies were all back here.”

As you glanced down to discover your slashed sleeve cut off and missing with a bandage instead wrapped around the ghastly cut on your upper arm, you then blinked back up at the stranger and asked, “you’re a healer?”

“No, not really, I’m a miner, we all are,” he gestured to the others.

“Yeah, we work in the mines out west on the other side of the village,” the one leaning against the doorframe shared.

You faintly recalled the mines they spoke of, though you hadn’t been out there since you were a child, the memory however of the glimmering jewels it produced still sparkled brightly in your mind.

“Hey, do you mind me asking,” the one standing beside the pickaxe-throwing blonde spoke, “why in the world would a royal guard want to kill you? I mean, forgive me if your looks are deceiving, but you look like just an innocent young girl.”

Averting your gaze to the quilted blanket draped over your form, you uttered, “it’s probably because my stepmother commanded him to…”

“Wow…” one of them breathed, “she has that kinda power? Then you must be, what–, some kind of lady?”

“Princess, actually,” you blinked up at them and watched as they all froze up, instantly growing so quiet that you would have been able to hear a single pin drop in the cottage, “thank you all so very much for saving me. I can’t even begin to fathom what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened.”

“Oh, well…” the blonde one in the middle shifted slightly, visibly nervous at the discovery of who you truly were, “you’re welcome, your–, uhm, highness.”

“Please, just call me Snow. That’s what everyone does,” you waved a hand and offered him a soft smile, “what are your names?”

“Well, I’m Steve,” the one who’d thrown the pickaxe pressed his palm to his broad chest, “and that there is Bucky, Thor and Marc,” he gestured to the other miners, “and that’s Matthew, Frank and Miguel.”

“Miguel,” you spoke the name of your healer, “thank you for patching up my arm.”

“Does it feel alright?” he glanced down at the bandage, he too clearly not having a clue how one should act around a royal, “because I could go get some herbs if you–”

“No, thank you, I think I’ll manage” you gently declined before uttering, “although, I–… what’s to happen now? I can’t just go back to the castle, I’d be dead within minutes.”

“Don’t you have anyone you trust somewhere else? Someone you could stay with?” the one named Matthew asked.

The only person your mind managed to scrounge up was the prince you’d been unwillingly promised to, and he wasn’t just an individual you didn’t trust, but also one you feared.

“No…”

“Uh…” Marc exhaled before his glance flickered across the rest, “would you excuse us for a moment?”

And as you offered a nod, they all filtered back out the bedroom and huddled up just outside the door, though you could still faintly catch a word or two in their discussion.

“Okay,” Steve crossed his burly arms across his chest when they all entered the room once more, “you can stay here for tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll help you come up with a plan.”

The following day, when all the miners had gone off to the mountains for the day’s work, they’d said their goodbyes before leaving you in the cottage, fully expecting you to no longer be there once they returned.

But you didn’t leave, you couldn’t have. Where would you have run off to?

So instead, to both try and convince the entire group of you staying, yet also in a makeshift attempt at thanking them for how they’d come to your aid, you spend the day cleaning their messy abode and welcoming them home to a dining table brimming with a roasted feast, a simple comfort none of them had seen in a while.

It had only been one of them who hadn’t instantly jumped onto the unanimous agreement to let you become a part of their household, but he swiftly received an elbow to the rib to help change his tune.

Not long passed before you soon grew close, and one night, after weeks of you experiencing a sensation you’d never even known existed, something unfamiliar that each and every one of them evoke and flooded your senses with, you finally couldn’t hold your tongue any longer as your innocence had begun to thrust you into the abyss of worry.

You still hadn’t received a permanent sleeping arrangement even though you’d been here for a while, each one of the miners still took turns letting you borrow one of their simple beds, all of them lined up along the perimeter of the shared bedroom, and let you rest there for the night while they took the humble couch.

So as you sat on your bed for the night and your gaze shadowed the men as finished getting ready for the night, shedding their clothing and washing up in a small basin by one of the windows, the unfamiliar feeling fluttered once more in your lower belly and drove you to part your lips and utter, “hey Miguel?” you caught the attention of the healer of the lot, “I think there might be something wrong with me…”

Patting his damp face dry with a small rag, he brought it down upon his shoulder as he furrowed his dark brows over at you, “why would you think that?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you met his glance, “I feel strange…”

“Strange how?” he took a seat at the foot of the mattress you were curled up on, “explain it to me.”

“Well,” you began hesitantly, “ever since I got here, since I met you all, this weird feeling keeps bubbling up inside of me, like I’m about to faint or something, like I can’t think, and all I can focus on is just this odd tingling sensation almost, like–, I don’t know how to explain it, I know it sounds weird, but I swear, something’s going on, I don’t know what, but it’s weird.”

The man’s head then promptly tilted to the side and you heard him exhale, “oh, honey…”

Your explanation also caught the attention of the rest of the miners and even conjured a small laugh in some, though Steve swiftly stepped in and barked, “hey! Shut it!” rapidly putting a holt to Bucky and Marc’s amusement.

Placing a palm on your blanket-covered shin, Miguel then uttered gently, “I think what you’re describing isn’t something bad.”

“Are you sure?” you sat up a bit more.

“Positive,” he nodded, trying his best to keep a straight face unlike some of the men behind him who still struggled even after getting scalded.

“So, I’m not sick?”

“No,” he shook his head, “you’re not.”

“Your Highness,” Frank then spoke up, “have you never–, uhm, been with someone else?”

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted together.

“Okay, uh…” Thor sighed softly, taking your confusion as enough of an answer, “have you ever–, let’s say, kissedsomeone before?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been kissed before,” your thoughts drifted to Prince Billy, though none of those times had stirred any sensations of this sort, “but I’ve never felt like this, not ever,” your gaze then danced between and caught each of the stares the seven miners directed at you, “what’s going on? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you touched yourself while you feel like this?” your eyes suddenly grew at Bucky’s bold question, “does your little honeypot get all wet from this feeling?” and when you found yourself too stunned to conjure an answer, he went on, this time with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “I mean, if you’d like, one of us could help you. Teach you how to make it feel better…”

“You know how to make it better?” you blinked back at him.

“Oh yeah,” his gaze dipped a bit as his grin grew wider.

“Do you want one of us to help you?” you then heard Steve offer.

And as your head began to rock in a soft nod, Marc asked, “which one do you want?”

But as you stared around at all of them, you murmured, “I–… I don’t know…”

“Just pick the one that gives you the most butterflies,” Matt tried to aid your decision, “the one that makes you feel like your heart lives between your thighs.”

“…do I have to pick?” you asked quietly as you blinked around at all of them, now clustered by the small bed, “couldn’t you all just help me?”

“…you want all of us to help you?” Miguel’s head dipped slightly as he tilted forward in surprise.

“At once?” Frank asked.

And as you offered them a nod, they all exchanged looks, silently agreeing before Steve uttered, “alright.”

With all of the miners surrounding the bed, they swiftly kneeled down on the floor in a half-moon around you before they began.

Before Marc, Thor and Frank the furthest from you grabbed a hold of the blanket draped over you and began to tug it down and let it crumble below your feet, Matt and Miguel to your right gently prepared you and began to undo your confusion.

Each of their touches were feathery in the beginning as their fingers ghosted over your frame. At first, it wasn’t even in that scandalous of places as Steve and Matt even continued to hold your hands long after the thin chemise you wore had been tugged at, the neckline pushed down to expose your boobs, heaving with every fierce breath you sucked in, and the skirts shoved up, letting the linen bunch well above your hips to uncover the place where the dizzying sensation peaked to unimaginable heights.

When the first touch fluttered between your legs, your eyes swiftly flickered up to find Bucky and Steve’s directly to your left as the pleasure was one you’d never even thought possible.

You rapidly melted into the bliss as lingering embarrassment faded away and you soon let them crack you open even further, folding up your legs to grant them all better access to your haven.

Even before your eyes fluttered closed, the job of deciphering which hand belonged to who was an impossible task. Floating in the sea of touches, not a millimetre of your skin was left unexplored, and neither were your untouched holes as they all turned you so molten that at one point everyone had at least one finger warm within you at once.

Four digits stretched out your lips and both gave your mouth something to drool around and also let your moans melt against their flesh. Three of them slipped in and worked in tandem to stretch out your virgin cunt. They’d even gotten you so relaxed that two managed to sneak a finger inside of your tight little ass, plugging you up completely.

And when the still unfamiliar high began to bubble within you and creep near, worry first began to billow out of you once more, though after some soothing sentences and an ask of trust, they carried you through the overwhelming ecstasy till you were trembling in their hands and begging them to grant you that gift one more time, like an addict, already craving that sweetness once again.

ONE YEAR LATER

“Ah-ha-ha!” Thor’s jovial rumble was the first sign you got that any of the fellows had returned after a day at the mines, “come here, princess!”

As he entered the cottage, arms spread out wide, he excitedly caught you in a hug and lifted you up as he swung you around till you became no more than an ethereal giggle in his hold.

“Oh, no,” you complained light-heartedly through your laugh as his stale smell of sweat mixed with soot flooded your senses, “you’re so dirty!” you tried to glance down at your dress to see if any of the grime from the mine had transferred.

Letting out a chuckle as he only tightened his hold around your frame, “you love it,” he tilted his head out of the crook of your neck and planted a kiss to your lips.

“You’re not–,” you continued your giggle even as his own mouth tried to smother the sound, “Thor, you need to bathe first.”

“Oh, really?” he cocked his head and slyly narrowed his eyes, “you sure you don’t wanna repeat the welcome home you gave me yesterday where you couldn’t wait? I mean, I could barely get in the door before you had your lips on me, struggling to fit my balls inside that little mouth of yours?”

His lips first pressed against your now hot cheek before they wandered across in a straight line down to your own, not simmering down his eagerness even as the rest of his fellow miners began to filter into the cabin.

“Oh, so that’s why you ran ahead,” Marc’s sigh caused you to break the peck, “of course.”

Still entangled in Thor’s strong arms, you glanced over at the familiar men who crossed the threshold and slowly began to set down their tools and peel off their muddy boots.

“Heya, boys,” a warm bubble burst within you as you flashed them all a smile. Attempting to slip out of the burly hug, Thor still kept his palm interlocked in your own as you made your way around through the crowd and began to greet the others, “how was the mine today?”

“It was fine,” Frank muttered in your ear when you hugged him.

And as your free arm lastly found Steve’s broad shoulder in an embrace, his low voice tickled the side of your neck as he exhaled, “hi Snow.”

“Hi,” you pressed a soft kiss to his bearded cheek.

As you retracted and let Thor pull you back against his warmth, Miguel asked, “so, what’s for dinner tonight?” as Thor leaned back against the sturdy dining table and dragged you with him, half planting you in his lap as he leaned you back against him.

Though as the softness of your bottom came to rest against the miner’s pelvis, a palpable hardness distracted you even through the layers of your dress, “uhm, I’ve got a lentil stew going over the fire,” your breathing began to grow unsteady as he discreetly grinded you down against his desperation, “it should be done soon.”

“Good,” Miguel smiled, haven not yet noticed the nefarious activities that had begun right under his own nose, “I’m starving.”

“What else have you gotten up to today?” Matt asked as he sat down on the bench where Marc had already planted himself, “did you begin that book we were talking about?”

“I–, uh, I started it, but I didn’t get that far,” your words became a struggle to form as you tried to fight through the fog Thor thrust you into, “ended up taking a nap instead.”

“Well, that’s good,” Bucky noted, “you were tossing and turning so much last–,” though his sentence then promptly crumbled as a soft whimper finally slipped out past your lips and drew his attention to the way Thor’s hands on your hips subtly rocked you down against him, “seriously?” he swiftly scalded him, “you couldn’t keep it in your pants for even two seconds?”

“Right,” Thor scoffed, “like I'm the only one who’s desperate,” he then buried his grasp in your skirts and before you had the chance to protest, picked it up to prove his point.

It was frankly a bit embarrassing how wet you already were, though when Thor grabbed ahold of your thighs and lifted you up, your back plastered against his chest as his hold on you spread you wide for all to see, your cunt couldn’t help but drool for them so fiercely that even the one furthest away from you could catch a glimpse of the glimmer glinting back at him in a lewd plea.

“Hm…” Bucky hummed warmly as he kneeled down before you, though only let his palm come up to ghost against your inner thigh and didn’t grant you the sweet relief of petting your pussy as she cried out for his touch, “your Highness, are you sure it wasn’t something else you were doing all day while we were off at work?”

“I–,” an airy chuckle innocently escaped your lungs, “what are you implying?”

“Well, either you were too impatient to wait for us,” you sucked in a breath as his hand finally drifted up to offer your core the softest of pets, teasing you further into madness, “or just the mere sound of the front door opening got you dripping the way that you are right now…”

“So, which is it, princess?” Frank smirked, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall beside the fireplace, “are you a whore or is it just for us?”

“You already know the answer to that…” you hazily smiled, though swiftly let out a whimper as Bucky removed his hand, denying you of any further pleasure. However, before you could part your lips in a complaint, Thor set you back down on your now wobbly feet.

Your gaze found Steve’s as he took a seat beside Marc, unlike the rest of the men who began to swarm around you, their broad hands swiftly reaching for your dress. It nearly didn’t even get the chance to drop back down and cover you from how Thor had torn it up, before they nearly ripped it to shreds.

And when no fabric was left to conceal your frame, your moment with your feet on the ground turned out to be more fleeting than you’d thought as both Frank and Miguel then shifted to stand behind you and their grasps found your form, first guiding your arms around their necks for support before they plucked you up.

As Matt stepped up and seized your flaming cheeks to dip his lips down to yours, a whisper then washed over you as the sweet kiss ended, “can I have a taste?” and as your head began to nod, your nose momentarily nuzzled against his own before his knees buckled.

Both Thor and Bucky enveloped a hand around your ankles, keeping you spread wide even as Matthew dropped down and made you squirm as his hot breath fanned across your glistening core.

As your lips parted in a gasp, staring down at Matt as he dipped down to kiss your puffy pearl, in your periphery you just managed to spot how everyone’s free hand had found the tent in their pants, squeezing it for an ounce of relief as they watched you intently.

When Matt’s tongue lapped through your petals, it wasn’t till he tilted his chin and sucked your clit into his mouth that your gaze fluttered up to find Marc’s across the room.

“O-oh, fuck,” you moaned into the cottage, “I need–, I–, I need more–,” the plea left your lips as you tried to keep your stare lock. Though the love pecks felt incredible, it was bordering the line of crude torture, only tickling at your senses and not granting you the sweet relief the deepest depths of you yearned for so fiercely.

It seemed like an eternity that Marc took to get up from his seat and actually cross the small room, though when he did, his palm briefly patted Matthew’s shoulder and caused the kisses to cease.

“How much more, princess?” Marc asked as Matt got up and let him switch places.

Though when your answer came in the form of your gaze dropping to his hard length, freed and heavy in his tight fist, one of the men holding you up murmured in your ear, “you want him to fuck you, huh? Is that what you want?” Frank’s deep timbre seeped directly into your bones as his lips dipped down to nip at your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded hazily, keeping your eyes glued as Marc stepped up and briefly swept the bulbous head of his cock through your folds.

For a second, you thought it had been Marc himself who had slowly thrust his entirety inside of you, though in actuality when Miguel and Frank’s hold on you tightened, they’d been the ones to tilt your body just as the girth caught your entrance, and lower you down on it in one fell motion.

“There you go, Snow,” Bucky breathed as your eyes fluttered at the stretch. Halting his palming of himself, Bucky’s hand soothingly swept up the length of you till it found your tit and cupped it gently, his calloused thumb stretching up to flick against your pebbly nipple and get your eyes to blink back open.

Marc’s efforts were purposely slow and he gently began to warm you up for what you expected was in store. Though on one of his long and deep strokes, plunging all the way inside of your little pussy before yanking himself out completely, you only blinked and when your eyes fluttered back open, it wasn’t Marc’s cock that was buried deep within you, but instead the last man to join the fray.

“S-Steve, o-oh!” your head tilted back slightly as his fat girth split you open.

“Oh, how do you always feel better than I recall?” Steve groaned, the tip of him already bumping against your cervix.

“It’s that fucking princess pussy,” Thor grunted, “I swear it’s like magic or something.”

“No matter how many of us try and fit inside of you at once, we just can’t ruin you,” Miguel kissed your cheek, “you just snap right back and we have to stretch you all the way back out again.”

Steve, Marc and Matt before you then took turns, fucking you slowly and building a rhythm till they became like a river, each of them only sinking in and letting their balls tap against your slick skin before they pulled back out and let the other one take a dive. As the silky pattern pushed you closer to the peak and made you dazed out of your mind, you stopped being able to tell who was fucking you when, as they all just flowed together and worked your body as one soul being. That was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in.

Once your first of many orgasms washed over you and rocked through your soul, your body was set back down, though only for a mere moment before Bucky picked you up into his arms and carried you with him as he lowered himself onto one of the long benches that stretched out on either side of the dining table.

As he settled you atop of him and slipped inside your still throbbing cunt, your head tilted up in the direction of the men whose hard lengths were still glistening with your juices and your hands fluttered up to motion for them, grabbing for their girths, way before your fingers could reach them, though when they did, Steve didn’t let your touch linger on himself but instead plucked up your face and parted your lips with his cock, letting your hands take care of Matt and Marc on either side of him while he gently fucked your mouth.

“Oh, shit,” Frank then appeared before you, wedging himself in beside Steve’s bulky form, “share some of that sugar,” his palm found your cheek and stroked it softly. As your lips left Steve with an audible pop, Frank’s fingers drifted up to bury themselves in your locks before he guided you to him and groaned as he finally felt you swallow his cock, “yes…”

However, what you didn’t expect was how Steve’s hand too fluttered up to tangle itself in the other side of your hair before they both took over your head’s movements, passing you back and forth between the both of them, though only granting themselves one long bob at a time.

When a pair of fingers softly swept over the last of your holes, your eyebrows knit together at the familiar teasing.

“What do you say, Snow?” you heard Thor utter from behind you as he brought his palm down to smack the curve of your ass, watching intently as Miguel’s fingertips rub against you, only shyly dipping inside the hole just above where Bucky split you open, “exactly how much more are you in the mood for today?”

And when you took your chance to catch your breath, you shot back your needy answer through your heaving intakes of air, “all of it.”

It wasn’t till Miguel let out a gravelly groan that you knew which one had gotten the chance to claim your ass first. When a dollop of his spit landed upon your skin, his thumb wasted no time to soar up and rub it in, swiping over your little rosebud as it stretched to take his girth.

The task of keeping up your attention to the four miners at your head became an impossible task as they gave your mouth a break for your breathless moans to flow freely and they instead came to your aid and helped guide your hands around to grant them all a bit of affection.

With both of your holes snuggly filled up, you felt yourself near the edge once more, though it was Thor who pushed you over it as his hand coiled around your waist and snaked down to find your swollen clit in a lavish pattern.

Though when you buried your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and trembled between his and Miguel’s burly forms, Thor’s touch dissipated and though you half expected him to join the rest up top, it still didn’t manage to surprise you what he opted for instead.

“Holy shit!” you shakily gasped, your palm nearly slapping Bucky in the chest as you felt Thor angle himself behind you and press his cock in beside Miguel’s, who’s dick was already more than enough for you to handle on its own.

“Shh,” Bucky tilted your chin down for you to catch his eye, “don’t act like this is your first time, princess,” he kept his own pace selfish as the silky wall parting him from the rest grew thinner than ever, “you can take it,” his palm tapped your cheek lightly as he smiled at how you overcame the staggering sensation, “just as you always do.”

And take it you did, soon gushing all over them as the three miners emptied themselves into your holes, pumping you full and leaving you a leaky mess for the remainder to enjoy while they all found a seat to relax in and watch you descend further into madness.

It was Frank who then flipped your molten form around, planting himself on the very same bench, and twisted you around for your back to be melting down against his front. He slipped in effortlessly as the two loads that dripped out of your ass aided his fat girth as he buried himself completely, fucking the other miner’s cum that much deeper inside your utterly wrecked hole.

“How’s she doing, huh?” Steve asked as he and Matthew stepped up between your parted legs, his fingers coasting down to spread open and inspect your pussy as it too leaked, “you think she can take a bit more? You think she can take on the two of us?” he briefly pumped two of his fingers into your quivering hole as he awaited your answer.

“I–, you can try,” you panted, hazily blinking down at how Matt’s digits too came down between your thighs and began to draw rude patterns over your puffy pearl, “I don’t know if I can do it, but you can try.”

“Atta girl,” Matt flashed you a smile before each of their touches was traded out for something much more overwhelming.

With Marc as the last one remaining above your head, he stayed patient and simply stood there, stroking your hair and even dipping down to press his lips to your cheek as your poor pussy struggled to take the two cocks your loves attempted to ease in there. Though, when your eyes widened at the eventual success, the man behind you only let you stare at the severe stretch a moment before he tilted your head back, supporting it with both of his hands as you caught on and parted your lips for him.

As he fucked your face, one of his hands briefly swept down to your throat as he fed you more of his length and spotted how a dull bulge of him appeared each time you gagged around his girth.

You felt as if you’d slipped into a trance by the time everyone had gotten the chance to cum inside your sweetness, yourself falling apart around them enough times that you lost count. Though even so, as you layed there, various burly men enveloping your half-continuous form in their warmth, your eyes blinked open and spotted the few who’d gotten the privilege to go first and how they’d at some time grown hard once again and were now pumping their cocks in their fists, with all of their greedy gazes glued on you.

The seven miners always warned you to be careful while they were off at work and you were all alone in the secluded cottage. Even though it was located in the middle of the woods, they still advised you not to open the door for anyone, not even if their looks deceived you.

You should have heeded those warnings the day when an old hag knocked at the cabin door, because she didn’t turn out to be just a sweet old lady as you had thought when you first spotted her through the window, dark cloak drawn up over her grey hair as she clutched onto a heavy basket of apples in one arm and thumped her free fist against the front door.

All she’d asked for had been a sip of water, one your kindness couldn’t deny her of.

Though your gravest mistake came when you accepted her seemingly kind offer of gratitude in the form of one of her apples, because when you sank your teeth into the crisp red fruit, the produce suddenly turned rotten in your grasp, granting you a brief glance of the truth, of the potent poison it withheld, before the effects took ahold and cast you into an eternal slumber.

The enchanted sleep however wasn’t like the one you’d heard tales about as it in truth only shut down your body as the rest of your senses still stayed awake, alert and aware as ever to the things around you, though forever helpless to whatever could occur.

When your dear miners returned that day, the sight that found them utterly broke them all.

And when they discovered that you’d received a fate worse than death, a few of them had to lean on superstition in order to cope.

Though superstition was what superstition often is, just a fairytale.

No matter how many of them attempted to press their lips to yours, you stayed asleep as true love’s kiss turned out to be no more than a bedtime story.

That’s how you ended up in a blossoming glen, not far from the cottage that had grown to become your home, encased in a glass coffin.

But that’s also how he found you again…

Prince Billy had been on a hunting trip the day he stumbled over the clearing you rested in, his deepest desires he’d assumed forever lost, so perfectly on display for him in the middle of the woods and with no one to stop him from taking you with him back to his castle. You had been his fiancé after all, so if your fate as his wife included you being a little less of an active participant than you’d been previously, then so be it. He could be content with you as nothing but a living doll… in fact, perhaps the royal even preferred it…

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solarmorrigan · 1 year ago

Text

“Hey.”

Eddie looks up from the inventory sheet he’s bent over (the new shipment of records isn’t going to record itself – Christ, that was awful, Henderson is contagious) to see his coworker Kyle poking his head into the back room.

“Someone left something for you at the counter.”

“Who?” Eddie asks, brows furrowed.

Most everyone in town seems to have let the murder accusations drop (embarrassed enough by their own fanatical reactions that they’d much rather forget the whole thing), but a few people still treat him like a felon walking free; it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

“Uh, real normie-looking guy. Gives you a ride sometimes.”

Eddie blinks. “Steve?”

“Yeah, sure.” Kyle shrugs. “Says you left it in his car.”

Whatever Eddie is expecting to see when he follows Kyle back out to the front counter of the music shop, a brown bag lunch isn’t it. He most certainly hadn’t left that in Steve’s car this morning.

Steve hadn’t even given him a ride that morning.

But it’s got his name on it, sure enough, in Steve’s weirdly neat handwriting. The asshole even drew a little heart next to it.

Eddie can already feel a smile pulling across his face as he snatches up the bag. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten his lunch in Steve’s car, but he certainly hadn’t brought one in with him. He’d been planning to hit up the McDonald’s down the street if he got desperate, but whatever Steve’s brought him is bound to be better.

“Your girlfriend pack that for you?” Kyle asks.

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh, for a minute not quite sure how to answer.

Gender assumptions aside, Eddie doesn’t know what to call this thing with Steve – this thing where they’d started screwing and then they’d started falling asleep together without screwing and then they’d started spending all their free time together and now Steve does things like pack Eddie lunch and bring it to him at work.

“Sorta,” he finally settles on.

“Dude, if she’s making you lunch and writing little hearts next to your name, she’s more than ‘sorta’ your girlfriend,” Kyle says.

“Yeah… Maybe,” Eddie allows, because – well, because maybe.

“Pretty nice of your friend to drive it over, though,” Kyle says. “Pretty sure at least half of my friends would’ve just eaten it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, warm and a little smug, “Steve’s a good dude.”

He digs into the lunch sack and finds an apple sitting on top (of course), a baggie of Keebler fudge cookies (score), and a Tupperware container filled with–

“Oh, fuck yes!” Eddie hugs the precious little tub full of macaroni and cheese to his chest like he’s doing his best Gollum impression. There is nothing in the world better than Steve’s mac and cheese.

It’s still warm.

“I’m taking my break!” Eddie declares, skittering off to the back room before Kyle can argue.

He sits himself down in the employee break area (a crappy folding table, two mismatched chairs, and a microwave so old he’s probably getting radiation poisoning just by sitting next to it) and digs in to the cheesy goodness that is Steve’s cooking.

He’ll eat the apple after, he reasons.

(No he won’t.)

As he eats, his eyes drift back to the crumpled brown bag, to the little heart drawn in bleeding black sharpie, and he thinks.

Steve’s house smells like chicken and herbs when Eddie lets himself in early in the evening, and oh, Steve must be in a good mood today.

Eddie feels spoiled.

He finds Steve in the kitchen, wrist-deep in sudsy water as he sways back and forth absently to the tune of the rock station coming from the radio on the windowsill. The room is warm, and something delicious-smelling in a covered pan is simmering on the stove, and the space behind Steve is invitingly empty, just waiting for Eddie to sidle up into it.

Eddie feels so, so spoiled.

Steve doesn’t startle when Eddie slides in behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, but Eddie isn’t really surprised anymore; it seems like Steve can always tell when someone is there.

He does glance over his shoulder, though, just long enough for Eddie to see the smile on his face before he turns back to the dishes. “Hi.”

Eddie’s pretty sure the smile on his own face is softer and infinitely more besotted. “Hi.”

“Good day at work?” Steve asks.

Eddie hums, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s shoulder. “You brought me lunch.”

“I’m glad Kyle actually gave it to you,” Steve says. “Wasn’t sure someone else wouldn’t eat it.”

“I got it,” Eddie says, as if there was any doubt with the way he’s still smiling in between trailing little kisses up Steve’s neck.

Steve shuts the water off and dries his hands on the towel hanging off the cupboard door before turning in Eddie’s arms to give him a proper kiss. “It was good?”

Eddie hums again. “You brought me lunch.”

“We’ve established that, yeah,” Steve laughs, allowing Eddie another kiss as he grins.

“You made me lunch,” Eddie says, pecking another kiss to Steve’s lips, still smiling like an idiot. “And you drove it up to the store for me.”

Steve shrugs, a little coy. “It’s my day off. I had time to kill.”

“Kyle says that makes you more than sorta my girlfriend,” Eddie replies, as if that will make any sense at all to Steve.

Whether it makes sense or not, it does make him laugh, and Eddie peppers kisses all over his face while he does.

“So it was good?” Steve asks again, when he’s caught his breath.

“You made me lunch and then you drove it over to me,” Eddie stresses. “It could’ve tasted like ass, and it still would’ve been the best thing ever.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but is more than obliging to the deep kiss Eddie pulls him into after that.

“But just so we’re clear,” Steve says when they break apart, “it didn’t taste like ass, right?”

“Oh my god, no,” Eddie finally relents. “It was literally the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I’m going to marry you so you can make that mac and cheese for me every day.”

“Every day, huh?” There’s a funny little smile climbing back over Steve’s face. “You sure you won’t get sick of it?”

“Nah,” Eddie replies confidently. “Never.”

They’re both smiling a little too much now to really kiss, but they make a good go of it anyway.

[Prompt: Smiling between kisses]

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote

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gildedoak · 2 months ago

Text

SEASON 1 FINALE, PART 1: Southern Comfort Food, Episode 13 - Apple Tartlets

>>PART TWO

(content warnings: hospitals, vomit)

An anonymous gift box arrived at the hotel...

SOUTHERN COMFORT FOOD SERIES Chicken and Waffles Sweet Tea Peach Cobbler Hushpuppies Crab/Crawfish Boil Gumbo (plus character notes!) Beignets (part 2) Shrimp and Grits Cornbread Biscuits and Gravy Pecan Pie/Sugar Pie Fried Catfish Apple Tartlets, Part 2

Description under the cut!

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: colored Hazbin Hotel comic

Panel 1: An arrangement of medical computer and lab equipment sits on a desk in the dark, but light emanates from the computer monitor. In the foreground, bathed in heavy shadow, is a slightly crushed bakery box, addressed to "Charlie Morningstar." A note on top reads, "Congratulations on the new program!" On the computer screen are various medical readings, along with an image of a small pie, with multiple warning icons around it. There are four vials of golden blood off to the side of the desk, and some kind of medical specimen scanning box with the small pie inside.

Panel 2: Lucifer blinks awake, wearing a blue hospital gown and bandages wrapped around his neck. There's a damp washcloth on his forehead. The bags under his eyes are more prominent, and he looks haggard and sick. Alastor (offscreen): You're finally awake. Charlie will be happy to hear it.

Panel 3: Lucifer looks over to see Alastor sitting next to the bed, aggressively wringing out another wet washcloth and looking irritated. Lucifer: Charlie... she's...? Alastor: She's safe, thanks to you. HOWEVER - she is fully prepared to give you a lengthy, HARSHLY WORDED lecture.

Panel 4: Alastor's neck snaps as he turns his head around, already shifting into his demonic form. Alastor: AND THAT'S ONLY IF I DON'T THROTTLE YOU *FIRST.* Lucifer (offscreen): But - !!

Panel 5: Alastor grows larger to the point where his face fills the panel, as he glares down at a tiny Lucifer, who looks terrified. Alastor: Six days. SIX DAYS you've been delirious with a raging fever and I swore that if the poison didn't kill you - I'D DO IT MYSELF.

Panel 6: Wide panel of Alastor in full demon form, towering over Lucifer lying in a hospital bed with an IV. Alastor: Because when Queen Belphegor told us those apple tartlets actually had *COMMUNION WAFERS* baked in the crust - I promised our daughter that I would turn you into a *FEATHER DUSTER* for being so reckless!!

Panel 7: Panel from Alastor's POV, Lucifer looking up at him, the washcloth having fallen to the side of the pillow. Alastor's hand curls around him, as if to maybe strangle him, but his hand is shaking, and Lucifer just holds his palm. Alastor (offscreen): NEXT TIME, DON'T -

Panel 8: Grayscale flashback to Lucifer vomiting up golden blood, clutching at the front of his shirt.

Panel 9: Grayscale flashback of Alastor carrying Lucifer in his arms - neither of their faces are visible. Indiscernible cries of alarm coming from the other residents. Lucifer's head lolls back as he starts to convulse, golden blood on his hands, his face, and the front of his shirt which has been unbuttoned along with his vest and bowtie.

Panel 10: Now back to his normal size, though his antlers are still prominent, Alastor hugs Lucifer to him, burying his face in his shoulder. Lucifer hugs back. Alastor: Just don't.

END DESCRIPTION]

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nouearth · 10 months ago

Text

double-stuffed.

peter parker x male reader x jaime reyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he was selfish. He needed more of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was indeed something way worse than having blue balls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm.”

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

It was all his fault—Peter’s.

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

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

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

He was furiously jealous.

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

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

For Jaime.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter, who Jaime could never be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That he actually found Peter attractive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They loved sexually tormenting you.

“Wait. Guys, I was just kidding—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You breathed.

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

You trusted them.

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

And you let Peter in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To new beginnings.”

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

“To new beginnings...”

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

#peter parker x reader #jaime reyes x reader #peter parker x male reader #jaime reyes x male reader #peter parker x you #jaime reyes x you #nou.fics

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violenteconomics · 5 months ago

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twst first-years that get sucked into a television, and are forced to re-enact all of the seven disney movies that nrc is built upon (“the little mermaid”, “the lion king”, “snow white”, etc. and i’m talking about the animated features, btw.)

deuce and yuu star as the main couple (aladdin/jasmine, eric/ariel, simba/nala, etc.), but both can be, and are, interchangeably swapped with ace, depending on what kind of couple they’re playing, because i can accept deuce or yuu as hercules, but i can’t accept either of them as megara.

yuu always takes priority as the protagonist, though, so sorry adeuce, no alice for you.

ortho is the loveable animal sidekick — such as flounder from “the little mermaid”, abu from “aladdin”, pegasus from “hercules”, et cetera. his form also conveniently alters depending on what he’s supposed to be in any given movie, such as sprouting metallic wings in his appearance as pegasus.

(fyi, in “the lion king”, ortho plays both pumbaa AND timon. in “alice in wonderland”, he plays the infamous dormouse. he makes no appearances in “snow white and the seven dwarfs” or “sleeping beauty”, unfortunately, except for some inexplicable cameos as the birds.)

jack plays the wise character in every movie. characters like mufasa, alice’s older sister, sebastian, etc. he doesn’t get a whole lot of appearances, but honestly, it’s probably for the best considering the traumatic death he has to go through in at least one of those.

if there is magic to be had, you better believe epel will be there. he plays all kinds of magical people and items, like the genie from “aladdin”, the spinning wheel from “sleeping beauty”, and, infamously, the poison apple from “snow white and the seven dwarfs”. he acts as a person though, not an actual object. in this case, the “poison apple” and the “spinning wheel” would both be the aliases of famous assassins.

which leaves our loveable sebek zigvolt as the villain. like the main couple, though, he trades the role with ace, because let’s be honest, ace makes for a way better maleficient and ursula, lol. sebek gets pretty much every other role, though. sebek definitely has enough theater kid energy inside of him to pull off a convincing “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” methinks.

(i couldn’t find a clean place to put this in, but sebek and deuce also trade roles as the villainous sidekicks, like diabolo, flotsam and jetsam, iago, etc.)

bonus points if they have to re-enact other disney movies, too, like “cinderella”, “robin hood”, or “beauty and the beast”.

BONUS bonus points if the upperclassmen have to watch all of this unfold in a 48-hour-long marathon with meal breaks and sleep breaks in between, lol.

#twisted wonderland #twst first years #twst #jack howl #sebek zigvolt #deuce spade #ace trappola #ortho shroud #epel felmier #twst yuu #disney movies #aceyuu #deuceyuu #adeuyuu #adeuce #(kinda)

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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hi!!! ugh ive been rewatching criminal minds and i have such a bad spencer reid addiction

can i request something where y/n and spencer are both a little oblivious. they both like each other and have been on dates and are very close at work, but spencer just kind of assumed they were dating, but y/n didnt know because he never officially asked her to be his girlfriend?

Thank you soso much! im so in love with your wtiting

You and Spencer have very different responses to Penelope's giddy, "You guys are such a cute couple."

Spencer blushes, and ducks his head towards his desk with a smile on his face. He's mortified at the attention on him, but he relishes the compliment all the same. Your face heats up equally warm, but Spencer's thaws immediately when you grumble, "Penny, stop. We're not a couple."

You're not?

Spencer's head is no longer hung towards the desk, instead it's pointed at you with wide eyes and caution flickering in his irises.

"We aren't?"

Your brow furrows, and Penelope's smile begins fading. She lingers, but quickly feels the need to make herself scarce, and scurries away when you double down.

"When did we get together?"

Spencer flounders, his expression only growing more wounded, "We- I've been taking you out for weeks."

"Well- yeah," You stammer, "But- but that doesn't mean-! We're not together, Spence. You haven't asked me."

"I ask you on dates all the time." His voice is empty, clueless and dumbfounded, "We- isn't that dating?"

"We go on dates, but that doesn't mean we're dating!" You insist, years of nitpicky high school etiquette coming in handy, "You have to ask me, Spencer, you have to ask me to be your girlfriend."

"Oh." Spencer's shoulders slump slightly, and you realize with a start that he's contemplating asking.

"Do you want to be together?" You ask him incredulously, suddenly unsure of the dates you'd gone on with him in the past. Apparently they weren't satisfactory if he's not Every happy memory lodges itself like a poison dart into your rapidly beating heart, and you're confused when he nods vigorously.

"Okay. So~," You prompt, leaning towards him in your chair, "Are you going to- y'know, ask me?"

"Are you gonna say yes?" He asks, and though the question is unbearably stupid, the tone in which he asks it is soft and scared and endearing.

"Of course I'm gonna say yes!" You huff, "Spencer, I- I really like you."

"I really like you, too." The furrow in his brow smooths as the last thread of fear cinching it is snipped, and then his pretty pink lips part to finally ask, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," You gush, and you'd be embarrassed at how fast you shot from your chair to hug him if he hadn't done the same. The kiss you share is an awkward chaste one, because neither of you have forgotten that you're on duty in a government building, but Spencer's hands wrap tightly around your waist, and you sling yours over his lithe shoulders to crush him in a hug.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you sooner," He breathes, his voice barely audible even as he speaks against your ear, "I didn't know I was supposed to. I've never done this before."

"It's okay," You assure him, hiding your giddy grin in the knit of his sweater vest, "I'm sorry I scared you when I said we weren't. I just figured you weren't sure yet."

He draws back to thumb at the apple of your cheek, a lock of his hair dangling in front of his face from where it slipped from behind his ear.

"I'm sure," He vows, eyes boring into yours with a sincere sparkle, "And you're-? I mean, you're totally sure?"

"Totally," You let out a gushy laugh, "I'm glad you're my boyfriend, Spencer."

"Me too," He agrees, with a smile on his face that clocks in just short of disbelief, "And-! And I mean, I'm glad you're my girlfriend."

You're not permitted more than three seconds of the sentimental atmosphere you've created around you when Rossi decides you're distracting the rest of the team.

"Alright, lovebirds, this is wonderful for you, but I'm sure Hotch doesn't want you heavy petting on government time."

You flush and Spencer does the same, breaking away from you reluctantly as you grumble about government positions needing age caps. Rossi pays no mind to your insults, though, because Hotch's voice steals his attention, threaded with a spark of amusement.

"Oh, soften up, Dave." He calls from where he'd been obscured from view at the far end of the kitchenette, "I know you're three divorces bitter, but the rest of us are happy for them."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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moonstruckme · 2 months ago

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apple pie - send a character + a prompt off this list and I’ll write a drabble

hi mae!! congrats on 7k you're amazing! the new pfp is also very pretty. so, can I please get ⁴⁾ red-painted nails with james? thank you very much!

Thanks lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 450 words

You’ve observed that while your boyfriend has many talents, James is not good at slow-going, punctilious tasks. He can’t sit still.

“I can too!” he insists when you share this with him. “You can’t sit still.”

James is sitting with the wrist of your hand grasped in one of his, the other wielding the brush of your nail polish between two fingers. He’s concentrating so hard that his tongue is peeking out from the corner of his mouth, and yet thus far he’s managed to paint most of your fingertip a bright red.

“It helps if my hand is resting on something steady,” you offer.

“Are you saying I don’t have a steady grip?”

“No. Of course not.” You suppress a smile. James tries to start on your next finger, and it naturally dips under the weight of the brush.

“Angel, could you stay still?”

“I’m trying!” you laugh. He tries to give you a vexed look, co-opted from his moodier friends (James is not truly prone to vexation), but his lips betray him by twitching.

“You’re intentionally sabotaging me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“So that when you show up to the match tomorrow, you’ll have one nice hand and one shit hand, and everyone will know who did which.”

You roll your eyes, grinning. You painted the nails on your left hand to show James how it’s done. Admittedly, it does look far neater than the mayhem he’s inflicting upon your right.

“It’s normal for one hand to look better than the other,” you tell him. “Anyway, it still counts as Gryffindor spirit whether it’s messy or not, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” James mumbles. “You’ll wave at me with this hand, right?”

“If you want me to.”

“Good.” He kisses the tip of one of your fingers that’s dried. You wince. You feel like that much polish could be poisonous. “You know, I actually don’t care if people know I did this one. It shows that you trusted me enough to do it, yeah?”

“Wrongly, it seems.”

“So sweet.” James pretends as though he hasn’t heard you, pecking you on the lips. “Honestly, if I get it all over your whole hand, that’ll probably be even better luck for the team. More red to cheer us on.”

You eye his hand holding the brush. “You won’t, though, right? Like, that’s not the goal.”

“I’ll try not to. But you won’t wipe it off, will you, sweetheart? You’ll leave it the way it is?”

“I…sometimes when I wash my hands, bits come off…”

“Then just don’t wash your hands.” At your incredulous look, James clarifies, “Only until after the match. Please?”

You sigh. “All right.”

He kisses you again. “Attagirl.”

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m0chis-cafe · 1 month ago

Text

how i think pomefiore dorm members would kiss you.. ⋆⑅˚₊

word count; 1.1k

warnings; slight spoilers for their dorm chapter in vils part

characters: Vil and Epel

(i apologize to people who like rook, but i just dont really enjoy his character a bunch, nor pay attention well enough when he is in stories to write for him, no judgment to those who do. sorry again)

vil schoenheit🧺

-is an absolute diva..

-his lips are so soft it's not even funny. especially because of all the damn lip scrubs and moisturizers he uses

-has never had chapped lips a day in his lip

-wouldn't let you kiss him on the lips or anywhere he has makeup on in public

-also very lowkey with you two to the public, he is a public figure after

-if he lets you kiss in public its just small hand kisses, or to the cheek

-in private though.. absolutely loves you to kiss his lipstick off..

-or if you helped him take off his makeup, would melt if you gave him kisses during it

-he often kisses the inside of your wrist, palm, back of your hand, a lot of your hands

-but hell also go for you forehead a lot because this man is so damn tall

-OMG actually kissing him.. magical. deadass magical

-he will not allow for anything but perfection and is super passionate about it

-every kiss feels like the first because he's so damn dramatic about it, but it's so breathtaking

-comes to you for a kiss whenever rook and epel are pissing him off and not being up to pomefiore dorm standards

-don't get me started on the literal hungry kisses he's about to give you after being pissed about losing the song and dance battle, this man was the most pissed you've ever seen him..

-but.. he could also be gentle, a majority of his energy is used on being the head of his dorm, so when he flops onto his giant-ass comfortable bed after doing all of his skincare and your just there to treat him like a normal human.. it's a pure breath of fresh air..

You awaited for Vil to return from orientation with the new freshman coming into pomefiore. Hes already so exhausted by normal day to day duties, unproperly deducted children that didn't know how to act around him yet would surely leave him in a sour mood.

as you sat in thought on his bed, the door suddenly slammed open dn closed within the same second. a very exhausted and for once slightly disheveled vil leaned his back against the door to his dorm room. two strands of hair were loose from his normal braids and sticking up from his crown that was oh so slightly angled in the wrong way that would normally send him into a spiral. his robes had.. wrickles? gods what did they do to him..

"vil? are you alright sweetheart..? you asked gently, raising from his bed to stand before him, taking his hands in yours, "I take it the freshman are a handful this year?"

he looked down at you with tired eye, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. his torso folded to your height as he wrapped his arms around your waist, sighing into your shoulder.

"those.. children.. dont know how to behave. how they got into pomefiore in the first place is beyond me, and of course, rook has already taken interest in a particular little poison apple that seems to have an energy about him that guarantees trouble. they don't know how to act, they don't treat me as the royalty I am.. they-" he rambled on into your shoulder, mumbling small curses between subject matters.

you took his face between your hands and looked into his eyes, "vil, its ok. they don't know any better yet. give them time.." you spook gently, being used to his almost instant rants as soon as he was in the privacy of his dorm room.

as he sighed and leaned into your hand, placing kisses onto your palm, he finally smiled, "your right my love.. your always right, you always know how to calm me" he regained his composure and stood, sweeping you into his arms as he carried you to his desk, setting you into his lap "would you help me remove my makeup, id like to hear about your day now poison.."

(posion,, cause the apples. u guys love me)

Epel Felmier🍎

-country bumpkin..

-IM KIDDING, I LOVE HIM.. and i am one too its ok sweetie

-his lips are a fun mix of soft and chapped, depending on if he feels like defying vil that week or not..

-also depends on what kind of a mood the other first years put him in

-actually though is so sweet to you despite being so angry towards most others with his real personality

-when hes being very sweet and calm like vil wants him to be, you make fun of him afterwards, much more so preferring his real personality

-vil hates and loves you guys together

-you keep him present and encourage him to go to pomefiore events and such, but also encourage him to act out sometimes.. which vil hates and rook finds really interesting

-would go into anaphylactic shook if you kissed him in front of anyone, especially the other 1st years

-hes too manly to be soft for you.. until yall are alone

-is actually a big baby when yall are alone

-kissing your cheeks, hand, and nose often

-he was taught by his southern family, very classy back-of-your-hand kisses

-absolutely takes you back to his hometown and gets harassed by his family if he's 'treating you right'

when epel took you and a couple of your classmates to his hometown for a festive this isn't what you were expecting.. it seemed like a year-round pumpkin patch and fall-themed village. you held onto his hand like a lifeline as the others ran around and looked at everything there was to offer while you were terrified to meet his family for the first time in person..

"is there a reason your trying to stop the blood flow from my hand, crimson?" he questioned quietly so the others didn't hear, looking concerned as you released his hand immediately and shaking it out.

"yes.. yea- yea for sure. im good." you rambled in a slight panic. everyone else seemed so calm and excited to be here, but it was just nerves, "do you.. do you think your families gonna like me?" you asked quickly.

"what?" his head snapped towards you, his bangs covering his eyes for a second as his southern accent slipped through, being home and with you made him more comfortable it being normal as he questioned you, "like you? crimson they're gonna love you more than they love me" he reassured, picking up your hand again and placing a gentle kiss to the back of it. tugging you closed to leave a small peck on your lips once he made sure no one else was looking. he held his lips at your hand mumbling while looking into your eyes, "your perfect.."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #epel felmier #epel x reader #epel felmier x reader #mochiscafe<3

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ma1dita · 8 months ago

Text

to catch a thief

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.7k

summary: (post-TLT, sea of monsters compliant/spoilers) The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. Your reunion with Luke is nothing you both could have ever expected. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: we’re so back trouble!verse ;) sorry for the post birthday hiatus on this, hope you like it! crack banter but err... she got a lil angsty

(posted 3/22/24, semi-edited)

—

When you wake up to the gentle rolling of the sea, it feels like a comforting embrace in a distant dream. Tangled within pristine white sheets, you could smell the salt through the small opening in the bay window–though this was a far cry from a fairytale conjured by your mind.

This was your reality.

You wouldn’t call it a nightmare per se, but the circumstances were definitely less than preferred.

This is not the CSS Birmingham. No, that went up in flames. Retracing your steps to what led you to this—cushy cruise line of a prison, you reckon it’s been a few days now since you’ve become a stowaway, or a hostage. You haven’t quite decided yet.

Gods, this is what you get for passing up on that summer research internship.

Dropping off Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson at camp was supposed to be a fun walk down memory lane—until meeting with your dad, finding out Thalia’s tree had been poisoned, watching Chiron get fired, and essentially getting kicked out by the troll of a man who originally got sent to the Fields of Punishment for marketing the taste of human flesh made you remember that nothing at camp is the way it used to be.

Not like before, when you and Luke used to run it.

Your dad told you to go home and wait till you were needed. Home. Driving away from it this time around was harder than you thought it would be. You’d never been the patient type, and to drop everything just because a god told you to?

Hilarious, really.

But almost a week later, after rejoining your friends on an undead ship that you let the kids commandeer, your vital mistake was thinking that Clarisse’s quest would be a breeze. Rookie move, since the last one you were on left you almost as scarred as Luke was. Even thinking of him now, you run your thumb over the rough patch of skin on your palm.

At the very least you hoped Tyson was okay. The last memory you have of the young Cyclops was watching him from your place on the ladder as he stopped the engines from overheating. Maybe it was the ex-head counselor in you, or your increased threshold to pain, but there was no way in hell you were leaving that kid behind.

The sound of voices from outside your door gets louder now, your throat feeling like you’ve been swallowing wads of cotton and a persistent ringing in your ear that hurts just as bad as when you watch Chris Rodriguez walk in with a plate of food. The last one he slid through the door bumps against his boot, still uneaten and he sighs.

“So what, you’re on a hunger strike now? I forgot how difficult you could be.”

You bark out a laugh. Thankfully it’s loud enough that it almost conceals the rumble of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you mumble, “Wish it could be an idiot strike. I forgot how much of a bitch you are when it comes to your brother, Rodriguez. How long are you going to keep me here? It’s been days.”

Your former friend rolls his eyes at your dramatics like he doesn’t hold the key to your freedom.

“Three since you woke up, actually. Come on, you’ve gotta eat, or I’ll get my ass kicked,” he grumbles. You raise an eyebrow at that, walking towards the window to dodge the uncomfortable tension that fills the room. He plucks an apple slice off your plate.

“He couldn’t splurge on a balcony view? Monsters aside, it’s not like you’ve reached full occupancy.”

“There are more mortals here than you think. To be honest, he was worried you would find a way to overthrow us,” the tanned boy admits, placing the tray on the dresser. It was always a wonder to him how you and Luke were more alike than you think, even now—even when Luke hasn’t come to see you. Talking to you reminded him that you’re both pains in his ass, and Chris was still unsure of who to be more wary of, but he’s been in charge of watching you for the most part.

“Well tell your stupid captain he has no right to be worried about me. I’d much rather try to jump if given the opportunity.”

There’s no response, so you turn to face Chris who’s eating a croissant with a bashful grin.

“Seriously dude?”

“Listen, I’m hoping if I think of the right words to say, he’ll come in and deal with you himself. Opposite sides of a war and you’re still both giving me a headache. Just like old times,” he chuckles, flakes of pastry dotting across his chest plate. Your mouth quirks into a bitter smile. Old times, when Luke would shove you if he couldn’t think of a reply fast enough. When you’d punch him to get your point across if he wasn’t listening. How a kiss could end any waging war between the both of you.

You swallow, turning slowly to watch your reflection in the glass of the windowpane.

Why hasn't he come to see you? The first day, you remember spending out on the sea—treading water with no land in sight, calling out to your friends until your voice went hoarse, but you didn’t cry. You know better than to show weakness now, even when no one’s around. Chris tells you over a gulp of orange juice that you washed up next to the Princess Andromeda on the second day like it was fate. Though fate was never truly that kind to anyone; it felt like it was laughing in your face. Knocked out cold for two days after, and ignoring all of Chris’s attempts to keep you alive in the days that followed, you’ve been in this room ever since. You barely notice Chris’s departure.

Entering the ensuite bathroom, you splash your face and sip on water from the tap before stopping at the doorway. A shadow flits at the seam near your feet, someone standing just out of sight when you peer through the peephole.

But you know Luke’s there. Sons of Hermes have almost undetectable footsteps, however, Luke walking in and out of your life for as long as he has—there’s no inconceivable way to not know him. Perhaps you couldn’t hear the sound of his feet, but there’s a way the wind shifts your hair, your heart slowing in ease at his presence, and the scent of him reminiscent of skin kissed with the peel of an orange. The skin you used to kiss and greet and know like your own.

The shadow fades just as your hand reaches out towards it, leaving like he always does. Always out of reach.

Even as the Princess Andromeda continues to set sail upon the calm waters of the Atlantic Coast, you look out to the unending horizon and still feel like you’re drowning.

—

“Status report, soldier?”

Chris rolls his eyes, popping the last piece of apple into his mouth as he strolls into the command deck. The both of you had a flair for the dramatic—it serves as his reminder of why you two worked so well. Luke is sitting in his captain’s seat, watching the waves crash against the hull as the sun begins to set on the skyline.

“She’s angry. Anyone would be if they were locked up like that.”

“Well, yeah, but tell me something I don’t know. Something useful, Rodriguez,” Luke says, flicking his pocket knife closed. It’s still sticky with the juice of the fruit, catching onto his finger. He hisses, but then the sound of loud footsteps boom down the corridor, along with the sound of maniacal laughter as the door slams open. The two sons of Hermes look at each other curiously, knowing it all too well.

“You know, the next time you send a 9-year-old to stand guard, remember to not make it the one we used to throw into the lake,” you drawl, sauntering into the bridge and looking around until your eyes land on your ex, “and also remember that you taught me how to pick locks.”

Ethan Nakamura heaves behind you, hands on his knees before he stands to attention and salutes his captain.

“Sir, I was just following orders… and I’m not 9 anymore!” he snaps, glaring at you. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation makes it easier to get through. You thought being surrounded by the undead on the CSS Birmingham was scary enough, but standing in a room with ghosts from your past was somehow worse. Honestly, you learned a lot more by being in that room than if you were to jump ship like you wanted to.

“I taught you how to tie your shoes, Ethan. You’re always gonna be a little kid to me,” you scoff, brushing him aside and walking towards Luke, “your new digs are fancy, by the way. I could tell by all the teenage soldiers chasing me through the tourists.”

He stands up and meets you head to head, as the both of you inspect each other closely.

It’s been a long year without you.

You look thinner. You’ve lost the softness in your cheeks and your eyes are tired. He wonders what you chose to major in, who your roommates are, if you still think of him with a smile on your face. You’re still beautiful.

“You know me, I like to travel in style,” Luke says offhandedly, a half smile on his face. For someone leading a war against the gods, he’s calm in your presence.

“Back when I knew you, we traveled in a tin can that we also called a car.”

His clothes are nicer than anything you’ve ever seen him in. He looks really fucking good, for someone on the run. It’s almost frustrating to see how brawny he’s gotten, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms. You suppose he has nothing to do now but practice and spar (that or he’s definitely flexing for you). Pulling at the drawstring of the joggers you wear, you realize his initials are embroidered on the pocket. Pretentious fuck. Did he change you once you got on board?

Chris and Ethan suddenly get the feeling that they’re interrupting something—a reunion in a blockbuster romantic movie they’ve seen the mortals play out on the ship deck’s projector on Friday nights. The two of you stand there arguing like a married couple despite the fact you are no longer lovers and the bickering continues even when more of Kronos’ army files in. You laugh again at the sight of children walking in—some strangers, others you’ve sung to sleep in cabin 11, all still children, even back from the time before when laughter didn’t have to have a reason, light and airy in the summer sun.

“You’re sick, you know that? Did you just plan to let me rot in that room until it was all over? You didn’t even talk to m—”

“Classic, you’re more mad that I didn’t talk to you over the fact that you’re a prisoner,” he seethes, but you don’t stand down—not now or ever.

“Prisoner? I walked out and none of your Boy Scouts could do anything about it!”

His face is turning red now, jaw tightening at the angst but deep down he misses this—the banter, the thin line between hate and love you both tread on. You may be a damsel. But you were not in distress.

To further prove your point, you swing an arm toward one of the boys in black (their uniforms were annoyingly corny), and they all take a step back toward the wall. Your eyebrows furrow, “What type of prison has guards terrified of the prisoner?”

He shrugs, “It was only time before you came and found me. I even gave you a bay window.”

That was not the right thing to say.

“I’ll fucking kill yo—”

“Sir? So do we try and detain her, or….” one of the demigods you don’t know interjects, and Chris Rodriguez sucks at his teeth before he responds.

“Alright. We’ve seen enough of the show. Everyone file out and let Castellan reunite with his girlfriend.”

“GIRLFRIEND?”

“Girlfriend…”

The both of you look at each other, one in anger, the other in sheepishness now that you’re alone. It's even funnier that neither of you deny it.

“You left me there in that room, and by the sight of things around here you prefer being in the company of monsters than being with me, so by the gods, what do you want, Castellan?”

You fall into the captain’s chair exasperatedly, watching him watch you.

“I’m giving you a choice,” he says simply. “You can stay here with me, or you can go.”

“A choice? You captured me to tell me I have a choice,” you spit, as if that was the stupidest thing he could say. “You didn’t give me a choice when you left me.”

“It was a matter of the circumstances. And I didn't capture you—are you mad that I betrayed everyone or not, because I can’t really read you right now, Trouble…”

Your eye twitches and your hands are in fists across your lap. Another wrong thing to say.

“Keeping me here until I get the nerve to talk to you is not a choice, asshole. Do you think you could just hide me away until the bad part’s over? To save me until everything's good enough for you?” Your eyes catch onto the droplets of blood that fall onto the hardwood flooring near your feet. His hand is bleeding, and like it’s nothing of the sort you reach out for it.

Luke thinks that if he lets you your hand will still perfectly fit in his, so after a moment, he pulls his hand away out of your reach. Pulling a handkerchief out of your pocket (also embroidered with his initials—note to self, never let a son of Hermes have money), you stand to wrap it around his hand to stop the bleeding. You pretend not to notice his heartbeat increase through the throbbing of the cloth.

“Don’t let my actions make you believe that what we had wasn’t good, Trouble.”

“Stop calling me that. Why are they all scared of me? Why won’t you let me touch you?” you whisper, putting pressure on his finger until the blood clots. It doesn’t even hurt, to tell you the truth. Not touching you when you’re right here in front of him is a pain he can’t find the words to describe. But what he’ll never understand is that he’s right. You two were good together. You’d have him through the bad too, if only he let you.

“Because you might think you can fix me.” Or worse, you might change his mind. You don't have to say you love him for him to know it. A part of him wishes he didn’t have to do all of this to prove to you he feels the same.

“Would you have left with me?” he mutters. A wistful look cuts through your anger and he knows he’s finally said something right. His pocket knife is on the control board and your hands drop to your side again when you realize that he may have forgotten to tell his battalion of who you are to him, but he still remembers how you like your apples cut. The silence is loud, even with the twinge that comes with the pain in your eardrum as you sway a little on your feet. Your body still knows it can relax with him, knees buckling with a false sense of security despite your willpower.

“I would've made it so that there was no other option for you but to want to stay.”

A soldier bursts through the door and apologizes for the intrusion, but the both of you have found out all you need to know. The moment is over and Percy Jackson has been captured by the army in his efforts of trying to save the day. There’s a look shared between the two of you that wonders if this will become a trend.

—

Licking your lips as your… Luke guides you out onto the main deck with your hands behind your back, you can taste the salt in your air. It’s almost as evident as the surprise in your friends’ faces when they see you alive. This time, they don’t question your allegiance but in the chaos that ensues, for a moment, you do.

For a moment, you wonder what would change if you decided to stay with him. Would the sky fall under your feet? Would the gods kneel like Luke said they would? Looking at him in your periphery, you realize it’s not what the both of you want, even if it’s the easier way out—to be together despite it all.

The two of you against the world instead of the world against the both of you.

But he won't even touch you—he’s holding you over the sleeves of your shirt, too scared of what you’ve become in his absence. You suppose you’re scared of what he’s become too.

The realization hits that you could defect from your friends, family, and home. You could undo everything that you and your friends have worked towards. But nothing he can say will change the fact that he didn’t choose you.

Luke was right, then.

You did have a choice, one that he still forces you to make as you nod at Percy to flip his last drachma into the open water, opening a direct line of communication to your father to catch the thief—of both lightning and the beat of your heart, in the act.

You realize that if the gods were the least bit grateful that you’ve kept their kids alive for the past half-decade, perhaps fate would be on your side and Luke would still be yours. But life has a funny way of working itself out when Luke admits to the open air of another crime to tack onto his list.

“Kronos was right. I should’ve killed you, Percy.”

The son of Poseidon goads Luke into another duel and you survey your surroundings for a way out. Annabeth burns holes into the side of your head and it gets you thinking, moving faster than you have in days as you walk towards her and Grover. At the raise of your hand, the demigods holding onto the pair drop to the deck, incapacitated with illusions of madness they will never comprehend. The more of them that surround you drop like flies as Luke’s eyes flicker between you and the boy he has at swordpoint.

You’ve gotten stronger in his absence—you never needed to touch him to use your powers after all. Just waiting for the right moment to strike, attacking when Luke finally let his guard down for you. He cracks his neck, knowing you’ve made your choice, so he makes his.

“Get them.”

The monster scrambles across the deck but it approaches you first, clawing at the wood and barely missing your feet as you scream for help, defenseless without a sword and you hear Luke yell your name in alarm before a punching glove-tipped arrow sends it hurtling overboard.

Your eyes lock with his again as you disembark with the Party Ponies, you with your crew as he corrals the mess you made of his. It has to be the salt air that makes your eyes seem a little misty.

Your fates have always been tied.

You protect your home, and he does what he can to protect you. Luke looks over your form like he’s checking if you’re okay, even from a distance— and it makes you wonder if this is how it's supposed to be. Someone leaving, and the both of you apart.

It’s weird to be the one leaving this time, but it isn't as easy as Luke makes it seem each time he does it.

You avert your eyes once you see him put his hand in his pocket, him finding what you snuck in on the way to the deck. Luke pulls out a leather bracelet with a black camp bead, the one he missed in the year he’s been gone. He rolls the bead between his fingers, the thing you last touched before leaving him, an emblem of his archnemesis and the summer that changed everything—the consequences of his actions ripping you away from him. When he slides it on his wrist, it lightly clinks against the hilt of his sword, the lone clay bead a force of its own against Backbiter's reverberating power. He feels nostalgia for what could have been crawling through him—though Luke supposes he’s always been too vulnerable when it comes to you.

Is this what you’ve been feeling every time he walks away?

It starts to rain after you leave. Luke watches his crew take cover from the downpour, running in all different directions to hide away from the storm that ravages the Princess Andromeda.

But he stands still, looking up at the sky and hating it for how openly it’s able to cry. Luke is far away from home again—from you and it makes him wonder how much longer he’ll have to be away from you when being with you is what he truly wants.

The mission continues and the ship keeps pushing forward even as the rain washes over him, soaking through his armor and straight to the bone. Raindrops pelt through every crevice, though this onslaught is much kinder, more gentle, even when it’s angry. He closes his eyes and lets it touch his skin.

For a moment, it feels like you.

—

A hand penetrates the tide searching for yours, gripping onto your unconscious one. He’s spent hours ripping holes through time to try to find you, an advantage given to him in a dream by the Titan. The agreement, what keeps him from not running back to you is that you live—and as Luke pulls you out of the ocean waterlogged and turning blue, he wonders if it’s all a farce.

Losing you isn’t worth the wrath of the gods if you’re lifeless in his arms like this.

He shouts your name, pumping your chest with his fists and breathing life back into your lips until you cough out saltwater, head lolling against his knee. Luke’s fingers stroke your hair, touching you for the first time in a year. As life slowly brings the color back into your cheeks he silently thanks Hestia for keeping your flame alight. His soldiers call out to him from the deck, and he steels his resolve as he rows the lifeboat back to the ship. Still, Luke has to uphold his side of the agreement.

He wonders if you’d stay. Even if he knows the answer, Luke wonders if you would ever change it for him.

—

And they tell me you are evil and I answer: Yes, I know. –Patricia Smith

½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

#luke castellan x reader #trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader

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