I follow back from my primary tumblr, @exsixtwosix.
18+. MDNI. Explicit Content.
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I write mostly about
Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel
TH's Peter Parker
Gojo from JJK
part 1: bucky falls in love with you slowly when he bumps into you at old stark tower; it takes the two of you a while to understand feelings are there
part 2: you flirt all weekend over texts
part 3: you finally fuck and make love on your first date
notes: bucky/afab!reader; they/them pronouns for reader; flirting; romance; he falls first
ao3 link
For someone you presumed to be the mysterious brooding type, he sure had the cutest little nickname. Bucky~. Every time you said it, you couldn’t help but grin.
Maybe this is what gave him the impression that you had a thing for him. Every “good morning, Bucky,” brought along with it your stunning smile, which made him look forward to the days you bumped into each other in the old Stark Tower.
He was one block away and saw the back of your head and your silhouette, and hoped the elevator was taking its time. Seeing you did things to his body he couldn’t fathom. Outside of combat, his tiny little interactions with you were the only thing that made him feel truly alive.
He rushed into the building. You turned around to clock who it was. “You’re in a hurry,” you noted, your smile charming him again.
“Important meeting,” he lied, standing next to you in his military at ease position, facing the closed doors.
“Thank you for taking your work so seriously,” you said.
He glanced at you, checking for your level of sincerity, and felt his heart skip a beat when he realized you really meant that.
You were such a cute sight together. You, in a pencil skirt and nice blouse, your feet in flats. Him, in his Avengers attire, highlighting the broadness of his back and strangeness of his cybernetic arm. He thought you didn’t belong in the same genre. You deserved a normal life. His therapist wouldn’t want him to think about whether or not he deserved anything.
“It feels weird you didn’t say good morning,” he prompted.
“Oh, my bad! Good morning, Bucky!” and there was your signature grin again.
How inappropriate would it have been, he wondered, if he just pulled you by your waist and whispered may I kiss you?
The elevator arrived. You signaled for him to step on first, which made him so uncomfortable. Old habits died hard and that just wasn’t how things were done when he was growing up. He stepped on the elevator first to appease you, holding his hand against the door to make sure it didn’t shut on you as you were walking in.
Chivalry was dead. Genders were made up. He was getting used to it.
The elevator climbed a few floors.
“Wait, you’re not going to say it back?” you asked him.
He leaned over a bit, to make up for the height difference and, really, because he wanted to be closer to you. “Good morning,” he said, his vision on the closed doors.
The elevator doors opened on the floor where you worked and he noticed you hesitated before you stepped off. You told him to have a nice day.
He took a chance and pressed the DOOR OPEN button and he was glad he did because you turned around in a few feet to see if he was still there and he got to see your face again.
You looked caught and sped away.
The next time he went to the tower, he was not too late to see you. He made it to the elevator before you. His heart beat roughly in his thick, muscular chest as he waited.
Unfortunately, a lot of other people arrived at the same time you did, creating a barrier that would have made it strange if one of you moved through the crowd to get to the other.
He considered it, but actually chickened out and missed out on your smile that morning.
The time after that, there was a crowd waiting for the elevator, again. He waited closer to the door into the building, his brows furrowed and his jaw muscles tensed.
When you walked inside, you said his favorite words. “Good morning, Bucky!” and his knees felt weak.
“Good morning.”
“Why are we standing all the way over here?” you asked, positioning yourself beside him.
“Too many people over there,” he nodded in the direction of the elevator.
The following time, you got into the building before him and instead of waiting with the crowd by the elevator, you waited by the front door to the building. “Good morning, Bucky!” you said, and he smiled so hard he had to pretend to have an itch on his face to cover it.
Last week, it was finally just the two of you.
He stepped near you, a little bit closer than usual, and looked at those familiar closed doors.
“Good morning, Bucky,” you said and smiled.
“Good morning.”
What was he supposed to do next? What happened to the James Buchanan Barnes charm from before he joined the army? Eighty or so years of watching your body murder people without your consent really fucked with a man’s flirting.
The elevator door opened. You got on first. He followed. The doors closed.
He was certain there was a different tension about you. He couldn’t tell what it was, but when you got to your floor and told him to have a good day, you almost seemed disappointed.
The next few visits to the Tower, the dance continued. You said the thing. He felt his insides melt or burn. He felt his outsides shiver or relax or tense. Each of those mornings, you put his body through the sweetest hell.
Which brought you to yesterday.
“What are you doing here?” Yelena walked into the building, nodding a hello in your direction when you turned to look at her, but pointing her Russian-accented question at him.
“I work here,” he said, smirking like a child repeating a joke their parent made.
“I hear you have been coming in often,” she said. She was blowing his cover. He didn’t want you to know he didn’t have to be in the Tower so much.
“Keeping tabs on me?” he tried to joke.
“I think it is interesting, Congressman. And you,” Yelena turned her attention. “I hear Mark from Accounting is going to ask you out. He is creepy. Say no. You will thank me.”
He did his best not to let his jaw tense at the idea of some other man taking your smiles from him.
He wondered if Yelena was testing him.
The three of you stepped on the elevator. “I thought Mark was married,” you said.
“He is not. Very divorced and very creepy. You strike me as the type to give people chances. I assure you, you do not want to do that with Mark.”
“Okay, thank you,” you laughed a little. “I didn’t know I was getting so popular around here.”
“What do you mean?” Yelena asked.
“I’m not trying to gossip, I’m telling you both because I trust you. Patrice from Admin asked me out last week.”
“You are joking. After all her drama with Joanne? I imagine you rejected her.”
“I let her down gently. She was really sweet.”
“Very good. Hopefully you will soon attract someone much more worth your time. You are nice, decent person.”
“Thank you, Yelena.”
Yelena gave Bucky a look. “No problem.”
After you left and told them to have good days, Bucky finally said: “Bob told you.”
“He did not have to. Everyone in the building knows,” Yelena laughed.
“Well, that’s embarrassing.”
“It will stay embarrassing if you don’t do something. Ask them for their number. You are the only Avenger who does not have it. Fucking Alexei has their number. Walker has their number, you foolish man. They, Bob, Ava, and I are in a group chat together.”
“I don’t need your help- wait- a group chat?”
“You are delusional and it is not 1912 anymore.”
“I was born in 1917.”
“Whatever! Ask for their number so you can stop literally stalking them where everyone in the building can see and talk about it. I thought you were an assassin. How can you suck so bad at this?”
“I’m not sucking- I don’t suck! … Shut up.”
He was nervous. He couldn’t eat the night before, and he skipped breakfast. He ran so many different scenarios in his head. He was still deciding what to say when you stood beside him. “Good morning, Bucky,” you said, and eviscerated him with your goddamn smile.
Internally, he quivered. “Good morning.”
The elevator came. You both stepped on. It started to rise.
The two of you spoke at the same time.
“Oh, I’m sorry-” you said.
“Please, go ahead,” he said.
“I- I don’t have your number,” you repeated.
His heart was making machinegun noises in his chest and he hoped you couldn’t hear it. “What?”
“You- your phone number? I don’t have it.”
“Oh. Oh! Here,” he dug into his jacket pocket and handed his phone to you. “Give me yours and I’ll text you.”
“You know how to text?” you teased.
“Ha, ha. Yes. Steve and Sam taught me.”
“I’m going to text myself. I don’t trust that you’ll text me and I don’t want to feel like a buffoon.” He heard your phone make a sound, confirming the message was received.
“Why wouldn’t I text you?”
“Why haven’t you asked me for my number already?”
“Oof,” he winced. “Harsh, but fair.”
You got to your floor and told him to have a good morning.
He had to lean against the elevator wall to steady his heartrate and catch his breath.
Please leave comments if you read! It absolutely makes my day.
lucifer masturbates loudly and then is your good boy
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11
notes: masturbation, shower masturbation, romance, dirty talk, good boy, pet play, daddy, mommy
ao3 link
“I think if we’re going to spend the day together, I’m going to need to rub one out,” Lucifer told you as you settled back on his bed, looking around his nightstand for his remote control. You looked at him to gauge whether or not he was serious, and were quickly discovering that this being actually meant some of the wild things he said.
“Um, where?” you asked, as he sat down on the bed beside you and fixed his pillow to get more comfortable.
“I was thinking right here,” he said honestly, and put his hands on his pants to start undoing them.
You put a hand on his to stop him. “Right here in front of me?” you said it with hope that he would hear how ridiculous it sounded, but he just nodded his head. “I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“I know you said you weren’t ready to have sex, but watching me stroke my big, thick, beautiful-”
“Lucifer, say one more word and I swear I am leaving this room!” you covered your ears playfully.
He laughed. “I’m just teasing!” He totally was not, but you didn’t know him well enough yet to tell. He jumped off from the bed and walked in the direction of his bathroom. “I’ll be right back. Do you need anything before I go? Something to drink, perhaps?” He made a glass of water appear on the nightstand beside you.
You shook your head. “Are you really going to jerk off right now?”
“It’s that or I’m going to be fighting an erection the entire time you’re here,” he was honest with you.
“I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“Flattered, darling~” he told you, and walked into the bathroom.
He turned on his shower. He poofed his clothes off and stepped into the warm water, his cock already thick and throbbing in his hand.
He may have moaned a little bit louder than he typically did and he may have played with himself a little longer than he would have if he wasn’t so aware of you waiting on the other side of the door.
The sounds he made were more submissive, remembering the smut you were reading that week. He whimpered for you. He whined. He interspersed some fucks in between his loud panting. He could hear you raising the volume of his TV and he laughed as he came, his body shaking from the mix of orgasm and comedy.
But once wasn’t enough for Lucifer. He rested a hand on the tiles of his shower wall and started to stroke himself again with the other, using his golden ejaculate as lube this time, creating less friction and feeling incredible.
His first time was more of a performance, but this time he forgot himself. He growled. He grunted. He recalled all of the events of the morning, from undressing you as little as he got to, to making out with you at the diner. When he came, it was to the image of you licking and sucking the whipped cream from his finger.
He left his hair a little damp but otherwise dried off quickly, whistling a little tune, and got into more of a lounge-around outfit which was pink and cozy. In comparison to your mostly black attire, the two of you looked like the goth girlfriend and the bubblegum girlfriend when he was in this attire.
He was delighted by the flush on your cheeks and the way you sat with your legs crossed. He imagined you must have been squirming listening to him fuck himself.
He asked if he could kiss your cheek and you nodded. “Sorry for the wait, my darling.”
You swallowed. “No problem.”
“Hear something you liked?” he teased.
You rolled your eyes, but seemed to struggle to level your breathing.
“You are so attracted to me,” he told you, shaking his head, feigning disappointment even though he was actually fucking ecstatic.
“You’re a bully,” you said back. “Are you just going to torture me until I sleep with you?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he brushed your hair out of your face. “Does it feel like torture not to have me inside you?” his question was mocking but sweet, very Daddy-esque of him.
Still breathing heavily, you moved closer to him, your lips gently brushing his ear. You whispered: “if you can be chill, I’ll tell you what that felt like for me.”
“I can so, totally, be chill,” he sat completely still, like an obedient puppy. He almost wanted to bark. He heard you swallow again. You breathed, and it felt delightful against his ear and neck. He closed his eyes.
“Listening to you jerking off made me very, very wet,” you whispered to him slowly and softly, emphasizing the last words.
He made fists with his hands and remembered to keep them to himself.
“You sounded so sexy and it was so arousing to know you were making all that noise for me to hear,” you told him.
His tail literally wagged. He definitely could not stay chill anymore. “Call me a good boy, please, call me a good boy, tell me I’m such a good boy for you,” he barked; he panted.
You chuckled and you sounded so much more confident than he was used to, and he loved it. You cupped the other side of his face with your hand and he felt completely under your control as you kept rewarding him with your words and attention, his tail wagging and whipping violently around the bed.
“You are such a good boy for me, Lucifer,” you whispered softly, and it felt fucking electric.
“Jesus Christ on a stick! If I hadn’t just fucked myself twice, I would absolutely be creaming my pants right now.”
You laughed and the sound was like a timelapse of flowers blooming. If a laugh could have a scent and texture, yours smelled of roses and felt like silk.
Lucifer ripped through his bedsheets with his hands and then repaired them immediately and then ripped them again.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough. Can we hang out, PG-13 style now?” you actually asked him.
“Am I allowed to say no?”
“No.”
“Then I guess we can!”
The two of you finally settled together to watch something on his television, both of you a little delirious from all the arousal and blushing and coming, at least him for that last one. He tried to forget that you told him you were wet. He was going to be Good Boy Lucifer for as long as he possibly could before his dick couldn’t handle the cuddling anymore.
peter parker falls in love with his disabled bestie
dedication: to all my disabled and chronically ill “girlies” (unisex)
reader is disabled (cane user, later wheelchair user) and has a difficult time imagining their fit as hell crush/ friend/ roommate peter parker would ever be in a relationship with a disabled person; author is disabled so a lot of that stuff is based on a true story; peter is an incredible golden retriever; reader and peter’s superhero friend spider-man also helps reader figure out some shit that’s been standing in their way; no sex; all romance
Six Months Ago
Peter had EV searching for any loopholes in Strange’s spell for years. He had forgotten about it entirely until this morning when EV got a hit.
“Someone in Newark Airport remembers you,” she told him. At first he thought he was still dreaming, but after a beat he jumped out of bed and stumbled to the computer, his overpowered reflexes the only things protecting him from getting tangled in his blankets and falling to the floor.
It was an old classmate. He barely remembered you. EV uploaded all sorts of inappropriate files about you on his screen but he didn’t even skim them. He just needed your name. Nothing else mattered.
He needed to speak to someone who remembered him. He needed to share space and time with someone who remembered his aunt and his history and his relationships with MJ, Ned, and Tony.
It was so lucky that you bumped into your old high school friend Peter Parker just when he was looking for a roommate and you were looking for an apartment. You just happened to bump into each other as you were visiting family and he was heading to the cemetery.
You remembered his aunt really well, and he actually cried when you recalled how she helped your class with volunteer work at the soup kitchens. You couldn’t hold him for too long—you were disabled and standing was harder on your body than sitting or even walking—but you were happy to embrace even if only for a moment.
And before you knew it, the two of you were living together.
Five Months Ago
Peter was different from what you recalled. Still a little dorky, but wow did he get jacked. You didn’t totally understand what he did for a living and why it was at night, but clearly it involved a lot of physical labor because the guy’s body was insane. You had started to have a little crush on him, but seeing all those muscles intimidated the fuck out of you.
You had dated a lot in high school and college and your various medical issues mostly made people kinder to you rather than interfering at all with your social or love lives. But you somehow got it in your head that Peter Parker would only be slowed down by someone like you.
He looked like he cared about fitness, and you condemned him for that. Someone like him probably would hate not being able to go for a long walk with you, or not being able to dance through the entirety of a song before having to sit down, you decided.
You also decided, very judgmentally, that you just weren’t good enough for Peter Parker, and so you pushed your feelings down as far away as they could go and went on enjoying your friendship instead.
Four Months Ago
Peter became a staple in your life. He wasn’t just a roommate. Your friendship developed very quickly. The chemistry was spectacular. You stayed up all night talking. You were the first person the other came to when anything interesting happened. You loved almost all the same movies. You played with Legos together. You tried to go out and make more friends, but tended to ostracize people with your inside jokes. You went on dates but your favorite part was leaving and getting to come home to hang out with Peter before he went to work again.
And he was so great with you in general. When you couldn’t get out of bed, he would bring you your toothbrush and a cup of water and helped you brush your hair. He would help you out of the shower with his eyes closed, into your bathrobe, and would walk you back to your bed. He did absolutely all of the cleaning in the apartment and never complained about it, and he was even learning how to cook your favorite meals.
You told him he didn’t have to do all these things for you, and that he didn’t sign on to have a burden for a friend, and that you were so sorry it had to be like that. He would just look at you like you were crazy, and ask if you wanted or needed anything else.
Three Months Ago
Along with Peter being a staple in your life, the stars mysteriously aligned and you had several absolutely wild encounters with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as well. You must have been blessed to live in his particular neighborhood because you had been protected by him from oncoming danger at least three times since you moved back to the city.
You were starting to flinch whenever you heard squeaky tires, because there were always cars crashing or being thrown around the city, but it was lovely when it ended well by you having your disabled ass saved by a fucking superhero!
Tonight, he was saving you in a much sweeter way. You had gone to a party with Peter, but he had to run off to work. You left to catch an Uber but by the time you came outside, you realized your phone was dead. You sighed and started walking to the Subway, only for Spider-Man to jump down in front of you.
“Hi- uh- hello, civilian,” he said, using a voice changer.
“Hello, Spider-Man,” you told him, leaning hard onto your cane as you stood.
He came over to you like he was about to pick you up into his arms, which he had done before, but hesitated and asked permission first. “I see you’re not well. I’m done with crime-fighting for the night and would like to escort you home.”
“Couldn’t find any elderly people awake at these hours?” you joked. “Had to find a cripple to help, instead?”
“Is- I don’t- that doesn’t sound like a very nice word. I don’t know if we’re supposed to say the c-word anymore,” he finally picked you up in his arms and started to swing you home.
You had your eyes closed very tightly, but he reassured you that he was as low to the ground as he could possibly swing, and that there was no way he would drop you. He’d never dropped anybody, yadda, yadda.
He had you tell him which one was your exact fire escape and even asked if you could guide you inside of your apartment, which you allowed. He waited as you washed your hands in the bathroom, and helped you get to your bedroom and bed.
There were maybe two other times this happened, where you were out late somewhere and getting home was a shitshow, and suddenly Spider-Man showed up to save the day.
“There is no way these are coincidences,” you told him the third time. “I know your secret.”
“What do you think you know?” he chuckled, but you could hear he was nervous.
“I know you’re friends with my roommate. I remembered something from high school, when he said you were going to drop by a party and he was going to introduce you. That’s why you keep taking care of me, right? Because Peter asked you too?”
“You got me,” he confessed. “Peter and I go way back. We used to work with Tony Stark together.”
And so not only were you besties with Peter Parker, you were actually kind of friends with fucking Spider-Man.
Two Months Ago
Peter was starting to act a little strangely. He was more awkward than usual, reminding you of when you were younger. He bumped into you a lot in the apartment, like suddenly the huge ugly loft was too small for two people. He started blushing a lot around you and it was excruciating. He was somehow even more attractive now than when you first met him. His behavior was making all of those feelings you kept buried deeply in the pit of your stomach start crawling to the surface.
So you started dating harder, and more often. Sometimes four dates on a weekend. You went out when your coworkers would invite you. You even made a friend with someone else in the building. You had to do everything you could to keep yourself from falling in love with that adorable motherfucker who you decided was too good for you and would never feel the same way about you as you did about him.
One Month Ago
Your pal Spider-Man was escorting you home again after one of the most terrible dates of your life. The guy was such a dick, you actually started crying while you were still at the bar with him. He made you feel like garbage, and you could barely text Peter through your crying. Then, weirdly early in the night, around 7 or 8PM, Spider-Man showed up as you were crying on a bench around the corner from that bar.
He attracted too much attention, so he swung the two of you onto a rooftop that had picnic tables and a garden. He sat beside you with an arm around you.
“I can’t believe Peter made you come get me,” you said through tearful hiccups. “He’s such a fucking angel, and so are you, Spider-Man.”
“It’s been a slow night, I promise,” he reassured you that he wasn’t letting someone else in the city get hurt by coming to take care of you. “Peter told me you’ve been dating a lot lately,” Spider-Man said through his horrible voice changer. “Is everything okay? You know you can talk to me if something’s wrong.”
You laughed at how ridiculous it was to be comforted by Spider-Man after a bad date. Friendly indeed! You cried into some napkins you took from the bar.
“You’re breaking my heart here. I hate seeing you like this,” he said.
You looked horrible. Swollen, blotchy, and pink, covered in tears.
“Can I ask you something pretty invasive?” he finally said.
“I mean, you’ve saved my life a few times. I probably owe you,” you laughed through your tears. “Just don’t ask me what that guy said to me, because it’s not even worth it and I’m going to try to delete it from my head.”
“I just think- I feel like I know Peter pretty well and- it’s just- do you ever- I mean- um. I think Peter’s into you. I think he was going to tell you before you went on this hyper dating spree. What- he was pretty sure you were into him too. It’s none of my business but- I guess- I don’t know what I’m trying to ask, actually. Never mind, it’s not appropriate.”
You were moved by how much Spider-Man cared about your silly little life, much less your silly little love life. “I like Peter a lot. I’m probably in love with him,” you confessed.
“Then what are you doing?!” he jumped up from the table, grabbing his head.
You laughed at his reaction, your crying fit starting to ebb. “Peter and I are incompatible, unfortunately.”
“Why do you say that?”
You picked up your cane from where it rested against the picnic table and shook it a little before setting it back.
“Not just hot, though. Like, fit. People like Peter just don’t date people like me.”
“People who … use canes?”
“Yeah.”
“You think Peter’s some sort of ableist jerk or something?”
“No! Oh my gods, Spider-Man, no. I just think, like, he clearly cares about fitness and ability. He’s always running around doing stuff. I would just slow him down.”
“Slow him down?”
“Yeah.”
“… slow him down from doing what?”
“What?”
“Peter never does anything but work and spend time with you, and sleep. What exactly do you think you’d be slowing him down from?”
“Your voice changer thingy is so annoying by the way, you sound like a slasher.”
“I’ll get a new one. Can you answer my question?”
“Well, when you ask it like that, it makes it seem like I’m being irrational or something, but I promise you, I’m not good enough for Peter Parker! Ugh, you know how you sometimes help me wash my hands when you take me home and then help me to my room and to my bed? He helps me with all that shit, too. We’re in our 20’s and he’s taking care of me like I’m 90 years old. It’s just not the vibe.”
“It sounds like he’s not the one who has a problem with it.”
“Spider-Man!” you said to him, but only because you didn’t know what else to say. Was he right? Had you been pushing Peter away for no good fucking reason?
“You’re right, I’m sorry for prying.”
You smiled at him, and you wondered what expression he had under his mask.
“Peter’s going to tell you that he’s into you. Maybe you should think about what you’re going to say.” He offered you his hand to help you stand and took your cane and handed you that, as well. He snatched you up in his arms with ease.
“Are you single, Spider-Man?” you teased him as he took you home.
“I’m married,” he laughed. “With children. Twins.”
“That’s a shame, but what a lucky little family to have you.”
He led you in your apartment and helped you get settled on your bed, but stopped for a moment before leaving.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. I just wanted to tell you that Peter would be very lucky to be with you, and he knows that. And if you’re not into him, that’s one thing, but if you’re dating every loser in the city because you think Peter has any issues with you being disabled, then I think you’re not giving yourself or him enough credit.”
“You’re a really good dude, Spider-Man. Let me know if things ever go awry with the missus.”
He laughed and left, closing your window behind him.
Three Weeks Ago
Peter was pacing around the apartment. He was going to sit you down and finally confess his feelings for you.
He tried to do it the day after your talk with Spider-Man, but you were still upset about your date and were still crying on and off. Apparently, the guy at the bar had an issue with you using a cane, which Peter now understood must have been really triggering. So he waited another day, and then another day. But now you’d stopped talking about it and stopped crying and were back to your as-sunny-as-you-could-possibly-be-while-in-almost-constant-physical-pain self.
“Peter, I have an announcement to make!” you told him, as you came into the living room and settled yourself on the couch.
He wanted to hug you and kiss you but instead walked over to the couch and sat beside you. “What is it?”
“I’m getting a wheelchair.”
He blinked, and waited. No thoughts were coming to him. He needed more information? He didn’t know what to say. “Con- congratulations?”
You laughed, and he felt relieved. “Yes! I’ve been in denial that I need one and I thought it just wouldn’t look cute and you know how important looking cute is to me,” you joked. “I’ve decided that I’m not going to torture myself any longer. I’ve thought about getting a manual one, but I just don’t have the upper body strength,” you laughed again. “So I saved up some money and I’m getting a fancy electric one!”
“Wow. You should have told me if money was standing in the way of that. I would have helped.”
“Oh my gods, Peter, stop it. That’s so embarrassing. I can’t be disabled and poor, that’s just too many injustices from the universe on one person.”
He chuckled, but none of this conversation was as funny as your laughter was implying. “Okay, so, um. Is it being delivered or can we pick it up or?”
“It’ll be here tomorrow so you’ll have to help me open the box outside and recycle it and stuff.”
“No problem.”
“And figure out all the scary shit about how to charge it and how long the batteries last.”
“I can make any improvements on it that you might need,” he was already thinking about all of the different things he could try to make it better for you.
“Thanks, Peter. I’m really excited. I am sad Spider-Man won’t need to spider me home anymore, now that I’ll have my Big Wheels.”
“I’m sure Spider-Man can handle an electric wheelchair. He’s very strong. I’ve seen him lift a car.”
“Oh my gods, Peter, I am not going to let Spider-Man carry me and my wheelchair, how fucking embarrassing. Can you imagine? Stop, I don’t even want that image in my brain.”
“Were you always like this about your medical stuff?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You never really talk about how hard it is for you, and I can understand that. But you just called it embarrassing. I didn’t know it could be embarrassing to be disabled. Isn’t embarrassment, like, for committing social faux pas? You’re not doing anything socially or morally or in any other way wrong by existing as a disabled person.”
“Okay, someone’s been on social media this week.”
“Can we please talk about this? I mean, I know you’re uncomfortable, but, like, if you’re not talking with me about it, can you promise me you’ll talk to anyone else? Maybe a therapist or something?”
“A therapist? What the hell?”
“I’m just worried that you’re, like, suffering in silence or something.”
“Spider-Man told you about our conversation, didn’t he?”
“He told me some things.”
“Alright, Peter, I’ll talk to someone.”
“You will?”
“Yeah, Spider-Man made me think about it and I think I have some issues I might need to get over. The wheelchair is a step in that direction, actually, kind of like a deeper acceptance that I am the way I am, or whatever.”
“That makes me so happy. I’m so proud of you,” he leaned over to hug you and you hugged him back.
Two Weeks Ago
You were really having a hard time with it. The wheelchair felt enormous, like you were rolling down the street in a tank. You felt every single bump and crack in the sidewalk. There were places you literally couldn’t go unless you parked the thing outside, and there were places you could go but sometimes just avoided them because getting inside of them caused too much of a commotion. You felt like everyone was looking at you all the time.
You and Peter had plans to go to see a movie in the morning on a Saturday and you decided you wouldn’t even bring the wheelchair. You met Peter in the kitchen with your cane.
“You ready?” he asked with a puzzled expression.
“Don’t give me a hard time, please, Peter,” you started walking toward the door. You handed him your purse, since sometimes it was too heavy for you to carry, and he seemed to love carrying your shit for you.
“I have questions,” was what he told you, which he hoped wouldn’t count as giving you a hard time. “Maybe we skip the movie and stay in today? Do a movie marathon instead?”
You paused in the doorway and sighed, turning around and heading over to the couch. “Yeah, that sounds like a better idea.”
You were either moping or genuinely depressed, and he was worried either way. He made some popcorn and poured some sodas and was back on the couch with you as soon as he could be.
“Spider-Man’s been asking about you,” he told you, trying to cheer you up.
“He’s married. I asked,” you joked, and he loved seeing you smile again.
“What’s Spider-Man got that I don’t?” he joked back, and then realized what he’d said. He turned to look at you, but you didn’t seem phased.
“Well, first of all, the super strength thing.”
“I’m strong!”
“Yeah, but you’re too strong for a human.”
“Wait, so it’s cool that he’s strong because he’s a superhero, but if I’m strong it’s bad?”
“Yes, exactly,” you were teasing, and even though he hated what you were saying, he wanted you to keep having fun. If that meant being mildly cruel to him, he would take it.
“Okay, what else?” he encouraged.
“Well, the voice changer. That shit gets me so hot-” you fanned yourself.
“I can get a voice changer. That one doesn’t count. Next!”
“Okay, um, he flies me around the city?”
“Okay, fair. I guess I can’t do that. But how important is that in a romantic relationship?”
“Oh, it’s becoming very important to me,” you joked. “I would say it’s almost a dealbreaker. I think he’s ruined me for all men. I can only date superheroes now.”
Peter rolled his eyes while smiling.
“I guess you’re equally kind, and you’re both very easy to talk to. You have the whole not wearing a mask thing going for you. Unfortunately, masks are not a kink of mine.”
“Okay, so we’re 2:1 in his favor. Is there anything else about me that’s better than Spider-Man?”
You looked at him, and he would have done absolutely anything to know what you were thinking when you looked at him like that, like you were allowing yourself to really see him. You spent so much time looking away, walking away, or rolling your eyes. He wanted to bask in this moment, in whatever obviously positive thoughts about him were going through your head.
And then the moment was gone. “No, there’s nothing else. I’m going to become his second wife one day. I don’t care if I have to wait until I’m 90.” You were joking, but your heart wasn’t in it.
He sighed. He felt like he did finally confess to you and you rejected him. And why did he think you wouldn’t? He really thought that after that one conversation with Spider-Man, that you would see how good the two of you were together. But you clearly didn’t want to be with him.
“Peter?”
“Hm?”
“What’s up? You’re all lost in thought or whatever.”
“You know I love you, right?”
Cautiously, you said it back. “I love you, too, Peter.”
He looked at you for another moment, and then turned toward the television. He picked up the remote and handed it to you. “Alright, you pick the first one,” he finally said.
One Week Ago
“I have a surprise for you!” Peter said as soon as he heard you close the front door behind you, coming back into the apartment from work. You sat in the chair by the door to take off your shoes. Peter stood in the living room, bouncing a little as he waited. The coffee table was pushed back and there was something enormous in the middle of the living room, hidden under a tarp.
“Okay, what is it?” you remained seated in the chair, needing to rest a bit after the walk home from work.
“Are you ready?” he asked you.
“As ready as I can be,” you smiled if only to mirror his excitement.
He lifted the tarp and said “tada~”
It was your wheelchair, only it was decorated. It had originally been an ugly yellow color, but now it was painted all black, with glittery spiderwebs drawn everywhere. Somehow the change of color and addition of design made it look more fun.
“I know you said you wanted it to be cute, but you don’t actually like cute things at all, so I thought what if it was cool instead? Now doesn’t this look like something Spider-Man would proudly carry around the city for you?”
You used your cane to help you stand, and could tell through Peter’s body language that he wanted to go over to you and help you, but he stopped himself. “It’s okay, come help me get closer,” you told him, and he immediately got close to you, put your arm around him, and helped you over to the couch, where he set you down so gently.
“Okay, I mean, it looks like something a kid with cancer would ask for, but I kinda love it,” you told him, surprised that you felt a little choked up and weepy about it.
He squatted down in front of you and held your hand. “You okay?”
You waved your other hand. “I don’t know why your stupid gift is making me emotional,” you lied.
He smiled. “Doesn’t it look cool as fuck now? Can we take it out? Maybe go for a walk in the park together?”
You started crying and nodded your head. “The yellow was so ugly!”
“It was so ugly,” he laughed and reached over to where there was a box of tissues on a table and handed you a few.
“It’s still pretty terrible, you know. A bunch of paint and glitter doesn’t make this actually any cooler,” you told him.
“It is so, way, cooler!” he insisted.
“Come here,” you pulled him closer to hug him.
And he kissed you instead.
Today
“So I heard you and Peter are together, congratulations; I’m happy you were able to figure things out for yourself.” Spider-Man was webbing through the city with you in his arms, only he had your wheelchair attached to his back with straps that Peter built special for this. The fucking superhero carried your wheelchair like a backpack!
“You’ll have to bring the missus and the twins to the wedding. Do you want to be my maid of honor or Peter’s best man?”
“Matron of honor, is what they’d call me, since I’m married.”
“You’ve known Peter longer but you’d still rather be on my side of the wedding?”
“No contest,” Spider-Man told you. “You’ve been together for a week and he’s already proposed?”
“Obviously not, but a cripple needs a new thing to daydream about, now that the cripple has their man.”
“I still don’t think we’re supposed to be using that word.”
“You’re such a good person. You know, Peter doesn’t like when I use words like that either.”
“I imagine he wouldn’t, since they’re slurs!”
“He and I were talking, actually, about all of the different things you and him have in common.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, and it made me realize something. Like, I’ve never seen the two of you in the same room together, you know, that kind of stuff.”
“Oh? That’s funny, I didn’t realize-”
“Yeah, and how Peter has every Avengers phone number in his phone, but doesn’t actually have yours, and yet the two of you talk all the time-”
“Well-”
“And I’ve asked a couple of people who have spoken to you, and they were surprised to hear me say that you have a voice changer. They said Spider-Man doesn’t use a voice changer, and that he has a thick Queens accent.”
“What a silly-”
“I know it’s you, Peter.”
“See, that’s tricky, because I can’t exactly prove to you that I’m not Peter, because I’d have to lift my mask. And then you’d know my real secret identity.”
“Uh huh. EV, turn off Peter’s voice changer.”
“What, EV is not just going to follow your commands.”
“Then you ask her.”
“It’s not a her, it’s an … it.”
“Why are you fighting me, I already told you I know the truth.”
“Fine! EV, turn off voice changer. There you go, are you happy?”
“Are you serious? I’m dating Spider-Man? I’m fucking ecstatic. Maybe next time someone is in their head about their feelings about you, you tell them you’re a fucking superhero. That would have really tipped the scale in your favor.”
“Well, we superheroes always have to know you love us for who we are first, and all that.”
“Lame!”
“You can’t say that word, either! What is it with you and ableist slurs? Can you settle down, please?”
“Whatever, Peter. Now that I know you’re not just strong, but fucking superhuman strong, you can just carry me in your arms everywhere.”
“Are you serious, because I’ve actually thought about that-”
“No, I’m not serious.”
And you lived mostly happily, and disabled, ever after.
peter parker is your good boy and he deserves a treat
summary: peter has been fucking you so good since you started dating, you decided he needed to be rewarded with his first ever blow job
notes: peter parker/reader; subby!peter; good boy; inexperienced-ish!peter; gn!reader; dom!reader; dubcon; oral (peter receiving); blood; biting (self); blushing; swallowing; loving degradation?; not exactly premature ejaculation; hair-pulling; aftercare; pet names; kissing; love
ao3 link
You walked into Peter’s room and kissed the top of his head while he type-type-type’d away on his keyboard. He made a kissing sound in your direction, but his eyes were glued to whatever he was doing.
You grabbed a pillow from his bed and tossed it under his desk, which made him glance away from his multiple screens for a moment, before returning to what he was doing.
He looked at you again when you got on the floor, your knees on that pillow, and started undoing his pants.
“Lift your ass up for me, honey,” you told him, and he did it without thinking. You pulled down his pants and briefs and immediately put his cock in your mouth.
“H-hey, what are you- ohhh fuck-”
Peter had been taking care of you for weeks, ever since you started dating. He was such a fucking giver. He fucked you, licked you, sucked you, or fingered you on a daily basis, and you were always too spent from coming and coming and coming to reciprocate. You decided you had to get to him before he got to you today.
You swirled your tongue around his cock, loving the feeling of it expanding in your mouth as he got hard for you.
“What- why- hey-” he was trying to get your attention, his muscles already spasming from the overstimulation. Peter was sensitive, was he? You looked up at him as you sucked the head of his cock and saw him biting down on his fist. “Fuck, that’s r-really intense,” he said.
You pulled him out of your mouth, jerking him slowly with your hand. “Peter, is this the first-”
He nodded quickly, tears filling his eyes and and falling down the sides of his face. His smile was wide and he was panting through his bite. His cheeks were always fucking red whenever you so much as grazed him.
You leisurely licked him up from base to tip.
“Fuck, oh my- fuck-”
He was so reactive. Your sweet, submissive little service top had a secret and you’d found it out. Peter was inexperienced at receiving. He overcompensated by giving and giving, and now that you knew this, you were going to show him what he’d been missing.
“Push me down with your hand, Peter,” you told him before sliding his cock back into your mouth and sucking on the tip. You licked so, very gently at the head. You felt the hesitant pressure of his hand against the back of your head and you slid his long, thick cock slowly down your throat.
“Holy fucking shit I’m going to come-”
You put a hand on his and encouraged him to push your head down. He fucked himself so good with your throat for several pumps before he came.
He was shaking, his muscles clenching and releasing quickly, his toes curling. He bit through the skin on his fist and was bleeding down his arm.
You swallowed all his come and slid him out of your mouth. You loved the lack of clean-up. Messes were for sweet, whimpering little angels like him.
“You okay, baby?” you asked him.
He released his fist with another shaky breath, getting himself together, sliding his briefs and pants back on with his other hand. “Th-thank you. That was- I just- wow.”
“That was really exciting. I love how fast you came for me, Peter,” you stood up and kissed the top of his head again. He rested his face against you standing between his legs and wrapped his arms around you.
“I’ll- I’ll work on it. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect it.”
“My precious, good, sweet man,” you pet him and ran your fingers through his hair, “you don’t have to apologize for anything. You’re fucking perfect. Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?”
He rubbed his face against you, wiping his tears with your shirt. “Are you s-sure it’s okay?”
“I will suck your dick all day if you keeping coming like that for me,” you told him, fucking enamored with the feel of his hair. You ran your fingers through it one more time and tugged on it gently until you heard him moan into your abdomen.
“I really like the way that feels,” he told you, finally able to speak full sentences again.
You dragged your nails against his scalp and pulled on his hair again. He tilted his head back and looked up at you, his expression so desperate and delicious. You would have given him anything he asked for, but your darling baby never asked for anything.
“Good boy,” you told him, and he gently bit his lip. “If you keep telling me what you like and what you want, I’ll keep giving it to you.”
He nodded lightly.
“Say thank you.”
“Thank you so much. That was literally too good.”
“Do you need anything else before I let you get back to work?”
“Kiss me, please,” he asked you.
You moved your hand from his hair, over his precious little face, down to his chin, where you held him gently. You leaned down to place a loving kiss on his sweet, wet mouth. He parted his lips for you and you stuck your tongue in slowly, running it over his as he lifted it patiently for you.
“You’re such a fucking good boy, Peter,” you told him again, delighted by how well he knew exactly how you wanted to kiss him.
When you broke apart, he started to undo your pants. “I want to please you now,” he told you. “Is that okay?”
series name: lucifer is a little unhinged and a lot obsessed with you
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11
tags: bratting, brat taming, noncon, dubcon, blushing, whipped cream, class difference, allusions to oral, kissing, lack of safe word, biting, neck kissing
Lucifer sat across from you at a trashy little diner near the hotel. His arms were crossed, his body slumped, his brows furrowed, and his lip pouting.
“We can go somewhere else if you don’t like this place,” you checked in with him.
“It’s fine,” he looked out the window. Why didn’t you want to have sex with him? Why did you bring him to this dump and tell him you wanted to pay for everything? Why didn’t you wake him up last night so he could live out his fantasies? Why were you ruining everything?
But you were there together. You were making those half-confident, half-shy little expressions in his direction. You seemed curious about what he was thinking and feeling. You kept checking in on him. Maybe he could get over himself a little and not act like such a spoiled brat?
He sat up straight and opened the menu, which was several pages long. He rolled his eyes.
But how cute would it have been if the two of you shared a milkshake? Wasn’t that a thing?
He closed the menu after reading the first five options.
The waitress was surprised to see him and took a moment before asking for your orders.
“Coffee. Black,” he told her.
“I’ll have the cinnamon apple waffle,” you told the waitress and pretended to whisper: “I’m really in the mood for apples all of the sudden.” The waitress smiled and walked away.
“Really, that’s all you’re getting, Your- Lucifer?”
He waved a hand. “I’m not much of a breakfast person.”
“You’re not just doing this because I’m poor and would be homeless without Charlie’s hotel?”
He shook his head. “That hadn’t occurred to me, actually,” he admitted. “I just need my coffee first before I can do anything.”
You sipped at your water. “You didn’t seem to need your coffee when you tried to fuck me earlier.”
He shot you an offended look. “Darling, you wound me. Must you remind me of your betrayal?”
“Betrayal?!”
“I meant rejection,” he leaned over the table to hold your hand.
You were a sucker, so you let him, but only for a moment before you took your hand back so you could hold yours both together in your lap. You looked everywhere but at him.
“Can you try to put yourself in my position? I’m nervous. You’re a bajillion years old, no shade, but that means you have a lot more experience than I do at probably a lot of things. Is it so crazy that I might want to, oh, I don’t know, go on a few dates with you before we do anything intimate?”
Lucifer tilted his head. “I’m not trying to be difficult, but what does my age have to do with it?”
The waitress brought his coffee. He took a sip and didn’t like the taste of it, but tried to hide that fact. He snapped his fingers and replaced the awful diner coffee with his own, and sipped that contentedly.
You were tense. You were blushing. You looked at the window, but not through it. “I don’t think I’m going to necessarily blow your mind, so to speak,” and the adorable pink puffs of blush burned even redder on your skin.
Lucifer moved from his side of the booth to join you over on yours and put his hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. “Sweetheart, are you saying you’re intimidated by me sexually?”
You leaned over to hide your face in his hair, the embarrassment of hearing him say the concept out loud absolutely mortifying you.
He chuckled and put his arms around you, helping you hide.
“Don’t laugh!” you asked.
“It’s a little funny.”
“It’s not what I’m saying!”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I just don’t see how I’m going to keep your interest. In general, not sexually! You’re not really known for enjoying the company of sinners. I don’t have eons of interesting stories to tell you. I just thought I could enjoy some time with you before you realize you’re bored to death by me. Maybe a few dates. And then you’d either ghost me or dump me. That was my plan.”
Lucifer continued to rub your back. You slid your face from his hair to resting at his neck. He enjoyed the closeness very much. You lowered the volume of your voice a little.
“Sharing it out loud, I hear how ridiculous it is and I regret wasting your time with any of this at all. I was a little drunk when I asked you out, and Husk was, like, making it seem like a good idea. And I just got caught up. And then my friends kept talking about your dick and now I regret everything and I’m sorry and if you get up I will run out of here and hide in my room for the next year.”
Lucifer let your confession sink in. “You’re being ridiculous and that’s okay,” he told you. “You said the thing and now we can move on from that nonsense. I’m not going to get tired of you. I spent most of my life with my wife and I never got tired of her. I’m not wired that way. I’m flattered that you see me so highly, but it’s not necessary. You’re just going to have to get over your insecurities.”
“Oh, sure, let me just get over those real quick,” you laughed. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he comforted you.
He pet your head, enjoying the softness of your hair. “You could also just feel embarrassed and hug me forever, because this feels really nice,” he added.
You exhaled. You didn’t seem to want to separate any more than he did.
“How many dates until we can have sex, though, because I do have needs.”
“Lucifer!”
He laughed. “Maybe we should go back to Your Majesty,” he joked.
“Holy hells, you’re incorrigible! You would order me to have sex with you?” You still couldn’t look at him, but sounded happy to still be talking.
He rolled his eyes. “I would order you to grow up a little,” he mumbled through the side of his mouth, and enjoyed the feeling of your laughter against his body.
“I can’t put a number on it,” you teased. “I’ll know I’m ready when I’m ready.”
He pat your head. “Yes, yes, of course. Your body, your choice, and all that.”
“Lucifer, it is my body and my choice!”
“Yes, but I’m the King. Don’t I deserve some special treatment?” he wasn’t kidding, but he hoped you thought he was.
An intrusive thought went through his head. He would have to tell you about masturbating in your room and licking your clit in his snake form, and he would have to tell you that before you fucked each other, or else you would never forgive him. He gulped.
The waitress brought your apple cinnamon waffle. Lucifer picked up a spoon and started to eat the whipped cream from your plate.
“Hey, that’s mine,” you finally sat up and reached out to get the spoon from him, but he wouldn’t let you, and he enjoyed how close your face was to his as you reached.
“Not anymore it isn’t. I’m the King of Hell and I’m not getting laid tonight so this waffle, and this whipped cream, and these apples are all mine.”
You chuckled and shook your head. “Does that make you feel big, Your Majesty? Stealing a poor sinner’s waffle?”
“And whipped cream and apples,” he reminded you, cutting into the waffle and waving the bite in front of you before putting it in his mouth. “Mmmm,” he moaned exaggeratedly, hitting the table with a fist and leaning over it, “shitty diner waffle, so exquisite, I can barely contain my glee.”
You tried to reach for some whipped cream with your finger, but he moved the entire plate out of your way before you could. You gave him an idea. He put the plate back down and picked up some whipped cream on his own finger and presented it to you. “If you eat that, you can have your waffle back,” he told you.
You kept your eyes on his as you parted your lips and took his finger into your mouth. You licked the whipped cream from him slowly, swirling your tongue around his finger to make sure you got every bit. His cock was hard and he didn’t care to hide it from you anymore, not even in this fucking plebian diner. But your eyes were still on his as you pulled his finger out, sucking on it a bit as you did.
He leaned over and kissed you, pressing his body against yours, one hand immediately under your shirt and bra, cupping your breast and thumbing your nipple. Your hands were on his chest, but you weren’t pushing him away. He could sense you in conflict with yourself, but you parted your lips and let him in your mouth.
And maybe if he hadn’t forgotten himself and didn’t put his other hand up your skirt, you wouldn’t have stopped kissing him and you wouldn’t have said “Lucifer, stop,” and he wouldn’t be kissing down the side of your face to your neck and biting you and sucking on your skin and you wouldn’t be quivering in his arms, panting, asking him “Lucifer, please, stop,” and your hands wouldn’t both be pulling his out from under your skirt and he wouldn’t be growling like a fucking predator, leaving bite marks and hickeys on your neck and you wouldn’t be saying “this isn’t fair, we don’t have a safe word, you have to stop.”
He did stop and he put his head in his hands and his elbows on the table and he breathed and at first he wasn’t sorry at all about what he did and then he felt nothing but sorry.
He made the mistake of looking at you, flushed and hot and messy, fixing your bra through your shirt. He watched you fix your hair and get yourself settled, and touching the spots on your neck that probably already hurt, but would definitely hurt more tomorrow.
“I apologize,” he forced himself to say.
“You do know about consent, right?” you asked him, taking a bite of your waffle.
He nodded.
“Okay, because so far you’re 0 for 2 in that department.”
You had no fucking idea.
“3 if we count reading over my shoulder,” you teased.
He was relieved to hear you didn’t hate him.
“And I should probably also count stealing my waffle as 4. It’s not a good look, Your Majesty.”
He reached over to grab his coffee cup from the other side of the table and refilled it with fresh, delicious coffee. He sipped on it and tried to relax, though drinking coffee was probably not the way to make that happen.
He started to feel sad that once you were finished with your terrible waffle, you’d probably want to separate and then he would have to wait hours before he could see you or touch you again.
“Lucifer?”
“Hm?”
“You’re not saying anything.”
“I’m already starting to miss you.”
“Stop it, you’re not serious,” you nudged him with your hip. He put his arm around your waist.
“I’m very clingy,” he admitted.
“I’m clingy, too,” you said quietly.
“You are?”
“Yes. Can we spend the rest of the day together?” you asked him.
His eyes welled with tears, which surprised you even though you’d definitely seen this man cry several times already, this week alone. He nodded.
When the waitress passed by again, he asked for the check. You tried to fight him about it but he completely ignored you, paying the tab and over-tipping.
chapter 6: lucifer acts inappropriately when he sees an opportunity
series name: lucifer is a little unhinged and a lot obsessed with you
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11
notes: billionaire, romance, men crying is my kink lololol, noncon, dubcon, coercion, undressing
Lucifer was fucking exhausted, but he couldn’t let himself fall asleep. There was so much riding on this night, all of the little Lucifers inside of him were saying.
You had called him the being of your dreams.
He got himself dressed up in a crisp button-down shirt and the pants that went with his favorite coat. He wanted to do something epic and romantic. There had to be flowers involved. The restaurant had to be empty of all other diners except for you and him. He started making arrangements.
He decided your date would be at 8PM. He was getting delirious and forgetting details. There would have to be chocolates. The restaurant would need to have a live band. A string quartet, or something else fancy. He didn’t know what kind of food you liked, so they had to be ready for anything.
It would have to be far into the part of hell where the imps were. He could hurt imps, but not so much sinners, and he needed to feel like absolutely everything was in his control. It was already the afternoon.
There was a knock on his door.
“I’ll be right there, Charlie,” he said, walking over, still holding his phone to his ear, making last-minute arrangements. A limousine stocked with liquor. A gift of jewelry, perhaps? Did you wear jewelry?
“Hi, it’s me,” you said nervously.
“I’ll call you back,” he told the person on the line and put his phone in his pocket. “Hello, darling! We never set a time for tonight; I’ve been making arrangements for 8PM; I hope that’s okay?”
“Oh.”
“Oh? You’re not cancelling, are you?” he panicked, and sounded like it.
“No! I just- I thought I was planning it,” you reminded. “Remember, I told you you didn’t ask first-”
“Oh, that’s okay,” he waved his hand dismissively. “It’s all handled.”
“Oh,” you looked disappointed.
Nononononono, not that face. Not sad! Why did you look sad?
“What is it, darling?” He took both your hands and led you into the room.
You looked amazed by it, and momentarily distracted from whatever concerned you.
“Go ahead, look around if you like,” he encouraged. He was so fucking tired, he was starting to see two of you.
His hands would not leave you. Anywhere you walked or turned, he was there, almost as if the two of your were dancing. A hand at the small of your back. A hand on your arm. A hand helping you up from crouching, looking at something low to the ground. He could easily lose himself in your rhythm. He could almost sing to the tune of the steps you made.
“Your stuff is fascinating,” you told him. “What’s with all the ducks? And look at the books! I thought you said you barely read!”
He waved a hand again. He would have enjoyed this more if he could just have a little cat nap; just a few minutes. He sat down on the bed and closed his eyes.
“Lucifer? Lucifer?” you asked him, but it was too late. He was fast asleep.
He woke with a start, jumping up in his bed. The date! Oh good heavenly fucks, he missed the date! He dug into his pockets for his phone. It was already well into tomorrow! Tears welled in his eyes and immediately plummeted down his face.
“Hey, sshhh, it’s okay,” you told him, your voice was like the sound of powdered sugar being poured over freshly made pastries. You sat up and embraced him.
You were in his bed together, disappointingly clothed. “I hope it’s okay I stayed with you. I totally watched you sleep for a long time, like a creep,” you chuckled.
“Our date!” he reminded through his tears and hugged you back.
“Lucifer, you were so tired. I couldn’t wake you.”
He tried to steady his breathing and organize his thoughts. He missed the date, yes. But that could be redone. He had planned it all at the last minute, and he could do it again, and maybe even better. He wiped the tears from his eyes.
You were in his bed.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you would be this disappointed,” you told him, sitting up and wiping his tears with your slender, beautiful hands.
He made a strange expression, pursing his lips and narrowing his yes. “Yes,” he said. “Disappointed. Oh, I am so, very disappointed. Heartbroken, really. Truly! Why, I don’t know if I’ll ever recover,” he watched your face.
You were confused and suspicious, a bit of a smile hinting from your lips. “I’m listening,” you tilted your head, as if to see into him.
“I just- I’m beside myself-” he placed his hand on his chest and shook his head. “It was going to be amazing, I hope you know,” he undid the top three buttons of his shirt.
You noticed, but still didn’t know where he was going with this.
“If only there was something,” he unbuttoned another button, “anyone could do,“ and another, ”to help me feel better after such a,” he took a deep breath, his shirt completely open, and when he exhaled, he shimmied it off his shoulder, “devastating change of plans.”
You giggled into your hand. “Wow,” you laughed and laughed. “Okay, I think I hear what you’re getting at.”
“Do you?” Lucifer was on his knees now, leaning over you, which made you back up into his headboard. While maintaining eye contact, he placed his hand on your leg and started to slide it up your skirt, over to where your fishnet pantyhose ended.
“Your Majesty, I’m not-”
“I am just, so, very distraught about this,” he nodded, and you nodded with him, more amused than confused. He used both hands now to pull your pantyhose off from under your skirt, slowly down your legs, maintaining eye contact with you. He threw them to the floor. “It’s going to take a lot, and I mean, just, a whole seven hells of a lot to heal my disappointed, nay, broken heart.”
You rolled your eyes with a smile. “You poor thing, I hear you, but I-”
“No, please, do not pity me.” His hands were at the bottom of your shirt now. He tilted his chin and when he did, you put your arms up, and off your shirt went over your head. “Pity won’t help here.”
“Don’t pity you. Got it,” you played along, now sitting shirtless with your underwear and skirt on. “Your Majesty, I-”
“Lucifer,” he corrected, unzipping his pants.
“Lucifer, stop! This is cute but I’m not ready.”
His body collapsed theatrically onto the bed, as if he’d fainted. “The rejection!” he bellowed.
You laughed. “Lucifer, please, be reasonable.”
He turned to you, eyes full of fears, pants undone, hair messy. He blinked at you a few times, the utter image of devastation. So pathetic in his sorrow, the back of his hand against his forehead.
“Lucifer, please,” you begged.
Yes, baby, beg me, he thought, his cock growing harder.
You made a squeaky noise and got out of the bed. You reached for the clothes he threw onto the floor and walked quickly over to his door.
He was on his knees again on the bed, this time actually devastated, no longer playing pretend. He sat on his feet.
You pulled your shirt back on, inside out and backwards, and froze holding onto his doorknob. “Can we slow down?” you asked him.
He nodded.
You exhaled, but remained by the door.
“I really like you,” you told him.
He waited for a however.
“Do you want to go out for breakfast?” you rolled your pantyhose back on, one leg at a time, giving him a chance to think.
He stood up from the bed and with a puff of smoke was fully dressed again. He fixed your shirt with the same magic.
He nodded.
You reached out a hand in his direction and opened the door with the other.
chapter 5: lucifer acts inappropriately in the form of a snake
series name: lucifer is a little unhinged and a lot obsessed with you
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11
notes: masturbation, sex toy mention, fantasizing, noncon, dubcon, beastiality (snake)
Lucifer hadn’t slept in four days. The excitement of your upcoming date was too much for him to handle. He played with himself so often and so roughly that his cock and hands were aching. He had to start using a fleshlight, which he actually had to clean dust off from first.
He was going on a date with you! He would have prolonged, close access to your body, and your uninterrupted attention. And maybe you would go down on each other. And maybe you liked it slow and tender and lasting for hours. And maybe you would order him around. And maybe you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. Those were half the thoughts that kept him awake.
The other half were so much worse. He never exchanged numbers with you. You never set a time for the two of you to meet. He heard the term ghosting, and imagined you betraying him this way.
He waited for you in the lobby in the morning, as he always did, to jump at the chance to set your date in stone. You didn’t show. He couldn’t just wait all day in the lobby for you to choose to spend time with him; that would be pathetic. And though he was pathetic and deplorable lately, he couldn’t let you know that.
He decided he had to break his own boundaries again.
He turned himself into a miniature version of his snake form, white and cute and scaly, and portaled himself under your bed.
He could hear you were awake, texting loudly on your phone, the speed of your click-click-click impressing him. He slithered up your bed post and wrapped himself around it.
You were naked on the bed, your hair wet and your legs bent at the knees. His first instinct, surprisingly, was not to ogle you but to make sure you weren’t sending nude photos to anyone. Once he felt reassured that you were just texting some bullshit with your friends, he was able to consider whether or not it would be appropriate to take in the scene.
Did he really want the first time he saw you naked to be without your consent? He closed his eyes and for extra safety covered them with his tail.
Your phone rang. He was so relieved that someone called you, so he could hear your voice and have more glimpses into your world. That was the point of his boundary-breaking, after all, to find some information and figure out a smooth way to meet up with you for your carelessly disorganized date.
“Ugh, I have no idea. I thought he was serious but I realized last night that we didn’t set a time or anything!”
Oh, good, you were upset about it, too.
“Yeah, I just got out of the shower. I don’t really know what to do. Do I just hope we bump into each other and one of us is like, hey, weren’t we going to go out today?”
No, that’s not what was going to happen.
“I’m such a loser, I must have told him fifteen times how excited I am about this date.” It was twice, but he was relieved you had a similar penchant for exaggeration as he did.
“Ew, don’t even joke. I am not involving Charlie in this.”
The worst part about being in his snake form was that he was impacted tremendously by temperature, and you liked to keep your room cold. He had to think fast before he got sleepy. He thought a little differently in snake form. His body was compelled to move toward heat. He slithered down the bed post, and over into your hair.
You instinctively moved your arm to check why your hair was moving and when you did, he slithered quickly down your body as you let out a shriek.
“What the fuck is happening?” Angel Dust’s voice came through when you dropped your phone on the bed.
“There’s a snake!”
“A snake? What kind of fucking snake?”
“Does that matter, Angel?!”
“Um, yeah! There’s the poison-y ones and the strangle-y ones.”
You tilted your head observing him. He was nestled in the warm spot you left in the middle of your bed as you backed yourself into your headboard. He couldn’t portal away now, and your body was emitting so much heat. If he could just nestle close to you, he would feel better, and then he’d have enough strength to run and portal away.
“Um, it doesn’t have a rattle. Does that mean it’s not a poison-y one?”
“How the fuck should I know? I’ll go get Husker.”
“Don’t! I’m fucking naked on my bed.”
“Grow up, Husk won’t give a shit. That’s my man.”
“Can you just shut up? I don’t think it’s going to hurt me. It looks like it’s falling asleep.”
“You have bigger snakes to worry about tonight,” Angel laughed.
“I hate you so much. You’re so lucky no one else likes me and I’m too lonely not to have a friend.” You seemed to have plenty of friends but, again, the exaggeration.
Lucifer had soaked up most of the heat from your bed and he needed more. He slithered to your body. You were scared, but a winning part of you was curious. There was something about this little creature that seemed harmless.
Lucifer wrapped himself around your calf, and you remained still as he did so. He could feel your heart rate increasing. He wanted to comfort you, but he didn’t know how.
“Oh yeah, it’s definitely a strangle-y one,” you said, somewhat calmly. “It’s on my leg now. It’s probably trying to cut off my circulation or something. This is how I’m going to die. Naked, on the day I have a date with the being of my dreams.”
The being of what now?
“You dumb ho, you’re just trying to get out of it. Listen, if you don’t want the short king, I’ll take him off your hands.”
“Fuck, Angel, can’t you just leave one man in this hotel for me?”
“No.”
You reached out to the little snake bravely. It didn’t flinch. It slid further up your leg, but the way it wrapped around you didn’t hurt you. It rubbed his face against your hand the way a kitten or puppy might.
He could feel so much heat coming from between your legs. He needed to be there like his life depended on it.
“Awe, I think it likes me,” you told Angel. “Is it weird that its eyes are closed?”
“You are so boring. Lucifer’s cock is the snake that’s going to like you.”
“Shut the fuck up, I am not fucking Lucifer tonight,” you told him.
And why in the seven hells not? Lucifer wondered. If he were a rattlesnake, he would have been rattling obnoxiously over that comment.
“I don’t want this to be a one and done kind of thing. I actually kinda like him. I asked him on a date, not for a fucking booty call.”
“But you both have such stunning booties,” Angel complimented.
You liked him! He felt happy. His little snake body slithered from your thigh and pressed himself against your vulva. It was so very warm there. He rubbed himself against it, spreading it apart with his body.
“Oh my fuck, nonono, uh, little snake, that’s not for you, little snake!”
He stuck his forked tongue out to find and play with your clit. You were so warm and delicious. He wanted to stay right there forever.
“Oh, no! Please stop it!” you picked him up very gently using just your index finger and thumb and moved him to the other side of your thigh. It was still warm, but it was not where he wanted to be. He sulked a little.
“Oh, Charlie’s here. Hey, Charlie! Our favorite little sinner has a snake in their bed.”
“What sinner? What snake?” Charlie obviously took Angel Dust’s phone because you heard her better.
Lucifer froze against your thigh, his tongue nervously darting in and out of his cute little snake mouth as he listened.
“Charlie, I think I have a pet snake now,” you told her.
“Turn on your camera,” Charlie insisted. “What color is this snake?”
Charlie would know it was him.
“I’m naked right now, Charlie.”
“Naked? Turn on your camera or I’m coming over there. I have a feeling I know exactly what snake is in your room.”
Lucifer panicked. Not Charlie. Not his sweet, precious Charlie. She couldn’t know he was in here. He was warm enough now to think clearer.
You reached out for your phone and when you did, Lucifer jumped from the bed. As soon as he hit the floor, he portaled out of there.
He got back to his regular body and fixed his clothes and hair. If he knew his daughter at all, she wouldn’t wait for that video to turn on and she wouldn’t wait to walk to your room.
There was a knock on his door, just as he’d expected, and Charlie was on the other side of it.
“Who is it~” he sang. Charlie always brought Lucifer back to reality. What in the hells had he been doing? Stalking a sinner? Invading their privacy? Obsessing about them like he wasn’t the motherfucking King of Hell? Touching them without their consent?
He opened the door.
“Oh. You’re here,” she was surprised. “I didn’t think you would be here.”
“My darling!” he squeezed her tightly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I just thought- my friend- hm. Apparently we have a new kind of pest problem. Never mind. Sorry to bother you, Dad.”
“No problem, my princess. It’s always good to see you~”
He closed the door behind her and slid down to the floor. The mission was a failure, but at least he learned two things. He would not be having sex that night, and you were still excited for your date.
chapter 4: lucifer reads over your shoulder and you clean up his bloody face
series name: lucifer is a little unhinged and a lot obsessed with you
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11
notes: masturbation, swooning, blushing, pet play, taming, blood (golden), body worship (breasts)
Lucifer hadn’t slept in three days. The first night, he was self-flagellating internally. The second, he tortured himself about how he would have to tell you about what he did in your room. The third, he was too excited about your date to close his eyes for anything except fantasies of you.
The thing about Lucifer was, he sucked at keeping secrets. He learned very early in his relationship with Lilith that the sooner he told the truth, the better off the situation would be. But how was he going to tell you that he did one of the creepiest things imaginable, snuck into your room when you weren’t home, and masturbated on your bed?
All through the night, he envisioned a possible 463 ways in which he could tell you the truth, and only 7 ways in which you could possibly forgive and forget.
He got out of his bed, delirious from self-torture, lack of sleep, and so much masturbation. He got himself spruced up, and went downstairs for coffee and his morning glimpse of your face.
Only, when he got down to the lobby, you were sitting on one of the sofas, reading. The hotel was quiet with a sleepy atmosphere, most sinners not functioning well during mornings.
He swooned as soon as he saw you, and leaned over the banister at the top of the stairs. Little stars and hearts danced around him, and he let out a loud, happy sigh which you heard, because the empty-ish lobby echoed and he was so very dramatic. You looked around until you found the source of the sound, noticed him, and grinned that sweet little smile up at him.
Didn’t you know the effect you had on his being? You waved and he thought he would burn the whole fucking building to the ground if he ever saw you cry.
Well, maybe not that building. It was his daughter’s. But other buildings.
You returned to your book, blushing a little. He portaled himself behind you as quietly as he could, and read over your shoulder.
“Who is my good, little monster?” she fondled the chain that attached to his collar. It was a wonder she could speak to him with such confidence. He was a creature, a literal beast, seven feet tall and bursting with muscle. She was just a tiny imp and had the audacity to treat him like her pet?
He imagined you trying to tame him. He imagined handing you the chains to a collar around his neck. He stayed still behind the sofa to hide his erection from you again. All of the muscles on his body tensed. He let out some kind of sound.
“Hey!” you turned in your seat, turning off your kindle. “A little privacy, please?”
Oh, sweet fuck, your cheeks were pink and he could smell your pheromones and feel the heat rising from your body. You were turned on by your dirty little book, and here he was getting to see what it looked like when you were thinking lewd, inappropriate, taboo thoughts in the middle of a public room where anyone could walk in and see you.
He gripped the back of the sofa, denting the wooden frame. Did you know how deeply arousing you were? Did you have any idea how insane you made him? What was it about your mix of confidence and shyness? He wanted to fuck you senseless and make you tea.
“I thought you said the book club was non-spicy” he teased.
You giggled and turned back away from him.
He bit his lip and drew blood.
“I was trying to read this one by myself, Your Majesty.”
Bellhop, Adam, Heaven, running out of apples, the extinction of ducks with them all going to Heaven, using snakes as symbols for villains in fiction, he recited the things that turned him off the most easily, so he could walk around to the sofa on the opposite side of the one you sat at, without his raging hard-on scaring you away.
“I apologize for reading over your shoulder. Being as old as I am, sometimes my social skills leave a little to be desired.”
“I can’t imagine,” you said to him and your voice sounded like twinkling fairy lights. “Oh- Your Majesty, you’re bleeding,” you pointed out the hole he made in his lip just moments before.
He touched his face and saw the blood on his fingers. He ended up smearing it a lot, looking like he’d just finished feeding from another angel.
You looked around in your backpack for something, pulling out a pair of what looked like clean, folded underwear. A couple of condoms fell out and landed in your lap. You shoved the underwear and condoms back in. You found a pack of tissues somewhere deeper inside.
You leaned over to hand them to him, and he was so certain you were intentionally squeezing your breasts together. It distracted him from the condoms. Your tits looked so swollen in that position, bubbling out from your top, with an alluring deep cleavage beckoning him closer.
He looked from your breasts to your eyes. I’m a gentleman, he reminded himself. I’m small and cute and harmless, he affirmed. “C-can you help me?” he shot you a bit of doe eyes, unintentionally licking the blood from his lip with his tongue as he waited. He quite liked the taste of blood.
When you stepped closer, he scooted to the edge of the sofa to make it easier for you, only you were fairly tall and had to lean over significantly. He locked his eyes on your face, trying to dissociate from looking at your breasts.
Fuck, he missed playing with breasts. He wanted to kiss and lick and suck on and fucking chew on yours until you asked him to stop from the pain. And then he would comfort you and heal and care for you, with cold wet towels and more affection than anyone could take.
“Lick this,” you told him, holding out a clean piece of the tissue for him. “So I can clean up your face.”
He opened his mouth and slid his forked tongue out slowly, enjoying the surprised look on your face as you saw how long his tongue could be. He didn’t even extend it completely.
He licked the tissue slowly, holding your hand as you held it, and bringing it and the tissue closer to his face. He ignored the linty, fuzzy feeling, and licked loops, hard enough so you could feel them in your palm, while looking straight into your eyes. This is how he would eat your sweet little pussy, he was telling you, and he was sure you got the message. Your face was redder than he’d ever seen it. Were your legs actually shaking?
“That’s enough,” you croaked out. “Thank you.” You used the wet tissue to get the rest of his blood off his face.
You looked so fucking pretty, it was driving him insane. The only things missing from your face were streaks of his hot, gold jizz.
“I’m really excited about tomorrow,” you admitted and he could have sworn you fucking quivered.
Oh, he was so sure you were. He was going to fuck you with his tongue and his big, fat cock. You were going to love every moment of it. You might even fall unconscious from the intensity of the pleasure, or from him refusing to stop, even after both of you came over, and over, and over. He leaned forward to cover up his straining dick again. He grinned at you and you smiled, too, as you sat back on the other sofa.
You stopped smiling. You didn’t look scared, but more surprised than he’d seen you thus far. “Your Majesty?”
“Yes, beautiful?”
“Did I do something to make you angry?”
You did if you were planning on using those condoms with someone else. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“I-” you gave him one of those shy smiles that kindled his temperature. “I’ve just been wondering,” you admitted, pointing upwards on your head to indicate you were talking about his horns.
You wondered about him? Of course you did, little darling. What else did you wonder about Daddy? Daddy would answer all of your questions for you and appease all your curiosities.
“Sometimes it seems like your body changes form when you’re having a sudden or intense emotion. I don’t mean to pry! O-or analyze! I just, always wondered. How much control do you have over the changes?” you asked him, seeming, for the first time with him, a little scared.
He took a deep breath and exhaled. In a flash, he was on the same sofa as you, holding your hand. “The changes happen with my feelings,” he confessed. “I wear my emotions on my sleeve, so to speak. But my emotions do not rule me.”
“Oh! Of course! I didn’t mean to imply-”
“I know I can come off a little strange,” he admitted. “But I promise I can be reasoned with.”
“Lucifer, I’m so sorry-”
“You called me Lucifer,” his horns went back inside his head. He beamed, looking up at you, his eyes sparkling.
“Oh,” you took your hand out from his and covered your mouth. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorr-”
“No more apologizing,” he put his hand on your arm. He wanted to expose you to his touches. As much as he loved watching you react to him every single time, he also longed for you to feel comfortable around him.
You nodded and broke him apart again with your smile.
“Come on, Bitch, we’re going to be late,” someone called out to you from somewhere else in the hallway.
“Oh, I have to go,” you hesitated before getting up again and this time seemed to decide it would be appropriate to lean in and kiss his cheek. “I hope you have a good rest of your day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He didn’t get to ask about the condoms, but it was okay. He got to feel those beautiful cock-sucking lips on his cheek and lost himself in the moment. He simply made the condoms disappear from your purse and then immediately regretted having invaded your privacy.
He portaled to his room to masturbate, and struggled to sleep once again.
summary: you catch peter masturbating with your underwear and mildly emotionally torture him by having him recollect how this came to be
notes: sexually inexperienced peter parker, mild pervert peter parker, femdom reader, underwear, scents & smells, masturbation, humiliation, teasing, mild mind games, mild power play, mild cunt worship
“So all I have to do is walk you through it and you’ll forgive me?” Peter asked you as the two of you stood in the laundry room at the end of the apartment you rented with Ned.
“Yup,” you reassured him. “I’ve technically already forgiven you, and this is just going to be really fun for me, but yeah.”
His eyes narrowed a little at you as he thought but then he stepped further into the laundry room.
“Okay, uh, so, I guess I was in here, doing laundry.”
You smiled. “Excellent narration, Peter, I’ve riveted.”
He looked at you. “Am I supposed to also be entertaining as I humiliate myself for you?” he laughed nervously.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just a fly on the wall. Please, continue.” You raised your hands innocently.
“I was doing the laundry, for all of us, might I add, because I was trying to be a good roommate and take some of the workload off the two of you.”
You stayed quiet but your expression gave the look of oh, wow, thank you for everything you do for us, unemployed roommate who is home all day anyway. But with love.
“And when I was doing your laundry, one item of your clothing fell out and I picked it up.”
“An item of clothing?” you asked with your mocking smile and a raised eyebrow. “Please, Peter, for the sake of accuracy, please tell the jury,” you pointed to thin air because it was obviously just you and Peter in the room, “what item of clothing was this?”
He rolled his eyes and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You know what it was.”
You tilted your head. “I thought you were doing this so I’d forgive you.”
“I thought you already forgave me,” he teased you back.
“Maybe I’m changing my mind.” He shouldn’t have.
He looked up and sighed again. “A pair of your underwear fell out of the stack of clothes.”
“A pair of my underwear!” you said loudly, as if you were a dramatic movie lawyer. “And what was the state of this underwear, Mr. Parker?”
You were happy to see he couldn’t keep from smiling. “It was used.”
You tapped your lips with a finger, pretending to think. “Well, yes, it was in my dirty clothes hamper. So it was used. That means I wore it and all of my different odors and bacteria and all sorts of other gross stuff was on it. So that’s where it belonged, correct, in the washing machine? And where did it not belong, Mr. Parker?”
“In my hand.”
“Yes, of course, it did not belong in your hand. And you said it fell from the rest of the pile. So what did you do with it, Mr. Parker? Did you return it to my dirty hamper?” you asked, though you knew the answer.
“No, I did not,” he sighed and allowed you to keep playing your little game, the lightest shade of pink beginning to color his cheeks again. When you’d originally found him, he was magnificently flushed red.
“What did you do with it next?” you got out of your loud lawyer voice and spoke normally now.
“I-” he hesitated.
You didn’t know the details of how the rest of this went. You waited.
“I brought it to my face,” he said.
Your eyebrows raised. “Still in the laundry room?”
“Yes. Almost immediately. Before I even knew what I was doing. I saw them, separated from everything else. I saw the,” he swallowed nervously, looking down at the underwear in his hand, “residue on them. And I was curious about what it was and so I sniffed them.”
You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms for comfort more than defense. You waited.
“I- my high school girlfriend and I weren’t together long. I was curious. I don’t have a lot of experience with- And I didn’t realize what I was doing until a few minutes passed. It almost put me in a trance.”
You stayed quiet, enjoying his retelling, hoping that he would continue to divulge more without having to be playfully bullied or otherwise prompted.
“I got into this headspace of thinking about you and all of the things I didn’t know about you and your body and before I knew it, I wasn’t in the laundry room anymore.”
You stepped away from the doorframe. “Show me,” you encouraged.
He was brave enough to make eye contact with you as he walked past you out of the laundry room. He took your hand in the one of his that wasn’t holding your underwear. As he led you, you started to realize that his recollecting was turning you on and making you wet, which felt like a vicious cycle. You get wet, he plays with your panties, you get wet watching him, when did it end?! He stopped in front of the door to his bedroom.
“My intentions were pure, I thought,” he told you, squeezing your hand a little before letting it go to walk over to his insane computer set-up. “I came back to my room and got on the computer to do some research. I asked some questions. I watched some videos. Truly scientific stuff. What is in the, uh, wetness female bodies produce. I was studying.” His lack of using clinical words really didn’t make it seem like he was studying, but you actually believed him, because he was a delightfully huge nerd.
You removed his pillow from his bed and sat there instead, preparing for the next part of the demonstration.
“But the smell was driving me crazy,” he turned suddenly to look at you. “I came over here, and lied down like this,” he lied down on his bed, his head in your lap looking up at you. “I- I was really excited from the scent of you and the information I was learning, and the combination of the things together.” He looked down, and you followed his gaze. His cock was straining against his pants.
He unzipped his pants and pulled them and his briefs down, to his knees, and then kicked them off the rest of the way. His socks were already off when you came home and found him like this.
He looked up at you like he wanted feedback about what you thought about his cock. You were mesmerized by it. You stared intentionally and licked your lips, hoping it would make him blush even more.
It did.
“What happened next, Peter?” you encouraged, starting to pet him, brushing his hair with your fingers and his skin lightly with your nails. He closed his eyes for a moment, obviously enjoying your touch.
He opened his eyes to look up at you again, looking so fucking submissive. “I pressed your underwear to my face, like this,” he demonstrated holding it balled up against his nose with his hand. “And I was so turned on, I started jerking off, like- like this,” he palmed the head of his cock for you, looking up to gauge your approval.
You bit your lip and let out a delighted sound.
“That was really inappropriate, Peter,” you said; your tone was kind, and your hand caressing his head made him feel safe and cared for. You were judging his actions, but not his character.
“I know,” he admitted, continuing to show you what he’d been doing. “I started to feel so close to you. I wondered about what turned you on, what made you emit the substance, and I got these intrusive thoughts telling me I shouldn’t think about you that way. You’re- my roommate and my friend.” His eyes were glassy and a tear fell down.
You continued to pet him, adding a soft shushing noise, trying to continue to comfort him. “We are very, very good friends,” you told him. “I care about you very much.”
He moved his hand down his cock to stroke himself.
“What else did you think about, Peter?” you whispered to him softly, loving the sight of him like this.
He moaned, arching his back a little as he jerked off for you. “I thought maybe you thought about me when you got-”
“When I got what, Peter?”
“When you got … wet.”
“I do think about you and get wet, Peter. I’m wet right now.”
He shuddered and bit down on your underwear, looking up at you with his teary eyes and his raised brows. His nostrils were flaring as his breathing intensified.
“Do you like the way that tastes, Peter?” you prompted.
He nodded and took the underwear out of his mouth. “I was worried if I licked too much of it, I wouldn’t be able to smell it anymore,” he admitted.
You sighed happily at his confession. “You’re the most adorable little pervert in the world, did you know that?” you chuckled.
He laughed, increasing his speed.
“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, Peter. You can smell me and taste me any time you like,” you told him.
The tears made his eyes look like they were sparkling. He groaned and panted, precum coating the top of his cock.
“Say thank you.”
“Thank you!” he blurted.
He always made you smile and laugh. He was so fucking cute in all his awkward messiness. When you had caught him doing this earlier, your immediate response was to worry that you missed most of the show. That was the real reason you were making him humiliate himself for you now, so you could enjoy every moment of this man lusting pathetically after you.
“I’m going to come,” he said, as if he was asking for permission.
“You’re such a good guy, Peter. You’re a really good roommate and friend. Come for me, Peter,” you felt so powerful, like he would do anything you told him to do.
He whimpered and groaned and finally came, covering his hand, the hot ejaculate dripping down onto the rest of his cock and onto his pelvis.
You leaned over as he was catching his breath and his eyes followed you. You dipped a finger in his jizz and coated your bottom lip with it, then slowly licked it off while he watched. You made a gentle mmmm sound for him.
“I think I’m in love with you,” he confessed, still panting and red.
You thought for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. You’re lonely and inexperienced and I eat so much crap that my pussy tastes like honey.”
He laughed. “Maybe you can say something about how you feel? About me?”
“That’s too easy. I don’t just give love confessions away for free. You’ll have to make me.”
Peter narrowed his eyes a little bit at you again, and to your surprise, he overpowered you in seconds, pulling you down on the bed like you weighed nothing, and pinning you under him.
“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” you chuckled. “I love a little power play. You might be weirdly stronger than me, Peter Parker, but I’ll always win the mind games rounds.”
“How many rounds are there going to be?” he laughed nervously.
You grinned and lifted your head to kiss him.
He melted so quickly against you and you thought you might just win the physical rounds as well.
series name: lucifer is a little unhinged and a lot obsessed with you
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11
romance, intoxication, drunkenness, flirting, fantasies of sexual violence, mention of throwing up, mention of suicide
The next day went on as usual. At night, he headed to the bar for a drink. You came home a little after midnight. You were with a few of your friends, including Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb. He heard your beautiful laughter before he heard your voice or saw you. Your laugh made him feel like he was being kissed by sunlight or surrounded by a million fluffy pillows.
Except now, pillows just reminded him of his shame.
You sat in the barstool beside his, chatting with your friends.
“Good evening, Husk. Good evening, Your Majesty,” you said to them politely. He stammered out a greeting as well.
He imagined just starting a conversation. He imagined putting a hand on your thigh and squeezing. He imagined picking you up by your neck and slamming you into the wall and kissing you. He imagined asking how your day was. He imagined you bouncing on his dick.
“Another~” he instructed Husker.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard to just meet a sweet guy,” he heard you complaining, with a little slur in your speech. “I’ve just been meeting all these creeps lately.”
He was a creep, he gulped.
“I just want some goofy cutie-pie, you know? Some fucking nerd I can enjoy my undead time with. Someone fun and playful, who I can laugh and fuck with.”
“You’re not fucking?” Cherri Bomb asked, judgment in her tone.
He watched you shake your head. “I’m giving off some weird vibe lately. I keep attracting all these guys who think they know me and know what I want and can just do whatever they want to me.”
He felt wild amounts of shame.
“I just want, like, a sweet little puppy, you know? Someone who still remembers to ask before they hurt me, like a gentleman!”
“Gross,” Cherri Bomb and Angel Dust laughed, and you laughed with them. You had a lightness about you sometimes, so quick to smile and have a chuckle. You seemed like you’d forgive someone for breaking into your room and coming on your pillow. You’d understand that he did it because he liked you so very, very much.
Lucifer allowed himself to lean on his elbow on the counter and stare at the back of your head.
“It sounds like you have a type,” Husker encouraged.
“I have some preferences, I guess,” you said, swirling the straw in your drink. “I don’t think I’m being picky.” You stuck your bottom lip out a little and Lucifer wanted nothing more than to suck on that lip until you cried out in pain.
“I feel like I recently talked to someone who seems like what you’re describing.” Husk tried to get Lucifer’s attention. Now that you were talking to Husker, you faced forward a little, so Lucifer was able to see you better and swoon about your pretty face.
He stared at your lips and licked his.
You noticed. You smiled at him. “Are you feeling okay, Your Majesty?” your eyes darted from his face to his drink.
He sat up straight. He would have knocked his drink over if it weren’t for Husk’s reflexes.
“Grea- I feel grea- ehem, I feel great,” he was hoping to present with a dash of charm and mystery, but ended up seeming like he might throw up on himself.
You giggled, which gave him cuteness aggression, so his eyes turned red. Your eyebrows perked up a bit when you saw this change, but you kept smiling.
“His Majesty has always struck me as the type of being who asks before they hurt someone, like a gentleman,” Husk nudged both of you with his words.
“What?” Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Husk. Was this motherfucker insulting him?
Husk inhaled, trying to be patient, nostrils flaring and eyelid twitching. “Your Majesty, this sinner was just saying they would love to meet a gentle man.”
Lucifer was lost.
“Someone sweet and goofy?” Husk was really trying here. “I believe maybe cute was a word they used.”
“Cutie-pie was actually what I said,” you chuckled.
Lucifer’s expression changed from suspicion toward Husk to a sparkling smile toward you. His magic made glitter and a soft pink cloud frame him as you looked at him, which seemed to amuse you so he left it.
“Your Majesty, can you think of a someone like that? Someone this sinner might like?”
Lucifer sounded out these words quietly. “Gentleman, sweet, goofy, cutie-pie,” he tried his best to solve this challenging riddle. What in the hells was the winged cat-man talking about? Lucifer would incinerate any being who matched this description, so he could keep you all to himself.
You sipped on your drink, surprised by and interested in their conversation, your eyes darting between them.
Husk facepalmed. “Your Majesty, do you think maybe you meet this criteria?”
You coughed a little, surprised.
“Me?” Lucifer asked.
Husk handed Lucifer an obnoxiously tall, cold glass of water. “Yes, you, Your Majesty.”
Lucifer turned to look at you, flashing his teeth. “I am those things,” he meant it to come out as a question, but it sounded like more of a statement.
You had trouble not smiling about all of this. Your cheeks started to ache from it, and you looked so precious as you rubbed on them. You were being so friendly, but there was always that little shyness that made Lucifer terrified of scaring you away. “Your Majesty, are you saying you’re exactly the type of person I’m looking for? Puppies and rainbows, with a little bit of fire?”
Were you flirting with him? Were you referencing what he said to you the day prior in front of the hotel?
You swiveled your seat toward him a little, your long, crossed legs enticing him.
His heart started to race.
He remembered what he did in your bedroom, and hated himself.
“Yes, I believe so, sinner,” he said to you, having wanted to flirt back, but instead sounding like he was insulting you.
“Well, then, Your Majesty,” your beautiful face was somehow actually causing him pain. He felt like your attractiveness was penetrating his chest somehow, stabbing him deep inside. He felt strangeness in his stomach. He felt like he was forgetting how to breathe.
“Would you do this sinner the honor of letting them take you on a date?” you finished.
He pointed to you and back at himself, slowly, then quickly, maybe a dozen times. “Wouldn’t-wouldn’t it be me taking you?” He wasn’t implying anything about age or gender, but definitely referred to his status and money.
“It would have been, if you had asked first,” heavenly fucks, you were definitely flirting with him, and you were asking him on a date!
You tilted your head and made a darling expression. He may have been goofy and drunk, but he knew what it meant when someone tilted their head and looked at at him like that. You wanted his dick, he thought confidently.
He wanted to grab you by your hair and shove his entire forked tongue into your mouth and slide it down your throat. Sweet and goofy and very respectful and oh, so, innocent, that’s me, he thought.
You put your hand on his leg and he immediately got a hard-on, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He used his magic to twirl all the barstools around while he tucked his cock into the waistband of his pants and fixed himself up.
“What the fuck,” you and the other people sitting at the bar exclaimed. Lucifer looked around like he, too, thought a very strange thing just happened.
“Sorry, everyone,” Husk sighed. “The chairs do that sometimes, I guess. We’re working on it.” He sounded like he wanted to kill himself.
You settled yourself and didn’t seem like you were about to touch him again so he took your hand and placed it back where you had it. “Yes,” he told you.
Your grin was insufferable. Your lips soft and welcoming. He wanted to dig his sharp teeth into them and rip them off your face. Except no, he totally didn’t. He wanted to taste your lips so badly, his tongue darted out just a little, and he actually whimpered and hoped you didn’t hear.
“Excellent; when would be best for you?”
“Tomorrow!” he almost shouted.
Husk coughed loudly to cover up the cringe of it.
“I mean, the day after tomorrow,” Lucifer corrected. “I- I’m very busy on such short notice, of course.” He imagined flaying Husker in a dark, hidden dungeon. He imagined making a coat out of him for you to wear.
“The day after tomorrow it is,” you finished your drink and stood up from your chair. You seemed to hesitate as if you wanted to say more, but instead you tugged on Cherri and Angel’s arms and left the bar area with them, walking up the stairs.
He watched you walk the entire way. Your friends looked back and obviously told you he was looking, so he tried to look away, but looked again maybe three more times, and during one of those, you’d looked back, caught him staring, and waved with your charming little grin.
You precious fucking angel, too good for this Hell, he would destroy anyone who so much as mildly inconvenienced you, he ranted a little maniacally in his head.
“And you,” he was in his full demonic form now, pinning Husk to the wall behind the bar, lifting him effortlessly from the ground.
Husk couldn’t speak because he also couldn’t breathe.
Lucifer returned to normal and set the cat-man down. He fixed Husk’s collar and then fixed his own with a smile. “Good work, my man. We did it. Good job, us,” he said, patting himself on the back, and danced a little up the stairs.
chapter 2: lucifer tries really hard not to stalk you
series name: lucifer is a little unhinged and a lot obsessed with you
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11
ao3 tags: obsession, stalking, fantasies of violence, fantasies of murder, thoughts of breeding, smell kink, blushing, hand kissing, fantasizing, romance
Charlie tried to keep Lucifer busy. Idle hands and all that. She often sent him out on this errand or another. It gave him something to do in between looking for you, thinking about you, playing with his duckies or his dick, and watching his soaps.
On his way out of the hotel that day, he was lucky enough to see you ahead of him. You were walking in the same direction he was, on his way to the bakery. He checked on his self-imposed rules: no following you outside of the hotel. But this didn’t count as following, since you just happened to be on his route, he reassured himself.
He watched you texting and walking, which made him nervous. You bumped into someone and apologized and then put your phone away. He wanted to set that sinner on fire, but his curse prevented him from actually killing the lucky little shit.
He watched your hips sway as you walked; the sexiest metronome. He imagined holding those hips as he buried himself deep inside you. He imagined you holding a toddler, resting them easily on yourself because of those wonderful hips. And maybe the toddler looked like him, a little.
Where were you going? What were you going to do when you got there?
He reached the bakery and stood outside it. Maybe, he thought, maybe he could just stand there and see where else you went. He couldn’t follow you but there was no harm in just seeing, right? Of watching you until you became too small to see?
You seemed to disappear through a door on the next block. His heart was pounding. Which door was it? He forced himself to walk into the bakery, shoulders slumped and mood eviscerated. He picked up the order for Charlie and stepped back into the disappointing world of you-less-ness. He took a deep breath and turned back in the direction of the hotel.
I’m a good being, I’m a good being, I’m not a stalker or a creep, he kept reciting to himself even though he didn’t believe it.
He could look it up on his phone, right? Just- just a little look on the map to see what kinds of things were on that next block? That wouldn’t count as stalking, would it? He shook his head. He couldn’t learn any more things about you without you sharing them yourself. He shoved his phone deep into his pocket and started to walk home, a little seed of anger planted in himself.
“Your Majesty!” He heard you call out to him and he turned, his grin almost impossibly wide, taking up most of his face. Glitter, sparkles, and little duckies with stars or hearts in their eyes surrounded him when he saw you, his mood immediately lifting.
You slowed down when you got closer. “Oh, silly me,” you said, embarrassed. “I was going to offer to help you carry all this stuff, but I see you’re just floating it beside you.
He looked at the items and then back at you. “I tend not to need a lot of physical help. I could even just portal it to the hotel, but I like to live my days slowly, since I’ve been alive for so long. No need to rush.” Fuck, was he overexplaining? No, this was the perfect length of an answer, wasn’t it? “But I could use some company on my walk back, if you wouldn’t mind!” he added at the end.
You were so fucking pretty, it devastated him. It must have been so hard for you to be down in hell with all of those degenerates, looking the way you did. He loved your eyes, from their shape to the color of your irises. He loved your lips and the shape and size of your mouth, especially the size. He could so easily picture whether or not you’d struggle to take his cock.
He loved your nose. He even fucking loved your ears. You were the most beautiful being he’d seen since his wife and he was obsessed with the look of you. He wondered how much longer he could stare at you before it got weird.
“So, um,” you said, and started to lead the way to the hotel.
He got a whiff of the smell of you and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, eyelids fluttering and nostrils flaring. He followed you and tried to get himself to look normal or as normal as he possibly could. He smiled a lot.
“Where were you off to?” he asked, frustrated that it was still the most invasive question on his mind. “I saw you down the street over there.”
You laughed, embarrassed. “There’s a little bookstore and I actually joined the fucking book club, if you can believe it.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he was genuine. Lucifer read once or twice in his life. He could understand why people would want to read together.
“I guess the theme. They only read romances.”
“Oh, like erotica?”
You blushed, covered your mouth with your hand, and shook your head. “Nonononono, it’s non-spicy, as they call it. Smut or spicy would be the more sexy stuff. I could not read those with a group, could you imagine?”
Oh, he could imagine. He pictured you and him lying together in bed, cozy under the covers, you reading out loud from your kindle, all sorts of erotic fantasies. The two of you would get aroused together if the book included your shared cup of kink. He would caress your thigh the whole time, waiting for the right moment to slide his hand to your cunt and pleasure you while you read something you particularly enjoyed. He would act out scenes with you, on your more daring days. He swooned about the idea.
“Lucifer?” you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.
Fuck, he’d missed out on an actual, in real time moment with you because he was fantasizing about you. He couldn’t let himself do that again.
“I was just thinking, I could stand to read more. I was trying to remember the last book I read, and I’m sure it was a children’s book for Charlie.”
“Oh, that’s so cute. I bet Charlie was the most precious little kid.” You didn’t recommend he join the club with you, which made him deflate. It would have been a bold invitation, he realized. You had clearly been uncomfortable with having joined the book club in the first place.
“She sure was. She takes after her mother now, but when she was little, she was all me!”
There was a heavy moment that passed between you, and Lucifer wondered if it was because he shouldn’t have mentioned his wife, er, ex-wife? Separated wife? Wife who abandoned him once when Charlie was little, and again nearly a decade ago?
“I’ve heard that she gets her inventiveness from you,” you shared.
That made it feel like his heart was swelling. To have one of Charlie’s many wonderful traits attributed to him by you made him feel like crying. He wiped at his eyes a bit. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry. I could not be more proud of her.”
“Wow, that’s really sweet. I never had that kind of relationship with my family,” you admitted. Oh, fuck, he was actually getting your lore.
“That’s awful,” he stopped the two of you walking and took both of your hands in his, to comfort you and to have an excuse to touch you and spend more time with you. “I’m really sad to hear that. No matter what kind of sinning you’ve done, I’m sure you didn’t deserve whatever bad hand you were dealt.”
“That’s so nice, thank you,” you squeezed his hands back.
He brought yours to his lips and kissed the backs of both of them. He didn’t care if it was weird. He was the King of Hell. Couldn’t he be a little weird sometimes? He held your hands against his face with his.
“You’re, like, a really sweet being, aren’t you?” you asked him, but it sounded more like you were asking yourself.
He worried that he wasn’t presenting with enough edge. He let his eyes change color and his horns come out, complete with the flame between them. “Sure,” he chuckled. “I’m just puppies and rainbows.” He hoped you seeing a bit of his other form would remind you of just how sweet he sometimes wasn’t.
He enjoyed the awe in your eyes as you looked at his flame and he stood still with you while you looked at his horns and then down to his eyes. You smiled and took your hands from his. “That’ll teach me to imply someone can have just one dimension to them,” you bit down on your lip a little shyly. “I hope I didn’t offend-”
“Not at all. Thank you for the walk and your kind words about my daughter and me,” he tried to recover, hoping he didn’t make you uncomfortable or royally fuck this up.
He opened the doors with his magic and the two of you separated in the lobby. You gave him a cute little wave goodbye as you walked up the stairs.
He woke up earlier than everyone at the hotel. First, to jerk himself off to memories of you. Like the true gentleman he was, he mostly focused on memories of your face. He imagined coming all over it, slapping it with his dick, and wrapping his tail around that pretty little neck while you moaned, mouth open, lips wet and pouty and glistening. Sometimes he imagined tears smearing your makeup. Sometimes he imagined you staring deeply into his eyes.
Next, he’d get himself shiny and splendid, to spend the entire morning sitting in the lobby staring at the stairs. He did this just to get his morning glimpse of you. He sipped on some coffee he made to perfection. He engaged passively in nearby conversations.
He couldn’t recall when all this had started. Maybe it was the first time you laughed at one of his jokes. Maybe it was the first or third or fifteenth time you complimented him. You’re looking dapper today, Your Majesty. Thank you for helping Charlie with that thing last night. Wow, you’re really strong. You were so precious and polite; you never called him anything except Your Majesty.
Maybe it was when you smiled that comforting way that melted his insides. Maybe it was the first time your sexy little ass made his cock throb. Maybe it was the time he started to remember your name.
It had been going on for months, now. Whenever he wasn’t blessedly distracted by his daughter or his soap operas, he was fucking you ruthlessly or tenderly, or anywhere in between, in his brain.
After your daily exchange of good mornings, if he wasn’t lucky enough to join in on whatever conversation you were having, he typically didn’t get to see you again until the evenings.
The afternoons were, therefore, the most excruciating. You were always doing something different and though he was technically stalking you, he refused to follow you anywhere it didn’t make sense for him to be. Seeing you in public areas of the hotel made sense; after all, he lived there. Anywhere else, he would not allow himself to venture. He refused to break these boundaries of basic common decency. He may have destroyed you and put you back together in his mind, but in reality, you deserved the best of his behavior.
“I’m going to regret saying this,” Husk started, on this lonely evening during which Lucifer drank apple martinis at the bar. “But maybe it’s time you try to interact with them?” Lucifer had gotten drunk and confessed his feelings about you to Husker, who he thought would only nod. Lucifer was surprised to hear the ex-overlord acknowledge it at all.
“What’s the use?” Lucifer pressed a cheek against the bar top. It was hard to reason with him when he was drinking; not that he was much of a reasonable being any other time.
“I’ve seen them looking at you, Your Majesty, and I think you have a chance.”
Lucifer sat up quickly, a napkin pressed to his cheek. “Looking at me?”
Husk nodded, washing a glass. “More like undressing you with their eyes, uh, Your Majesty.”
Lucifer’s eyebrows furrowed as he wondered if Husker was being disrespectful. Then he melted in his chair a little. “If only I could be so lucky,” he sighed wistfully.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, you might not be seeing this situation clearly. You are a decently attractive man, and powerful. I believe the subject of your affections might even feel intimidated by you.”
“Bah!” Lucifer waved a hand dismissively. “Intimidated? By little old me?” He recalled the vile things he did to you in his mind.
Husk nodded. “Many of the sinners still fear and respect you, Your Majesty. I believe this sinner thinks of you quite highly.”
Drunkenly and sadly, Lucifer decided not to wait to watch you come home that night. Instead, he dissociated on his walk upstairs and when he came out of his trance, he was standing at your door.
He blinked, then looked around to make sure no one was watching.
He put his ear to your door to make sure you weren’t in there, and then he broke one of his many rules to avoid being creepy, and he portaled himself inside.
The smell of you was everywhere. He could have inhaled it for hours. He smelled the sweater you had hanging on a hook on the door. He walked over to your dresser and took out your clean clothes, but they smelled of laundry detergent so they weren’t enough, and he shoved them back inside.
He lied face-first on your bed and inhaled, his blood rushing to his cock. He ground against your bed, whimpering and groaning. He hugged your pillow tightly to his chest, and then, face fully flushed and mortified by his own behavior, he slid your pillow between his legs and starting humping it.
He covered his face, even though he was alone in the room. The thoughts of how pathetic he was were quiet in comparison to the incessant erotic ones he thought about you.
He imaged you lying on this bed with this exact same pillow, thinking about him. He fantasized about your wet cunt aching for him. He whined as your fully clothed body was becoming more and more naked in his mind. He pictured you rubbing your crotch against this pillow, and squirming just as he was squirming. He acted out the scene. He pictured you grasping at your own flushed face, pushing a finger in your own mouth, the same way he was doing, except you didn’t have those sharp teeth to be careful about; you could easily bite down without hurting yourself. He thought about you whispering his name as you touched yourself thinking about him, his hips thrusting more insistently as he did.
He initially fought his urge to whip his dick out, which denied him of his orgasm for an aching moment, but the impish side of him won out. He pulled out his cock and stroked it, now kneeling on the bed, and he came thick strips of his delicious cum all over your pillow.
What the fuck was wrong with him? He groaned. He watched the golden ejaculate slowly soak into your pillow and stain it.
He looked at the scene of his shame and imagined you licking and sucking on the pillow, tasting his jizz, and he was hard again. He jerked himself off slowly while he looked around your room, searching for dirty clothes to smell.
He checked under your bed. There was a pair of jeans that wouldn’t be enough. There was a sock and a scrunchie. He was not lucky enough to find a freshly used pair of your underwear conveniently laid out for him to bask in.
He was so fucking disgusting, he told himself, but the alcohol made it easier not to hold onto those kinds of thoughts.
He heard your voice in the hallway and panicked, not certain what to do next. He snapped his fingers to clean your pillow spotless, and put it back where he had found it. He zipped his pants. As you unlocked your door, he hesitated, staring at it for a moment, wanting to see you in his drunken stupidity. He shook his head and portaled to his room where he struggled to fall asleep for hours, kept awake by his overpowering feelings of shame.
we’re trying out a different avenger for five minutes; bucky/reader; gn!reader dresses hyper femme because i felt like it; reader has a personality and is confident; reader is newest avenger; age gap; fluff; cuddling; flirting
summary: bucky fell asleep in a random office in stark tower. you, the newest avenger, put his jacket on him to keep him warm. somehow the two of you end up sleeping, cuddling, and flirting on the couch together
11:37PM
You shouldn’t have come.
You knew there wasn’t much you could contribute. You weren’t one of the science Avengers, nor were you a military or assassin Avenger. You had a special power, but you barely used it. At this point, you kind of figured they kept you around mostly because of your pretty face and kind words. Most of them were so traumatized and lonely.
There were folks looking through files in one room, planning an attack or heist or something in another, and of course the really smart ones were in the lab doing gods knew what. You tried to help wherever you could, but it was getting late and you were getting bored.
You passed by a small office that looked warm and inviting. You peaked inside and one of the military Avengers was in there, resting his eyes. It was the one with the metal arm who was, like, in WWII or something? He had a cute name for someone so rugged and scary-looking.
You walked inside and looked around for a blanket. You’d always seen folks on TV putting blankets on sleeping people. You assumed it was something about body temperature lowering when you slept, but really, wasn’t it just a cute as fuck gesture? Something to show the viewership that the person being tucked in was cared for, and the person doing the tucking was kind?
You found a leather jacket on a chair in the office and you placed it on top of him. You looked down at your masterpiece. Person Cared About, you would call it, if it were a painting.
He looked so cozy. You decided to sit down on the couch with him. You made sure the volume was off on your phone and scrolled through social media.
And before you knew it, you, too, were asleep.
12:41AM
Bucky didn’t know where he was when he woke up. A small office. His leather jacket was on top of him. You were asleep on the couch beside him. Oh, he was in Stark Tower. He came in this room to rest his eyes. What were you doing there with him?
You must have put the jacket on him, he realized. He wasn’t sure if he thought it was sweet, or if he felt annoyed by it. He took the jacket off and was about to stand when you slid against the back of the couch and dropped your head in his lap.
Well, shit.
He sighed and looked down at you. He tried to recall what he knew about you. You were some sort of alien or mutant, or something. You didn’t have any combat skills. You were more like a civilian who happened to be useful sometimes.
He hadn’t noticed before that you were pretty. Your hair was up in a ponytail. Your clothes were ridiculous; he didn’t even try to make sense of them. Too much color; too bright. You definitely wore too much make-up, and was that glitter? He scoffed. But you did look cute nuzzled into his thigh like that. He almost wanted to reach out and pet you.
He was still holding his jacket with one hand. He rolled his eyes and decided to return your unwarranted favor and placed it on you as you slept. There; that at least covered all of the noise of your outfit.
1:58AM
When you opened your eyes again, you were still in that little office in Stark Tower, on that couch with Bucky, only now you were somehow snuggled up together under his jacket?
How could this have come to be? you wondered. Bucky was on his back on the couch and you were on your side, but barely, because most of your body was on top of his. Your face was pressed into his shoulder. You had an arm over his chest. One of your legs was completely over and in between his, his thick, muscular thigh between both of yours. How had the two of you gone from sleeping sitting up, to this cozy, warm, comforting, phenomenal position?
Uh oh, and he smelled really good. You closed your eyes and nuzzled into him a little. Fuck, the life of an Avenger was lonely. For all the time you were spending with these people, you were touch starved as fuck. And so many of them kept calling you Little Avenger, which made you feel all of three feet tall, which was less cute and less infantilizing and more dysmorphia-inducing. Somehow you and this man ended up sleeping on a couch together, and you were going to enjoy it.
1:59AM
When he woke up again, it was from a nightmare; eyes immediately open and darting around the area of the room. He exhaled. Still at Stark Tower. You were lying on top of him, obviously awake, and nuzzling into his chest. You let out a happy little sigh. He was frozen; his heart rate up.
You noticed. You turned your head to look up at him.
“Hey, sleeping buddy,” you whispered. “Do you want me to get off from you?”
“I’d like to know how you got onto me,” he responded, hoping you didn’t notice that he intentionally didn’t answer your question. One of his legs was between yours; his face flushed a bit realizing. He had his arm around you, under the leather jacket. What part of you was he touching with his hand? Your waist.
“You must have pulled me down or something. I’m so small and weak. I didn’t stand a chance.” Were you flirting with him?
Neither of you seemed to have any intention of getting up.
“How old are you?” he had to make sure. A man in his 100’s could never be too careful.
“I’m [your age]; how old are you?” you bat eyes fake eyelashes at him.
“109,” he tried not to smile.
“Oh shit,” you laughed. “Well, I can safely say I’ve never slept with someone [age difference] years older than me before.”
“That’s very quick math. They still teach math, do they?”
“They do but we don’t have to use the abacus anymore, grandaddy.”
“Funny.”
The two of you heard footsteps and Bucky immediately rose from the couch, lifting you up with him but leaving you behind as he stepped away. Whoever it was in the hallway ended up turning in a different direction, but the spell was already broken.
You sat up on the couch and slipped his leather jacket on, acting like it was yours even though it was clearly not your size.
“Are you just taking my jacket?” he asked.
“Your jacket? I found this,” you were a cheeky little one, weren’t you? You flirted with the arrogance only someone your age could pull off; there was an innocence to it, somewhere in the belief that you could just banter with someone who had been through war and torture and all other pains and back. You looked like a doll come to life. What did you know about rejection and tragedy? He judged you, and then he judged himself. He didn’t know a thing about you. Why was he thinking like this?
You stood up and modeled the jacket for him. It literally had a pin on the front with his last name. “Isn’t it so totally me? I mean, it’s vintagecore, you know? Epic. Looks like something totally out of history.”
“I’m pretty sure Pepper got it for me from Macy’s two months ago,” he crossed his arms.
“Oh. Well. Well then I want nothing to do with it,” you took it off and handed it to him, though it actually took you some effort to hold the weight of it with one hand. It was so obvious that you struggled that he had to cover his mouth so you didn’t see him smile.
“You can have it, I guess,” you told him, hugging yourself now, suddenly feeling very cold without a jacket even though you were indoors. Stark kept it cold as fuck in the Tower.
He wanted to hold you.
“Anyway, um, don’t you go around telling everyone we slept together. A gentleman doesn’t nap and tell,” you walked past him, touching his arm as you did.
“Let me know if you ever want to do it again,” he heard himself say.
You turned around, surprised and already out the door. You smiled, and then nodded, before strolling away.
summary: lucifer wakes you up and gives you multiple orgasms because he’s perfect nbd??
notes: lucifer/afab!reader; no pronouns or y/n for reader; lucifer is a sweetheart service!top; oral sex f!receiving; cunnilingus; fingering; g-spot stimulation; clit play; body worship; service kink; sex from behind; vaginal sex; making love; sweet and hot sex; reassurance; just generally sweet love-making
The two of you slept in a naked embrace, so when he woke up, rock hard and eager for you, it was easy to rouse you from your slumber. All he had to do was shift, and all of your body became aware that he was awake and he wanted something.
“Darling … darling …” he encouraged you to open your eyes.
“Luci, please, let me sleep.”
He smiled. He couldn’t believe how much sleep a being could possibly need. You were always so tired. “Darling, I want you so badly. I’ll be so, very gentle. I won’t even touch your clit. I just want to languidly feast on you for an hour.” He thought his request was more than reasonable.
In your stupor, you sighed and took off the covers, spreading your legs for him. After just a few days of being together, you’d quickly learned that not giving Lucifer what he wanted was only going to make him beg for it more.
“Please don’t make me regret this,” you whispered, closing your eyes again.
Lucifer slithered down between your legs and got himself into a comfortable position. He wrapped your legs loosely around his neck and slid his hands under your ass.
He started by slowly, with the pressure of a caress, licking the outside of you with his long, beastly, forked tongue. He liked to lick in the direction of your stubble, and on his way back he would trace little kisses along your skin, sometimes sucking on you or nibbling. You regulated your breathing and relaxed your muscles. Lucifer had done incredible things to you with his tongue and mouth already, so clearly having had millennia of practice, so the trust was already built between you.
Because his tongue was so unnaturally lengthy, his licks were long and soothing, like a massage. Once he determined you were relaxed enough for him to keep going, he slid his tongue just a little bit deeper, licking slow streaks along your labia. He licked between the inside and outside folds and back again, careful not to miss a spot of you. You hummed a little from the gentle pleasure.
He kept his promise of not touching your clit for the first hour. He intentionally made detours around it. You couldn’t believe his patience. When you were still alive, you rarely had a positive experience like this. You struggled to believe this could be real.
Then you felt just a little more pressure from him, and he was inside you. The motions of his tongue remained the same, except now he entered you and left your cunt with every, slow, deliberate lick. Your hips started to move with his rhythm. He took one hand from your ass and by the shifting of the bed you could tell he started to touch himself. His strokes were long and slow and reminded you that it wasn’t only his tongue that was lengthy.
Tension was starting to build inside you. The noises coming from you were more insistent. He tried to settle you by slowing down his motions even more, but this only made you move your hips against him faster. You could feel his laugh against you, pleased by the conflict of you trying to hurry him along.
“Lucifer,” you started saying his name. You knew that drove him crazy. He tried to ignore you, but you could feel the speed of his own strokes increase. You slid a hand down to touch your clit, but he was more alert than you realized; he used his other hand to stop you.
“Lucifer!” you wouldn’t beg. You refused. You felt like he was teaching you a lesson for doubting him. That arrogant son of god. But did it count as arrogance when he was actually good at everything he did?
He wasn’t cruel. As you both felt the walls of your cunt starting to contract around his tongue, he sped up his gestures. He started fucking you more intentionally with his tongue. He shoved his face as hard against you as he could and the pressure of it was heavenly against you. He released your hand and his cock so he could hold you tightly as you had your first orgasm of the morning, clamping around his tongue.
You came, shaking and surprised.
But he wasn’t satisfied with your orgasm. He licked outside of you again, this time not avoiding your clit. He gave it gentle little sucks between pressing his tongue against it with just the amount of pressure you taught him you liked. Your hands were on your face and neck; you were trying to regulate your excitement with the cold of your hands against the heat of the rest of you.
He slid three of his fingers inside you, knowing they would be just about the girth of his cock. He fucked you slowly, but roughly, creating friction against how wet he made you. He lifted his head up for a moment. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
You nodded almost imperceptibly, biting down on your hand. Need he even ask? You were muttering to yourself and clawing at your own body or at anything your hands could grip on the bed. Your back arched to an extent of which you didn’t know you were capable. You were reacting. He played you like an instrument and you sang for him. Yes, okay, oh gods, Lucifer, shit, fuck, mmhmm, repeat in varying orders.
You came again, this time tightly around his fingers. His reaction to this was to reach inside of you to find that sweet g-spot and rub his three fingertips against it. He tried not to overstimulate your clitoris, taking long breaks from licking it or sucking on it. He rubbed hard against the spot inside of you until you came again.
“Okay, okay, okay, that’s enough,” you were muttering, tears streaming from your eyes.
He slid his fingers very slowly out of you as you almost convulsed from the lasting pleasure of your orgasms. On his knees, he gently flipped you over. You continued trying to catch your breath, shivering and crying. He kissed the top of your head, caressing your back, praising you for breathing deeply and relaxing. He encouraged you to cry. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under your stomach, and another one just in case; and then decided even a third one might make you more comfortable.
You trusted him with your life now, high from the pleasure he gave you. You rested your face on your folded arms and stuck your ass out as high in the air as you could, your legs so fucking weak. The pillows were a help, because you weren’t sure you could kneel by yourself without falling over.
You heard him unwrap a condom and toss the wrapper aside. You felt him roll it on as the bed swayed with him.
You felt him rub just the head of his cock against you for a while. He did this with one hand while stroking himself with the other. He was buying you time. He rubbed against the outside of you and it was superb. He coated his entire wrapped cock with your liquid, sliding it between your folds until the head pushed against your clit. Your cunt was still contracting, though it didn’t have anything to contract around, and he enjoyed the vibration of it.
“Reassure me,” he requested. “Tell me something sweet.” He leaned down to kiss your shoulder. He pushed your hair away and tilted your head so he could kiss your neck. You enjoyed the feeling of his body against your back.
“I’ve never had so much fun with someone in my life, living and dead,” you told him.
He sighed happily, continuing to rub himself against you. “That makes me really happy.” He nuzzled his face against your skin, kissing your neck and shoulder in between soft moans. “Let me know when you want me again.”
“Now.”
He slid his thick, wet cock right into you, as deep as you could take. He started pumping himself into you, gentle and slow, until he felt you start to fuck him back. The two of you worked off of each other. Your cunt was throbbing, and the entire experience felt like one prolonged orgasm.
He fucked you faster and harder and rougher until he came and when he did, you felt another spasm of pleasure gripping him hard and pulsating against him. What was that now, five orgasms? You felt delirious.
He slid out of you. Your knees buckled and your head was free of thoughts. Just a gentle humming remained.
He rested on top of you for a while, catching his breath and checking on you. He kissed whatever parts of your skin were near his mouth. You sighed and cooed happily. He rose off the bed to take off the condom, and grabbed a nearby towel to wipe himself off.
He grabbed another, smaller one and came over to start cleaning you up. He checked in with you if you were ready to be touched again, and you nodded. He took such good care of you. He took the pillows out from under you, one by one.
He flipped you over and lifted you so you could rest your head on a pillow, and laid down beside you, pulling the bedcovers back over you both. You scooted closer and turned on your side to tuck yourself in beside him, your forehead pressing into his arm.
“Do you regret it?” you could hear him smiling.
“Hm?”
“You told me not to make you regret it.”
It felt good to laugh, like it was easing something in your muscles. “I will never give you a hard time for waking me up ever again,” you promised.
He yawned. “That’s good, because I already miss the taste of you, so when I wake up from my nap, I plan on doing that all over again.”
summary: pepper and tony, married and polyamorous, decided it was time for you and tony to make your relationship official; like any normal person, you have a crush on a cartoon character from a musical tv show; pepper helps tony plan a really interesting first date and first gift for you based on this interest of yours
poly/ENM tony/pepper; poly/ENM tony/reader; reader/broadway actor; f!reader she/they; x-man!reader; avenger!reader; reader is cute and squeaky; lots of mentions of squirting; reader and tony call each other “babe”; crude-ish reference to a hysterectomy; ejaculate; doggy style; aftercare; x-men sads; joke about cuck chair; broadway; musicals
You’d been fucking Tony for years now, sporadically, no big deal. A dozen or so times, even Pepper was involved. It was something everybody knew about. The other Avengers, obviously, were the first; and then very quickly, because of Tony’s popularity, the rest of the world.
You had gained some popularity in your own right, being the newest Avenger. You were technically a mutant X-man, but your powers weren’t as helpful to their teams. You were a little bit of a telepath, not even able to read minds or necessarily control others, but your flirting worked as a bit of a truth serum, so the Avengers kept you around to play Good Cop whenever they needed.
Every couple of months or so, gossip rags would try to start some trouble for y’all. They would try to make it seem like Tony was cheating, which Pepper would always destroy by bringing one of her many lovers with her to events. The two of them spoke openly and often about their longtime engagements with ethical nonmonogamy. There was very little that stirred them, and therefore little that stirred you, about the gossip. Besides, y’all were Avengers first, celebrities last.
Something that did get Tony a little weirded out would be whenever fans, not the media, would start talking about how good you seemed to be for Tony. Yes, Pepper was amazing for his business and philanthropy, but the real-person fandom narrative was that you were the one who kept him focused on his interests. At some point, Tony had mentioned in an interview how the two of you often shared your hobbies with each other. You would practice your singing and force him to watch musicals, while he felt most inspired to build and create when you were around.
In the past when the fandom was popping off about how good you were for Tony, that was when Tony suddenly had a lot of work to do. He didn’t let you know when he was checking in on you, even though you knew he was still checking in on you. All of the sudden, you were interacting more with Pepper, as if she wanted to reassure you that everything was okay. It was really sweet when she did that for you, but you didn’t necessarily need it. You had a life of your own. You had friends and other lovers. Your life didn’t revolve around Tony Stark.
This week was one of those Fandom Weeks, as you called it, but something was different.
While you were skimming social media for all of the adorable fans’ thoughts, feelings, and hopes about your love life, Tony showed up unannounced. He knocked on your balcony door before letting himself in. You liked how he acted like he didn’t own the place. After the first time he saw the hovel in which you had previously lived, he got you a much better apartment, and you took it without a second thought. Who fucked a billionaire and denied themselves a free apartment? Not you, that’s for sure.
“What’s up, babe?” you asked him, before the two of you exchanged the kind of kiss that did sometimes make you wonder if he saw you as a mistress, because how could the heat still be so palpable between you after all this time?
“Oh, I was just in the area, and wanted to see my babe,” he strolled in, hands on your waist for a moment, and walked over to the kitchen.
“Okay, Mr. In the Area,” you told him, and plopped back down on the couch. He poured the two of you some wine that he kept in your apartment. You literally never drank without him. “Oh, we’re feeling fancy tonight?”
He handed you your glass in exchange for your phone, which you gave him reluctantly. He put it, face down, on the table. He absolutely hated when you were on your phone around him, and it always made you chuckle.
You started sipping at the drink, your long legs sprawled out across the couch. You loved the way he looked at you. You arched your back a little, pretending to need to get settled, and you could see his heartbeat in his throat. The tension between the two of you was electric.
He hadn’t sat down yet, so you prepared yourself for a monologue. Tony typically didn’t sit down until he was at least somewhat finished talking. The wine helped you get through it just as much as it helped him.
Somewhere along the way, he finally said something along the lines of: “and so the missus and I have been wondering if maybe you and I start changing the narrative.”
“That was a beautiful speech, babe, now what the fuck are you talking about?” you downed the rest of your drink.
“You and me, babe. On paper. Tony Stark and the other sexiest Avenger, officially a couple.”
You blinked and sat up straighter. “Tony, babe, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
Tony was incapable of blushing, but his expression was one of the cuter ones you imagined only you and Pepper got to see. “Like I said, Pepper thinks it would be good P.R. and-”
“Anthony Edward Stark, enough with the bullshit,” you moved your hand as if to swat away his words. “I can see the Pepper of it all, but where’s the Tony in this? How would this be any different than what we already have going?”
Tony held your legs up, settled himself down as close to you as possible, and placed your legs over his lap. The way he touched your skin made you feel like a subject, not an object, of desire. Tony had a way of handling you that never let you forget that you’d been fucking and would definitely fuck again.
“Okay, babe, cards on the table. I think I love you,” he finally said, looking at his thumb that was rubbing on your thigh.
You put a hand on your chest, needing a moment to let the shock subside. “You’re not joking,” you said more to yourself than to him.
He inhaled and exhaled. “You know me, always the picture of sincerity,” he tried to relax himself with joking, you imagined.
“Tony,” you whispered, getting off your ass and onto his lap, your arms loosely around his neck. You kissed him and then remembered you should probably say it back. “I love you, too, you absolute mess, oh my gods, I can’t believe this!”
He laughed through your next kisses, and there were many, many of them.
“Did you really Anthony Edward me?” he asked through some of them, his hands exploring your body as if they hadn’t so many hundreds of times already.
“From now on, that’s what I’m going to call you all the time. Oh, well, my boyfriend Anthony Edward said, yadda yadda, you know, when I go to my weekly side piece parties. Oh, the ladies are going to be so jealous!” you joked. “I guess no more side piece parties for me! Now it’s going to be official girlfriend parties only!”
He exhaled again and settled more easily into the couch. “Okay. Now that that’s out of the way, Pepper got us tickets to a Broadway show you’ve apparently been complaining about wanting to see.”
You squeaked, visibly happier about this news than of the announcement that Iron Man is in love with you. “Tonight?” you squeaked again.
“Yes, tonight,” he told you, while you started kissing across his face to his neck. You loved the feeling of his facial hair. You sucked on and licked at and nibbled on his neck until his wandering hands became more manic. “And that’s not even the gift. I have a big surprise for you right after the show.”
You grinded against him, so excited about all of this news.
“Okay, yes, you’re obviously very happy,” he acted as though he wanted you to get off his lap, but he wasn’t putting much effort into actually getting that done.
“You are so good to me,” you whispered between kisses. You started tugging on the bottom of his shirt, hinting that you’d like for him to take it off.
“I promise, you’re going to want to reward me later, babe. Save it. According to Pepper, you’re about you get the gift of your wildest dreams.”
You continued to rub yourself against him. “You are not making me want to fuck you any less, babe.”
“Babe,” he responded. It was a little inside joke between the two of you. At some point you got tired of all the pet names he was capable of and just started calling each other ‘babe’, and nothing else. It felt like a code word between you, a little something you could have that was just for you and not any of his other lovers. You would think that with Pepper and you, Tony wouldn’t find time to fuck any more people, but that would be ridiculous. There would never be a world in which Tony Stark couldn’t easily get laid by someone new.
“Go wear something you would want someone you’ve got the hots for to see you in,” he recommended.
You raised an eyebrow. “Someone someone, or someone you?”
“Not me, and that’s it. That’s the only hint you’re getting about your surprise, and only because you’re being difficult and turning me on.”
You jumped off the couch and hustled to your bedroom. Tony stayed in the living room while you figured out if you wanted to wear a sexy dress or a sexy suit.
So Tony was taking you to Broadway, you tried to figure out the mystery. There was a show playing that you didn’t know much about yet, but the headliner happened to voice act one of your favorite cartoon characters, so you kind of had a non-crush, an indirect or once-removed non-crush on the singer. Judging by Tony’s hinting, you had a feeling he pulled some strings and was going to introduce you to the cast and you could meet this actor. You squealed several more times imagining this as you got dressed.
“I can hear you thinking in there!” Tony yelled to you.
“I’m sorry, babe, I usually try to leave all the thinking to you~” you sang back.
You kissed him several more times on your way down to the limo, and could not get off from his lap on your ride over to the theater. You didn’t like to beg, but even let out a little please, when Tony told you not to put your hand down his pants. “There will be time for this, later, I promise,” he kept saying. He was really certain that whatever he had planned for you was going to blow your mind.
Well, what Pepper probably planned for you, but Pepper was the best metamor in the world and you were so lucky she was yours.
You and Tony got to cut the entire line into the theater. He got you special balcony seats as if you were the hecklers from The Muppets. You tried to touch his cock again for that, but he kept encouraging you to settle down.
The show was magnificent. When your actor non-crush came out, you had to hold Tony’s hand tightly in both of yours and clutched it to your chest. You were starstruck. He was incredible. You felt a little embarrassed even looking directly at him as he performed. And Tony was being a real trooper; he didn’t make fun of you one time during the show, but you weren’t even sure he was paying attention. He could have been asleep with his eyes open for all you knew.
During intermission, you rested your head on Tony’s shoulder and swooned with a sigh. “This is the best gift ever, babe,” you told him.
“This isn’t the gift, babe,” he put his arm around you and kissed the top of your head.
An usher stepped onto the stage with a microphone. “I hope you’re all having a lovely time. We appreciate everyone who is here to support our cast and crew. We wanted to also express our deepest gratitude and appreciation to two very important audience members tonight!” Tony nudged you, having been through this kind of thing many times. You sat up quickly. The spotlight fell on the two of you. “Everyone please give a round of applause to our special guests, two of the Avengers and saviors of our city and planet,” and then he shared your names.
You waved happily at the crowd. Some people took photos. Tony stood up and helped you to your feet, as well. He had his arm around your waist. “Hello, everyone! Welcome to our first official date as partners. I finally asked her and she said yes,” he spoke like the American royalty he was. The crowd laughed and cheered.
You actually blushed a little. You still hadn’t gotten used to humans acting like you weren’t a monster, much less acting like you were someone to applaud.
You sat back down, your heart racing. Tony was so good, he gave you a comforting kiss on the side of your head. “In case I didn’t tell you already, you look amazing in your little outfit, babe.”
“Babe~” you whined happily, and nuzzled into him for the second act of the show.
When it was over, you stood up and applauded and cheered wildly, and there was one more embarrassing moment when the spotlight hit the two of you again and even the actors applauded for you. You looked down at your non-crush and you could not believe he was making direct eye contact with you. You squeezed Tony’s hand. And finally, the actors left the stage.
“Oh, my gods!” you squeaked as Tony sat in his chair, fiddling with his phone in a way he would have never let you do during a date. “He looked at me! Ah! He, like, looked directly into my soul,” you felt like a twelve year old at a boy band concert.
“Okay, get ready to fall even more in love with me than you already were,” Tony said, a little more deadpan than felt appropriate for your energy.
You thought Tony was waiting for the rest of the audience to clear out so that the two of you wouldn’t be attacked by fans of your own, so you sat patiently, riding out the high of the excitement of the night. You and Tony had committed to be together. He told you he loved you. He took you on a date that made sense for your interests. You were applauded not once, but twice, by civilians. And somehow Tony believed he still had one last trick up his sleeve.
An usher came out from the curtain behind y’all and so you took Tony’s hand and were led off the balcony; only, you didn’t seem to be walking the same way you came.
You squeaked again, clutching Tony’s arm in both of yours, holding onto him as if for dear life. “Oh my gods, Tony, I’m so fucking nervous.”
“You’re an Avenger,” he chuckled. “Can you try for maybe just a few more minutes, not to be so fucking cute?”
You wanted to stop in your tracks at that comment. Tony had never called you cute before. You guessed a lot of things were going to be different now that you were his girlfriend.
Squeak!
The usher led the two of you to a door. You read the name on it and clung onto Tony’s arm more tightly. As the usher knocked, you started shaking your head. “Oh my gods, oh my gods, ohmygods, ohmygods Tony I can’t do this,” you whispered.
“Ssshhhh, you’re an Avenger, babe. You help save the world. You’re Tony Stark’s girlfriend.”
“That’s your fucking pep talk,” you yell-whispered, “that you’re my boyfriend so I should never have anxiety again for as long as I live?”
“Well, yes,” he smiled and kissed the side of your head again.
“Yes, come in!” your non-crush opened the door to his dressing room. His hair was fresh-out-of-the-shower wet. He was wearing a plain t-shirt and comfortable pants. He had a towel around his neck. “Please excuse the wait. Wow, it is such an honor!” he shook Tony’s hand first, because that was his only option. You were still clinging shyly to Tony’s other arm, like a toddler to their dad. You even hid a little bit behind him.
The usher closed the door to give the three of you privacy.
“You’ll have to excuse my significant other. They have just the biggest crush on you,” Tony sold you down the river.
You let go of his arm and took a step away, with a gasp. “Betrayer!”
“Oh, please, you flatter me,” the star took your hand in both of his and shook it, and then brought your hand to his mouth to kiss. You had never squirted before in your life, but were almost certain you just squirted in your panties. His eyes were locked in yours as he kissed the back of your hand.
“Oh, look at this, I’m getting a phone call. I’ll be right back,” Tony said, before leaning over to whisper in your ear. “I’ll be sitting right outside the door if you need anything. Fuck him and let’s go home.”
“What?” you actually said out loud.
But Tony was gone, and your Broadway star non-crush was still holding your hand.
You exhaled nervously.
“I’m so sorry,” he let go of you. “I believe I’m a little starstruck,” he was feigning shyness to flirt with you. Holy shit, holy shit.
“Get the fuck out of here, I am obsessed with you!” you said and stammered. “I mean not you exactly. Actually, I’m obsessed with [cartoon character he plays]. Not that you’re not very handsome and talented!” Were you even saying words anymore?
“Please, come sit down,” he took your hand again and led you to a large comfortable couch at the side of his dressing room. He sat down next to you, facing you politely, and continued to dry his hair with his towel. “I wish I could say that I’m obsessed with a character you play, but I’m pretty sure I’m just obsessed with you,” he chuckled and you were certain you were dead. “When I was told you and Tony Stark wanted to meet me tonight, I thought I might throw up from the nerves.”
“Shut up,” you would have playfully shoved him, but he was still bold enough to hold your hand.
“Please, please let me know if this is in any way offensive, but could I take a photo of us together?” he asked you.
He wanted a photo with you? Being an Avenger was fucking insane.
You took out your phone. “I think Pepper would kill me if the first photo I posted on social media the day Tony and I got together was of me with another man. I’ll take the photo and post it tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
He nodded and scooted closer to you. He was conventionally gorgeous so he looked good from almost every angle, but you had to pose a little to make yourself look like you belonged in a photo with him. You took a couple of photos together, making silly and typical faces and joking around. For the last one, he asked if he could kiss your cheek and you let him. You probably, maybe, likely squirted again.
“Okay, real talk now,” you put your phone away and stood up from the couch. “Do you want to fuck me?”
“What?” he asked, standing up with you, and then immediately corrected himself. “Yes! Yes, please.”
“Don’t do anything weird because Tony’s literally outside,” you warned him, sliding off your panties and sticking them in your purse.
He looked at the door and then again at you. “Of course.” He actually looked nervous!
“Wait- am I being rude? You must be so tired from your show?”
“Oh, I am not too tired for this,” he stepped closed to you, one hand at your neck and the other at your waist. He kissed you deeply and tasted of mint. He groped at your dress, sliding it higher and higher up your legs until he could touch your bare thighs.
“What can you comfortably bend me over?” you asked him, pulling away from his kisses and looking around the room.
Unphased by the question, and having clearly done this before, he led you around a cute partition and flipped around a chair that was resting behind it. The height of the back of the chair was perfect to bend over, and you leaned forward to rest your elbows at the seat of the chair. You spread your legs apart for him.
“Wait,” you stood up and turned around for a moment. His pants and briefs were already pulled onto the floor, his cock ready for whatever you wanted. “I just wanted to see,” you told him.
“Please,” he stroked himself slowly.
You reached out to touch him and he seemed to melt from it. How strangely starstruck the two of you had been. Now you understood why Tony was keeping you from coming; he wanted to give you a chance to feel feral with your celebrity crush.
Awe, babe, you thought. He was so fucking sweet.
You bent over the chair again and wiggled your butt a little for him. He came up close to you and rubbed his cock against your cunt.
“You said you liked one of my characters,” you felt him using his fingers to spread you open and slide in, presumably to check how wet and ready you’d been for him. “Do you want me to quote them, or anything?”
“Shut the fuck up,” you told him. “Do that and I will actually come before you’re even inside me.”
He chuckled, “okay, I’ll save it for the end, but tell me what to say.” He poked and prodded at you, and you were surprised and grateful for his gentleness. You had basically just told him to fuck you, and here he was still treating you with class. You wondered if it was because he was afraid Tony Stark would actually kill him if you made his brand new girlfriend too sore to fuck him later. Maybe this guy was just sweet of his own accord?
You told him some of your favorite quotes, and encouraged him to feel free to sing some of his songs from his musicals.
“It’s a bit of a challenge to sing and fuck at the same time, but I will do my best,” he told you.
You reciprocated his openness for play by asking him something similar. “Do you want me to use my powers on you?”
“Oh, gods, no, please, no,” he said and chuckled.
You waited until his cock was at your entrance again and you pushed back hard against him, taking every inch of him until you felt him hit your cervix. You bit down on your lip and groaned.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he told you, starting to pump into you at a steady pace. “You’re so fucking wet and ready. Is all of this for me?”
“I’ll be honest, Tony Stark’s been withholding today. I think he didn’t want to wear me out.”
“He’s a much nicer guy than people give him credit for,” he started fucking you a little faster, and you fucked back just as hard, until the two of you fell into a rhythm of delicious skin-slapping fucking. He did all of the things he agreed to, and after you both came hard into and onto each other, you asked if he could do it again. He did, two more times, and then you decided you couldn’t push your luck any more than that.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you told him after that third time. He was still panting.
“I just fucked an Avenger,” he said, sounding a little delirious.
“And very well, at that! What do you need for aftercare?”
He shook his head. “Just your phone number. For those photos,” he pulled up his briefs and pants. He hesitated with a thought and then asked it. “Probably too late to wonder, but, birth control?”
“No uterus,” you told him. You made a scissors gesture with your fingers.
“Excellent,” he chuckled, and walked over to his minifridge. He got two cold bottles of water.
“And for you?” he asked you, handing you a bottle.
You took it and drank half of it before answering. “Tell me that you still respect me.”
He did.
You exchanged phone numbers.
He was sweet enough to ask to kiss you goodbye.
You used his vanity to clean up your makeup and the sweat from your face and neck, and you were off. Tony was talking to Pepper or FRIDAY or someone, sitting in a chair right beside the door. He got up as soon as you stepped out of the room. He and the actor waved goodbye to each other with adorable nods you imagined were full of respect between two dudes who were fucking the same person.
“I can’t believe you made me sit in the cuck chair for over an hour,” Tony joked. “My ass is on fire.”
“So is mine,” you joked back.
“So who is the best boyfriend in the world?” he asked you, as you clung to him again, stepping out of the theater into the cold New York City air.
You pulled him closer and kissed his cheek. “Tony Stark is the best boyfriend in the universe,” you told him.
“Remember that in twenty minutes when we’re back at your apartment and I’m mixing that guy’s jizz inside of you with mine.”
Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.
summary: at an avengers party, tony stark plays with your asshole while your drunken lover peter parker sleeps on your shoulder
notes/warnings/kinks: you and peter are adults; tony and pepper are married; no avengers ever die in my au; dubious consent; implied cheating that ends up not being cheating; dad/son threesome type shit; threesome; public sex; exhibitionism; anal sex; ass play; vaginal fingering; intoxication from alcohol; for the first time ever reader is a woman and gets called girly pet names like princess; prolonged intimate eye contact; men blushing; some begging/whimpering from everyone
ships: peter/reader; tony/reader; thor/reader; peter/reader/tony; tony/pepper; pepper/natasha/reader; clint/laura/reader; bruce/reader if you squint; steve/reader
At every Avengers party there was an opportunity to make some drunk Avenger say something they were never going to live down.
This year, your lover Peter Parker made the two of you the memory of the night.
The original 6 typically went after Peter for his age; cheap heat since he was the baby with this group. But this year Tony asked just the right question to humiliate the two of you.
“So, kid,” he asked after his and Peter’s nth drinks, with am arm around his ward. “What’s been the most surprising thing about sex for you?”
There were already chuckles in the crowd, the question itself funny enough to satisfy the moment. It was still a dig about his age, but so much more.
There were already chuckles in the crowd, the question itself funny enough to satisfy the moment.
Peter could have just laughed along, and they would have gone on to another subject. All he had to do was ride out the bits of chuckles, and not take everything so seriously.
But, no. Peter answered, instead.
“I couldn’t believe the crazy amounts of anal,” he admitted, and didn’t realize when the part of the room he was in had grown a lot more quiet. The rest of the party carried on as usual, but the original avengers, and you, were stunned into silence.
And no one’s eyes were on Peter. They were on you, watching your skin flame as red as a tomato.
They all knew Peter was straight, so he wasn’t having sex with any men. The math was doing itself. You and Peter were having a lot of anal sex. But now there were additional questions that were going to come, and you were worried you couldn’t save either of you from them. They were going to wonder whose ass was the one getting fucked, his or yours?
“When you say … crazy amounts,” Hawkeye broke the silence. “How crazy are we saying?”
You tried to cover Peter’s mouth, but Tony was stronger than you and uncovered it. You glared at him and lowered your face to hide in Peter’s lap under the table. You were drunk, too, and you didn’t have the energy to fight this.
“Oh my gods, it’s like, I swear I’ve had more anal than I’ve had vaginal sex!” Peter said, happy and way too casually, in his stupor.
Well, that cleared up the who-does-who questions.
Someone said “hot damn” and someone actually slapped their leg in celebration. There was laughter, and it was mostly kind. It was probably only kind, but you didn’t like your sex life being public like this. You didn’t need every Avenger to know that you liked anal sex so much. You didn’t want anyone to know that much detail about you.
“Growing up, you think, hell, if I get to have anal with a beautiful woman, that’s just going to be great. Maybe it’ll happen once. Maybe twice! But I’ve had it so often, I started wondering if it’s just the thing now.
“And you’d think I’d get tired of it, right? Been there, right? But, nooooo. There’s something about the taboo of it that every time still feels like a surprise. Like, oh, really, baby? Really? You’ll let me? Wow, I’m so lucky. Every time!”
“Oh my god!” you yelled from his lap. You jumped to your feet, a little dizzy, and started pulling him by his arm. “Okay, that’s enough partying. This was swell. We are leaving!”
There was laughter and comments and finally Thor stood up from the opposite side of the table and came over to embrace you from behind.
You wondered if all of your hugs would be from behind from now on.
“It’s okay, little one. I’m sure everyone here has already assumed your sex isn’t-” he looked around the table, “what do you call it here? Milky? Creamy?”
“Vanilla!” Captain Steve Rogers said, finally getting to enjoy a special alcoholic concoction Tony and Bruce created that could actually get him drunk. And also, finally knowing a word for something sooner than anyone else.
Your face actually burned from the heat of the embarrassment. “Let me go, I’m leaving!” He held you just slightly enough that you could squirm, but not lightly enough that you could get away, and you didn’t hate that particular attention. You may have been dating Peter, but you had an arrangement, and you wouldn’t kick a single Avenger out of bed.
Some of them were already over the conversation, but Peter was looking at you with his adorable drunk gaze, Thor was keeping you in place, and you earned the undivided attention of one Tony Stark.
“I always knew there was something special about you,” Tony flirted, his arm still around his surrogate son, whom you were dating!
“Tony, please,” you didn’t know how to finish. “And Thor, let me go,” you squirmed weakly in his grasp.
Thor put his lips close your ear, grazing it as he spoke. “What’s the safe word?” he teased you.
“Look what you did, Peter!” you scolded your lover.
Peter drank some water and his brows furrowed cutely as he spoke. “What’s going on, honey? Why are you so mad?” He sounded so happy and stupid, you were struggling to even feel a little frustrated with him.
“You’re going to hear it tomorrow,” Tony pat Peter on the shoulder. “For now, apologize to your beautiful, kinky little girlfriend, and ask her to sit her beautiful, kinky little butt back down.”
“Don’t talk about my butt!” you yelled at him, which made Thor guffaw.
“Come, Thor, pass that little booty on over here,” Tony encouraged. Thor gave you to Peter, as if you were as light as a kitten, and Peter slid over to trap you sitting in the booth between him and Tony. Peter leaned close to you, placing his hot, gorgeous face against your neck and shoulder. He took one of your arms until the two of you held hands. Thor sat down at his other side.
The other Avengers had left the table, which did made you feel a little better. It didn’t seem like they were as interested in your humiliation as Tony was. And Thor, well, Thor just seemed interested in you.
“Fine, I’m sitting! I’m here!”
Now that you were between Peter and Tony, Tony rested his arm around you instead of Peter. You were in the part of the booth that curved, so you could easily interact with Thor over your boyfriend’s intoxicated, resting body.
“So, we have discovered one of your kinks,” Tony teased you, using his free hand to play with your hair.
“I actually knew this one already,” Thor bragged, reminding Tony that the two of you had grown up together in Asgard, though you weren’t an Asgardian.
“Brings a new meaning to the name Assgard, doesn’t it, Thor?” Tony dad-joked.
You were annoyed that Thor found that funny, but not so annoyed that you didn’t find the moment sweet enough to make you smile.
“Get it out now, because if you ever mention this again after tonight, I will be out of your lives! I will leave the Avengers altogether!” you threatened.
“You are so sensitive,” Tony leaned closer, but made sure to speak loudly enough for Thor to hear. “Just like that tight, little asshole, I imagine.”
“Tony!” you shoved him a little.
Thor ordered more drinks from a waitress who stopped by, but asked her to change Peter’s order into water instead, since he was clearly snoring on your shoulder now.
“I don’t know how Peter is going to feel tomorrow when I tell him his pseudo-dad was flirting with me,” you warned, though your heart wasn’t in it.
Thor must have gotten tired of not getting enough attention, because he excused himself and left.
Tony kept playing with your hair. “You think Peter, my protégé, wouldn’t proudly share the love of his life with me?”
“I’m not the love of his-”
“Regardless, sweetheart,” you loved and hated how Tony used the same pet names for all women everywhere, the way older men in New York tended to do when they didn’t respect your gender. Coming from Tony, though, it didn’t sound as cruel.
“Imagine I, his mentor, his role model, were to find out during a party, that his partner enjoys, oh, I don’t know, double penetration-”
You gulped.
“And imagine Peter always really just wanted someone to be proud of him.”
“Tony-”
“Sshhh, Princess, just listen.”
“You are going to make a terrible father to a little girl one day, and I am going to laugh.”
He smiled and repeated: “Sshhh. Imagine sweet Peter has a phenomenal sex life, with one of the most beautiful women in the world, who happens to also be an Avenger, and now imagine his only living father figure were to want to see or be a part of that sex life. How, my sweet little angel, do you imagine that conversation might go?”
“That’s disgusting Tony, Peter would never-”
“Oh, but what if,” he cut you off again, and you kind of loved that he did that, because it meant he would keep speaking and you secretly loved whenever Tony spoke.
“What if along with being able to please his mentor-father, he was also able to please his kinky little girlfriend, whose cunt he could smell, with his spidey senses, getting wet whenever said mentor was around?”
If your face had stopped being red at any point during that conversation, you were certain it was back to it now. You brought your new drink to your face, if only to cool yourself down by pressing the cold, wet glass against your cheek.
“Are you picturing it, honey?” Tony was somehow closer to you now, obscuring your view of the rest of the party. “Surrogate father and son, deep inside of you at the same time? Making each other proud?”
You let out an embarrassing whimper.
Tony’s hand pulled up the bottom of your long dress until he could feel your soft, plump flesh underneath it. He slid his hand up your dress, tapped for you to spread your legs apart, and allowed himself to squeeze and rub the fattest, softest part of your upper inner thigh.
You moaned, trying to cover it with the drink in your hand.
“Tony, please-” you started, but you didn’t know what to say next.
“Tony?” You were woken from his spell by his wife’s voice and looked up to see Pepper, looking like a Grecian goddess, standing by your table with a drink in hand.
Tony turned from you to her slowly. “I’m in the middle of something, my love,” he told her.
She motioned with two fingers from you, to him, and to Peter.
“I’m trying,” he said.
“He’s unconscious,” Pepper told him. “And hi, by the way, [Y/N], you look absolutely stunning, and please let me know if I need to apologize for my husband. He is still learning about consent.”
“Oh, I have consent, my queen,” he told her, making you remember when he called you his princess. You were wet. You hated that he predicted that he made you wet.
“You good?” Pepper asked you.
This was the moment. If you shook your head, Pepper would save you. You would be excused to go home with your boyfriend and try not to masturbate remembering this moment for the rest of your life; the moment Tony Stark tried to seduce you.
You nodded. “I’m good,” you told her. You hated the smirk on Tony’s face.
“Very well,” she leaned over the table to kiss Tony on the top of his head. “I’m going home with Natasha tonight, so don’t come into the bedroom. She doesn’t want you there.”
Tony rolled his eyes but then removed his hand from between your legs so he could blow a kiss to his wife. “You enjoy yourselves, you red-headed little sirens.”
“P-Pepper’s going to fuck Natasha?” you asked him.
He leaned back in his seat and sipped at his drink. “Or the other way around. They are both very secretive about what they do together. For all I know, nothing happens and they just like torturing me.”
“So you guys have an-”
“Open marriage, yeah,” Tony had a way of predicting what others were going to say and finishing their sentences for them.
Tony leaned into you as if mirroring the way Peter slept against your other shoulder. “I would never do anything to hurt Pepper or Peter, you know this, right?”
And before you could answer, he added, “or you, for that matter.”
“Even me?”
You felt Tony’s hand sliding from your neck to your back.
“Now, you’re going to have to be very still for this,” he told you.
He fingered the zipper to your dress and started to pull it down.
You moved as if to stop him, but he didn’t.
“Tony, my dress-”
“Ssshh, if you sit still, it won’t slide off. I just need better access.”
“Tony, stop it, pull that zipper back up,” he did as he was told, and you felt alive with authority knowing this extremely powerful man just quickly obeyed your command.
“Okay, let’s try this another way,” he acquiesced. “Lift up your bum and pull up your dress as much as you can,” he started, and when you didn’t do what he wanted he kissed your cheek and whispered, “Pretty please?”
You exhaled and pulled up your dress, standing up a bit, careful not to rouse Peter as he slept so beautifully against you, mouth fully open, eyes completely shut, fingers entwined in your hand.
Tony made sure your dress didn’t cover your underwear. When you settled back down, he slid his hand over your thong, gently pressing into the string portion, his ring and middle finger sliding between your ass cheeks.
“Oh my god, Tony,” you moved your face to hide it in his hair. “Tony? Tony. Tony!” You kept saying his name, not out of desire, but confusion, like you were trying to ask him what he was doing, but couldn’t find the words. And why were you asking, when it was very clear?
Tony shifted. He rested his other elbow on the table so he could look directly at you. To others, it must have looked as though the two of you were locked in a deeply intimate conversation. Your heart raced. Having him looking at you while his fingers slowly felt their way to your asshole was delightfully humiliating. You felt deeply desired and less and less embarrassed as this event went on.
Plus, this was Tony.
Tony Stark; Iron Man.
Peter’s idol.
And Peter was asleep on your shoulder.
And there was a tiny, nasty voice inside of you reminding you, you wouldn’t even be in this position if Peter hadn’t told them.
You felt Tony’s fingers reach your asshole. His cheeks were flushed in a way you thought you must have only imagined. It must have been the lighting. Tony had probably fucked his way in and out of thousands, not just hundreds of people. But you wanted so badly to believe you weren’t just a number to him, so you ignored the reality. Let’s imagine Tony is blushing, and he’s blushing because of you.
He moved the very thin strip of thong aside and touched your asshole gently, his lips parting and his lungs releasing air as he did.
He looked unbelievably sexy, and so soft. You loved seeing this expression on him. You could never tell either of them, but this was exactly the expression Peter had when he was excited. Tony was excited. You had Tony Stark opening his mouth to pant for air.
You squirmed a little, and remembered to sit still.
Tony started to prod at you, and your expression matched his. You could believe he was doing something wildly sexual in a crowded room, full of friends and coworkers, but you couldn’t believe you were doing it as well.
He prodded you and groaned as he did. “Is this what you like, Princess?” he asked you. “Tony only wants to do what you like.”
Of course he would refer to himself in third person during sex, the fucking narcissist. But he couldn’t really be a narcissist if he was asking for instruction, could he? Were there nice narcissists out there?
He prodded your hole a little harder.
“Yes!” you told him, with a gasp. You tried not to squirm. Your pussy felt so hot and it needed to feel friction. It usually helped you to come from anal if you had something inside your cunt, as well.
“Tell me what else you like, little angel,” he sounded like an instructor, but there was a twang of begging to his tone.
“I-” you started, mortified.
“Please, sweetness, tell me. Let Daddy make you feel good.”
You laughed at him calling himself Daddy, which made him smile, and helped you relax. “I want you to just- go in a little, and- and-” you felt him immediately follow your instruction. “And just play with the oh-opening- just like that.”
Your lustful breathing must have made it harder for Peter to sleep because he opened his eyes and turned to look around at where he was. He smiled seeing you and kissed your cheek and started kissing your neck.
“Peter-” you started, but you were having a hard time focusing on anything except the pleasure against your asshole, Peter’s sensual kisses, and the empty torture between your legs.
“Son,” Tony said confidently.
Peter stopped suckling at your neck and turned to look at Tony. “Tony!” he said happily.
“Son, I’m playing with your girlfriend’s asshole,” Tony admitted.
Peter thought for a moment, and then another, and turned to you. “And that’s okay?”
You nodded.
Peter imitated your nod the way only drunken fools and stoners do.
“Peter,” Tony started again, and regained Peter’s attention. “Our little lady here wants you to put your fingers inside of her, so she can orgasm. Do you understand?”
Peter thought, and looked at you again. “Fingers. Orgasm?” he asked, like he was Tarzan.
You nodded and bit your lips.
Peter shifted his position slightly, returning his lips to the nape of your neck, and effortlessly slid his hand up your thigh, pushing aside your thong, and immediately sliding three of his fingers into your pussy, knuckles deep, until he could feel your sweet spot with the tips of his fingers. He held his hand just so, and instead focused on how incredible it was to kiss and suck at and lick and taste your neck.
Tony increased the speed of his motion, only a little, along with the pressure. You were squeaking out your sounds, trying to cover them. You placed your drink down on the table and couldn’t help it, you had to cover your face in your hands. Your expression was lewd. The sounds you were making were vile.
“Put your hands down,” Tony moved them for you. “It’ll attract attention. You don’t want any more attention in this crowded room, do you, little one?”
You put your hands down and tried to control your breathing. You sat up a little straighter, which only dug both of their fingers deeper into you. You squeaked. Every time you made a sound, Tony’s nostrils flared. He looked like he wanted nothing else in his life but to devour you. All the while sweet, loving Peter nibbled at your skin.
“I’m getting close,” you told them.
Both men knew what they were doing. Peter waited patiently. Tony didn’t change a movement, but he wanted to pile on. He wanted to fuck with your head.
“Can you do something for me, sweetheart?” he asked you.
“M-mmm-maybe,” you told him.
“Tell me, where is Thor?”
The reminder that your childhood friend, who clearly was aroused by you earlier, was in the room, made your cunt start contracting. You didn’t want to look away from Tony or from this table. You didn’t want to stop feeling like you were in a safe little bubble. But your eyes were more curious. They darted around the room.
“He- he’s at your four o’clock, t-talk-mmm, talking to Maria Hill.”
“Excellent, thank you. Now tell me, where is Rogers?”
You whimpered and started squirming, tears filling your eyes. You looked. “He- he’s at your three, but on the upper level, le-leeean-leaning against the banister. He’s looking down at us. He sees everything. He- he’s blushing.”
“Good, good. Thank you. I’m sure my wife and Nat are gone so, where are the last two? Banner and Barton?”
You gulped. You loved the way Peter’s fingers gave friction when you moved your body. Your cunt felt incredible, like it could never feel when your ass wasn’t touched as well. Tony’s movements were perfect; exact. He was patient in a way you didn’t know he was capable of being.
“Ba-Banner’s to your five, turned away, drinking at the bar. Barton- Barton …” you looked and looked, until you saw him, “six o’clock, sitting on the upper level, feet dangling, and he sees us, too. He- he’s trying to hide that he’s hard.”
“Wonderful. Thank you so much, darling,” he sped up his motions and intensified his pressure, spreading your ass even more open and pushing just a little more of his fingers in. Your cunt was contracting wildly. You kept eye contact with Tony. You never realized how beautiful he could be, especially locked in with you like this.
Finally, Peter started moving his hand as well, slowly, barely, but roughly. Deeper. Rubbing hard against your G-spot.
And you came. You covered your mouth with the back of your hand and let some tears fall, hopefully not smearing your make up, and you came. And you kept coming and coming and groaning and whimpering and crying into the back of your hand.
When you were finished, they slowly slid their fingers out of you. Peter fixed your underwear and your dress, picking you up a little to make sure when you stood, your dress would be where it belonged. Both men hugged you, shielding you now from the rest of the party. You took your time catching your breath.
“For after care, she likes gratitude more than praise,” Peter explained to Tony.
“Thank you for letting me experience this with you,” Tony whispered.
“Exactly, yeah! Thank you for being so fucking sexy and open to everything,” Peter added.
Tony laughed at Peter’s careless wording. He was more familiar with having to try hard not to accidentally slut shame.
“Thank you for letting me start a random threesome without asking,” you thanked Peter, with a wet, electrifying kiss on his mouth.
“Um, technically I started it?” Tony pretended to be offended.
You smiled at him. “What kind of aftercare do you need?”
Tony couldn’t even pretend to think. His smile bordered on impish, then appeared completely devilish. “A promise that we will do that, and more, again.”
You and Peter both laughed, nuzzling each other. “Okay, sure. As long as it’s okay with Peter, we can do that again,” you told him.
After a few minutes of more breathing, you were all finally able to stop hugging and touching each other so much. Tony went to the bathroom while Peter ordered you and him more water.
You checked your phone. You had several text messages!
Thor: Let’s hang out this tomorrow?
Nat: I hear you’re into threesomes. Pepper and I get lonely sometimes, you know …
Dr. Bruce Banner: Are you okay? I’m being told some things I wouldn’t have believed if I didn’t see with my own eyes.
Clint: You know, the missus and I are always looking for a unicorn …
And finally, the most surprising and alarming text of them all.
Captain Rogers: I almost forgot to tell you. You look absolutely stunning tonight.
