Reader x Peter Parker x Harry Osborn threesome
The bass downstairs rattled the walls so hard the framed photos shook and the windows wobbled back and forth. Harry Osborn had called it a casual get together. Which, translated from rich boy billionaire dialect, apparently meant three stories full of drunken college students, a live DJ in the backyard, a dozen strippers, champagne towers, top shelf coke, and a couple making out in literally every hallway. You wouldn’t have come except for the fact that you had known Harry and his best friend Peter since literally high school, and you had also happened to have a crush on both of them ever since you laid eyes on them at Midtown High.
Harry Osborn? Rich, snotty, bratty, egotistical, and hot all over. He was your typical fuck boy, plus the added elevated status and wealth galore, making him prime community dick. You could care less, you wanted him anyway. Just like every other girl in your school, you couldn’t help but swoon when he walked past, donning that shit eating smirk that made you weak in the knees. He was an asshole, the kind to make snide remarks when you bent over your locker to pick up your textbooks or try to make you turn red with a sexual innuendo whispered in your ear. But he was also an exhibitionist of sorts. Once a barista at your local coffee shop spelled your name wrong, and so he decided to buy the entire store and retrain the staff. He also named your favorite drink after you. Another time you were at the mall and they didn’t have a dress in your size, and so you opted to order it online. Harry? Contacted the designer directly and had them create a custom fashion line just for you. He always went above and beyond to please and impress you.
Peter Parker on the other hand? Nerdy, shy, awkward, respectful, intelligent and incredibly irresistible. He graduated salutatorian, was the president of the robotics, speech and debate, LEGO, 3D printing, academic decathlon, and newspaper clubs, and he had a full ride scholarship to ESU. He was a blushing virgin, and you didn’t give a single fuck. Other girls at school would probably call him a dork or a geek, but between his fluffy hair and his crooked glasses, you were a puddle in his mere presence. He was chivalrous as ever, always showering you in thoughtful compliments and telling you how beautiful you looked, noticing small details like you getting a minor haircut or whitening your teeth. He was also generous though, and gave you small gifts all the time. Things like iced coffee in the morning before your exams or a mixtape of songs he thought you’d like carefully packaged in a vintage walkman. He collected poems that reminded him of you and took photographs of you on his Polaroid and hung them in his locker, giving you the perfect Instagram posts. He cared, so much, and it meant the world to you.
But both of them together? You blinked at the scene in front of you, them getting competitive over a game of beer pong, Harry insisting it was about confidence and Peter insisting it was about physics. Harry had a girl on each arm, sipping on cocktails and cheering him on as he chugged three red solo cups full of Bud Lite. Meanwhile, Peter was backed up by a couple of friends from his extracurriculars, other nerds trying to advise him to change the force and altitude of his ping pong throws. You laughed and shook your head, rolling your eyes at how ridiculous they were, sipping on your hard seltzer.
“There she is!” Harry drunkenly knocked over cups of beer on the ping pong table as he made the grand gesture of throwing his arms towards the sky, grinning ear to ear at your arrival.
“Hey Y/N,” Peter greeted sheepishly, waving at you with a timid smile, awkwardly holding the ping pong ball in one hand. You could tell he was tipsy. His cheeks were a rosy red color and he stared at you a second too long. His eyes gravitated towards your low cut top for a moment before flickering back to your own, the redness in his cheeks deepening.
“What’re you sipping on?” Harry slurred, inspecting your drink and taking a sip before scowling. “Nah, we have to get you the good stuff. Come on, I saved a couple bottles just for us.”
“We didn’t even finish the game!” Peter whined and Harry blew him off, wrapping an arm around your waist, to which Peter clocked immediately. He struggled to keep up with the two of you, Harry’s confident gait bursting into the kitchen, mumbling something to one of the servants. Peter tapped you on the shoulder and you spun around, Harry’s arm falling to the wayside, you looking up at Peter with wide eyes. “You okay, love?”
The nickname made your heart flutter. “Yeah,” you nodded, simpering. “Just a little buzzed.”
“Yeah, me too!” he shouted over the booming music, holding up a can of beer.
“The good stuff,” Harry winked, holding up two bottles of Grey Goose Vodka.
“Jesus Christ Har, you got a chaser for that?” Peter groaned, nose crinkling up at the sight of the hard liquor.
“Pineapple juice is for pussies,” Harry teased. “Literally.”
“I’ll grab some sodas,” you smirked, Harry winking at you catching his reference, and Peter thanking you for the practicality.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Harry invited the two of you. “Come on, before the freshman start another fire.”
“Another?” you raised your eyebrows and he just laughed, beckoning you and Peter to follow him up the spiral staircase.
Harry’s room was absurdly large. He had red dim lighting outlining the ceiling. Vinyl records displayed on the walls. Expensive bottles of bourbon and whiskey lined up on a kitchen island. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline. And a California king sized bed with matching dark red silk sheets. You coughed, trying to ignore the blatant handcuffs attached to the headboard, and Harry smirked recognizing it caught your eye. Peter was more interested in the extensive video game collection, picking up the newest copy of Battlefield, holding it up and nodding at Harry in approval over his PS5.
Harry crossed the room deliberately, pursuing over his vinyl collection before choosing a Childish Gambino album and setting it carefully onto the record player, dropping the needle before joining you and Peter sprawled out on the Persian rug on the floor. “I’m surprised you showed,” Harry uncorked the vodka and took a swig before passing it to Peter.
“I only came because she made me,” Peter insisted, handing the bottle to you after taking a shot chased by his orange Crush soda.
“Well glad you did, kiddo,” Harry sighed, leaning back and resting on the palms of his hands, watching as your lips curled around the bottle and swallowed the liquor.
“Hey, I have an idea,” you suddenly grinned. “Never Have I Ever.”
Peter froze. Harry burst out laughing.
“Oh hell yeah!” Harry roared. “Let’s fucking go.”
“No… I… I don’t think…” Peter stammered.
“Aw come on, Pete,” Harry slugged him on the shoulder, taking another dose of vodka. “It’ll be fun. Don’t you have some burning questions you just can’t wait to ask her?” Peter narrowed his eyes at him, unamused. “Come on, you’ve been staring at her all night long.” He turned red at his comment, instantly averting his eyes away from the two of you.
“Okay look, ground rules- no lying,” you eyed them each carefully.
“Wow, I’m actually offended,” Harry placed a hand over his heart, mock hurt.
“Good, you should be,” you quipped.
Peter laughed quietly, taking another strong swig of vodka. God. That laugh. You were doomed. “Okay, okay,” he sobered up for a second. “Never have I ever… kissed someone at this party.”
“Lies! MJ is totally around here somewhere,” Harry argued.
“Nope, out of town for the weekend,” Peter shook his head, smiling. “Drink up, jackass.”
Harry took a long, hard, swig and you blinked in disbelief.
“Oh please,” he scoffed. “I hosted the damn thing. I must’ve kissed like… a dozen girls here.” Peter stayed still beside you. Cute.
“Never have I ever,” Harry said, eyes flickering towards Peter mischievously. “Had a crush on someone in this room.”
Peter went rigid. Harry confidently drank, eyeing you up and down before looking directly at Peter. He turned violently red.
“Oh. My. God.” you whispered delightfully.
Harry barked out a laugh. “Drink up, Parker. You heard the girl. No lying.”
Peter groaned and took the tiniest sip of vodka imaginable. Your stomach flipped at the sight. Peter wouldn’t even look at you now, bashful as ever. And Harry? Oh Jesus. Harry looked entirely too pleased with himself. Interesting.
“Okay…” you drew out the word slowly, taking a healthy chug of vodka for good measure. “Never have I ever fantasized about someone in this room.”
Peter looked like he wanted to disappear. Harry took a long drink without hesitation, eyes fixated on you, dark and full of lust. Then, very slowly, Peter began to drink too. The room seemed to grow a dozen degrees hotter. You swallowed the lump in your throat.
Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Your turn to drink.”
Your entire face felt warm as you grabbed the bottle from Pete. You stared at Harry for a second, and then lifted the bottle and drank. Harry let out a low whistle. Peter finally looked at you. And when you locked eyes with him… fuck. It was worse. Way worse. Because now there was heat beneath all the shyness. Curiosity. Want. Need. Harry watched the two of you like a cat playing with trapped birds.
“Interesting game,” he murmured.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Peter muttered.
“I just like seeing you get flustered,” he teased. “And for you.” He held the bottle up as if to cheers. “I like seeing you get horny.”
Peter flipped Harry off without looking at him, instead fixated on you, ready to jump to your defense at any second. You recovered, laughing it off. That shouldn’t have been attractive. Unfortunately, it was.
“Never have I ever,” Harry mused casually. “Wanted to kiss someone else in this room.”
Nobody moved immediately. Then, Harry drank. Peter stared at the bottle for a long second. And then reached out to grab it and drank too. You pulse thudded in your throat. Harry’s eyes dragged slowly to your mouth. Peter’s were fixated on your lips too. Suddenly the room felt suffocating. Twelve more degrees hotter. Fear crept up in your throat. You awkwardly cleared your throat, shaking your head at Peter offering you the bottle.
“This game got out of hand,” you abruptly decided. “I’m done.” You stood up from where you were sitting down, both the boys staring at you, perplexed by your sudden outburst.
“Did it now?” Harry asked softly.
Peter set the bottle down carefully. “You don’t have to go so-”
“I know,” you interrupted gently. You looked between them. Harry sprawled out on the Persian rug, oozing confidence and dark amusement. Peter sitting on the other side of you, as tense as a live wire, his brain short circuiting as his gaze traced your lips. You’d imagined this before. More than once. That realization must’ve shown on your face because Harry’s demeanor changed instantly. Interested.
“Come here,” he beckoned with his finger, dark eyes boring into yours.
You should’ve said no. Should’ve walked right out the door. Should’ve taken that goddamn bottle with you. Probably. Instead, your legs carried you over to where Harry was now standing, his hands sliding to your waist the second you stepped between his knees. His palms were warm. Possessive. Peter watched in slow motion like he forgot how breathing worked.
“You too Parker,” Harry said without looking away from you.
You held your breath as Peter stood slowly. The nervousness on his face nearly melted you. Harry’s hands still settled on your waist, his grip not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know who was in charge of this moment.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Peter swallowed hard. The tension in the room thickened instantly as he stepped over. Close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. Good god. Peter Parker nervous was already dangerous. So vulnerable. So sexy. But Peter Parker trying not to look jealous? Absolutely fatal.
Harry noticed everything. Of course he did. He always does. “You look terrified,” Harry whispered, eyes now on Peter’s.
“I-I’m not t-terrified,” Peter stuttered awkwardly.
“Sweetheart,” Harry cooed. “Your hands are shaking.”
Peter looked down immediately like that somehow made it less obvious. It didn’t. You bit back a smile. Harry’s thumb brushed slow circles against your hip through your clothes.
“What’s the matter, Parker?” he asked cooly. “You wanted her for years and now you don’t know what to do with yourself?”
Peter’s face flushed violently. ”Harry!”
“What?” he couldn’t help but grin, thoroughly pleased with himself, with the chess pieces he so deliberately placed. “Am I wrong?”
Silence. Interesting silence. Your heartbeat hammered harder in your ribcage.
Harry tilted his head slightly towards you, still not taking his eyes off Peter. “Do you see this, darling?” he murmured to you. “This is adorable. Truly. He’s been looking at you like you’re the moon amongst the stars since sophomore year of high school.”
“Oh my god.” You couldn’t help but whimper.
“And you,” Harry continued smoothly, finally dragging his gaze to yours. “You keep looking at both of us like you’re trying very hard to behave.” Your breath caught. “Trying hard to be a good girl, hmm?”
“You’re smug when you’re right,” you spat out in response, trying to defend yourself with whatever little dignity you had left.
“Honey, I’m smug all the time.”
Peter huffed out an involuntary laugh beside you. Harry’s grin sharpened.
The room felt like it increased a hundred degrees this time. Piping hot. Sweltering. Your own personal hell. Or heaven? You weren’t quite sure. Peter stood close enough that your shoulder brushed his chest every time you breathed. Harry looked between the two of you like he was orchestrating something. Which, honestly? He was.
“Parker,” Harry said casually. “Kiss her.”
Your stomach flipped violently. “What?!?!”
Harry’s voice stayed infuriatingly calm. “You heard me.”
Peter looked at you immediately. Not Harry. You. Checking, asking, waiting, even now. The sweetness of it nearly killed you. Your lips parted slightly and you nodded. That’s all it took. Peter stepped in between the two of you carefully, like he thought you might disappear if he moved too fast. His hands found your waist tentatively, warm and gentle, completely different from Harry’s.
“Are y-you sure?” Peter asked softly, big brown doe eyes looking down at yours.
Harry groaned dramatically. “Jesus H. Christ, Parker. If you ask for consent one more time, she’s gonna die before you kiss her.”
You laughed despite yourself.
God, he kissed you. And Peter kissed exactly the way he looked at you. Sweet. Careful. A little shaky at first. Delicate. Sacred. The second you kissed him back, he melted into it with this needy little inhale that went straight through you, turning your knees to jello. Your fingers slid into the front of his hoodie automatically, trying to catch yourself, stabilize, pulling him closer. Peter made the softest sound against your mouth.
Harry watched the entire thing through hooded eyes. “Cute,” he murmured.
Peter broke the kiss breathlessly, forehead nearly touching yours. “I’ve been dying to do that since… since…”
Harry immediately hooked two fingers under your chin. “My turn.”
Harry Osborn kissed you like he already owned you. Slow and confident and devastatingly deliberate. One hand slid up the back of your neck while the other stayed firm on your waist, holding you exactly where he wanted you. Heat flooded your entire body. You could feel Peter staring. Could practically feel the jealousy and fascination radiating off of him. Harry noticed that too. Always noticing the little things. Without breaking the kiss, Harry reached out blindly and caught Peter by the front of his hoodie.
Peter looked genuinely stunned by that phrase. Which made Harry smirk against your lips. You barely had time to breathe before Harry turned his head slightly and-
The room went dead silent.
Peter made this startled noise into Harry’s mouth like his brain had completely imploded. Harry kissed him slower than he kissed you. Still dominant. Still controlling. But there was something almost cruelly patient about it. Like he enjoyed unraveling him. Peter’s hands clenched helplessly at his sides before finally grabbing Harry’s shirt. Interesting. Very interesting.
“See?” Harry smirked, now sitting down on a leather sofa near the bar. “Wasn’t so hard.”
Peter stared at him, visibly dazed. “...hard.” He repeated slowly.
Harry grinned lazily and broke him out of his spell.
“You’re such an asshole,” Peter muttered, coming over and sitting on the chair across from Harry.
You were absolutely doomed. Because Peter looked wrecked. And Harry looked entirely too pleased with himself for causing it. Harry leaned back, beckoning you to come join, and you planted yourself on the sofa next to Harry, his arm immediately slinging around your shoulder. Peter stayed sitting there breathing hard, watching the both of you. Wanting. Waiting. Harry tilted his head slightly.
“New game,” Harry suddenly decided, a sinister smile spreading across his face. “Truth or dare.”
“Oh no,” Peter shook his head. “Hell no.”
“Hell yeah,” Harry grinned. The game clearly wasn’t the point. It was an excuse.
“Not everyone enjoys emotional warfare,” you narrowed your eyes.
“Obviously,” you groaned.
“Peter Parker,” he flashed a smile. “Truth or Dare?”
“Truth,” Peter crossed his arms over his chest.
“Pussy,” he rolled his eyes. “I knew you were gonna pick that one.”
“Fine, fine,” he relented, turning towards Peter again. “Who was your first crush?”
“God that was ten years ago,” Peter whined.
“I don’t care, who was your first crush, Pete?” he pressed.
A moment of silence. Peter pressed his lips together hard, studying Harry, and then sighed. “You.”
Harry’s eyebrows immediately raise and his eyes widen, thoroughly surprised and yet flattered. “Me?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Peter muttered.
You roared with laughter. Peter turned a shade redder than before, which you didn’t even know was possible. He immediately reached for the bottle of vodka and Harry snorted.
“Okay, okay,” your laughter subsided. “Osborn, your turn.”
“Dare,” he announced smugly.
“I dare you to say one sincere thing about each of us,” you challenged. Harry looked horrified.
“Nah, this is bullying,” he resisted.
“You chose dare,” Peter reminded.
“Fine,” he huffed. He thought for a moment, eyes flickering between you and Peter, and then hummed. “Okay, okay. Peter… you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
Peter smiled fondly, eyes softening, staying quiet.
“And y/n, you…” he faced you, arm still loosely wrapped around your shoulder. “You seem to have this magic ability where every time you enter a room, you make everyone else want to stay in it.”
You stared at him, heart swelling. It felt real, sincere, genuine.
“I hate you, both of you,” he grumbled, making grabby hands at Peter, begging for the bottle.
“You love us,” you insisted in a sing song voice.
“Love is a strong word,” he narrowed his eyes, annoyed. “Anyways, your turn, hot stuff.”
“Hit me with a dare,” you winked.
“I dare you to chug the rest of this bottle of vodka,” Harry crooned. “And kiss me as the chaser.”
“Harry!” Peter barked, eyes suddenly darting towards yours. “You’re just trying to get her shitfaced so you can-”
“So I can what?” Harry scoffed. “Take advantage of her? Get in her pants? Pete, the way she’s looking at me right now, I think I’m more in danger of her fucking me.” He threw his head back in laughter. “Look at her. She’s thinking about it.”
“About what?” you played innocent.
“About what it would be like to have both of us at the same time,” Harry donned a shit eating grin.
“I’m not letting her get black out drunk,” Peter threw a fit, reaching for the bottle, but you shook your head.
“I’m a big girl, Peter,” you pouted, snatching the bottle away from Harry. “I can handle my liquor.”
“Your birthday party senior year begs to differ,” Peter mumbled under his breath, clearly irritated by the way Harry’s hand now found its way to your thigh.
“Okay, first, that was Pink Whitney and secondly, that was also something you swore to never bring up again,” you reminded, closing your eyes and braving the bottle, nursing the vodka until the last drop hit your tongue, then opening your eyes and kissing Harry. It instantly turned into an open mouthed kiss, his tongue sliding between your lips and finding yours, humming softly in approval at the aftertaste of the liquor still on your tongue. It lasted exactly one second too long, and you heard Peter clearing his throat awkwardly as a signal for you to pull away.
“Sorry,” you apologized sheepishly, alcohol rushing to your head. “I got a little carried away.”
“Go make it better,” Harry squeezed your thigh encouragingly. “Go sit on his lap like a good slut.”
The look Peter gave Harry was like daggers. But you just smiled drunkenly and complied with an enthusiastic “Yes sir.” Peter looked lightheaded.
“Your turn again, Pete,” he reminded as you situated yourself in his lap. Peter’s hands fell to your sides, unsure of where to hold you, and you leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“When was the last time you were jealous?” Harry wondered.
“Tonight,” Peter admitted.
“Oh yeah?” Harry snickered.
“There’s no need to be jealous,” you insisted, brushing your thumb against his jawline. “There’s plenty of me to share.” You leaned in to kiss Peter and he completely froze, before melting underneath your touch and his hands finding their way to your waist. You were just brave enough to trace his lower lip with your tongue when Harry’s voice echoed throughout the room, boisterous as ever.
“My turn!” he announced. “Truth or dare! I pick dare.”
You slowly pulled away from Peter, smiling shyly before sighing, trying to think up something good. “Let me go through your phone unlocked for five minutes,” you grinned.
“What?” Harry instantly panicked.
“A dare is a dare, Har,” Peter smirked, slowly gaining confidence. You left his lap and he involuntarily whimpered at the loss of contact. Fuck. These boys.
“Gimme gimme,” you insisted, holding out your hand.
“Fuck my life,” Harry growled defeatedly, quickly snapping his face ID before handing his phone to you.
“Holy fuck,” your face instantly lit up.
“What? What?” Peter inquired and you shook your head, insisting this was purely between you and Harry.
Apps included Tinder and more interestingly, Grindr. Camera roll had a disgusting amount of selfies, but even more crass, dick pics. You swallowed down your curiosity and tried not to stare, but you were impressed by his size and his hygiene. His Venmo was filled with OnlyFans subscription charges and DoorDash fees and Uber Blacks, which wasn’t surprising to you at all. His Instagram boasted DMs between supermodels and celebrities, mostly empty compliments and invites to parties and events. His Spotify… “You listen to Britney Spears?” you cackled involuntarily.
“Okay five minutes is over,” Harry begged.
“Britney Spears?” Peter’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights. “Please tell me he listens to Work Bitch when he hits the gym.”
“Now,” Harry insisted and you giggled, giving in and handing him back his phone. Images of his dick pics burned in the back of your mind, and you found yourself subconsciously glancing down at his jeans, unable to stop thinking about what he was packing down there. “Y/n. Prime time, babygirl. Truth or dare?”
“Well I chose dare last time so let’s go with truth,” you decided.
“Who would you choose if you had to pick?” Harry dared anyways. “Me or Peter?”
A mortified look fell upon your face. You looked towards Peter to vouch for you, but instead he just stared, waiting for your response. Shit. “You don’t want to know that answer,” you insisted, but they both just looked at you, incessant.
“Peter,” you blurted out, and Harry looked visibly hurt, like you had just pried his ribcage open and ripped out his heart. Peter looked stunned. “Your turn.”
“I uh… I…” Peter stammered, awe struck.
“I already know you’re going to pick truth,” Harry averted. “So how about… have you ever had a dream about y/n?”
“Well…” Peter’s face flushed, looking at you, guilty. “I mean, yeah.”
“A wet dream?” Harry chuckled and Peter huffed in annoyance. You looked at him and your eyes met, and Peter suddenly realized you were waiting for an answer.
“And what about me?” Harry challenged. “Do I make you wake up with morning wood?”
“It’s your turn, jackass,” Peter sneered. “And you only get to ask one question.”
“Fine, since we’re deciding to be cowards…” he teased. “I’ll pick truth. Why not.”
Peter thought long and hard and then smiled, almost proud of himself. “What’s one thing I have that you can’t buy?” Harry blinked, appalled.
“Something you have that I can’t buy?” he snorted. “Yeah right.”
“Think about it Harry,” you sighed. “Seriously.”
He seemed to sober up for a moment, glancing between you and Peter, and then looked down to the floor. Vulnerable. There was a moment of silence. And then he spoke. “That look.” Another moment of silence. “That look you give Peter when he’s not watching.” You suddenly felt a heavy weight on your chest. “Your turn.”
You had to take a moment to recover before you finally answered. “Uh, dare. I suppose.”
“Give Peter a lap dance,” Harry ordered, and your eyes went wide. “Strip for me.”
“I…” you were at a loss for words, Peter looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Go on,” Harry encouraged. “Give me a show.”
“What’s your song?” Peter asked all of a sudden, and it caught you off guard.
“My song?” you looked at him, confused.
“That song that makes you feel sexy and unstoppable,” Peter clarified. “What’s that song?”
Suddenly, Skin by Rihanna was playing through Harry’s surround sound bedroom speakers and you were in Peter’s lap, grinding down on him, making him audibly moan. Harry was sitting directly across from the two of you, his hand palming himself through his jeans as he watched with darkened eyes, Peter growing hard underneath you, his erection straining against the denim of his skinny jeans. You expertly slid your top up off of your shoulders and tossed it to the floor, revealing your Victoria’s Secret push up bra, the one you had been wearing since high school. The one Harry bought you on a shopping trip when you were eighteen. Harry groaned at the sight, Peter whimpered, and you bit your lip, revealing the red lace and silver rhinestones. You had assumed maybe you would leave the party with some random hook up or get drunk and call your ex. That’s why you sported the lingerie. But this… never in a million years did you dream of this.
The song ended and you slowly crawled off of Peter’s lap, but he whined, suddenly grabbing you by the wrist. “You’re not done yet,” he argued. Harry suddenly sat up, thoroughly entertained, invested, intrigued. “Bottoms off. Now.”
Your heart skipped a beat at this sudden newfound dominance from Peter, and you nodded, thumbs delving underneath the band of your daisy dukes before Harry tsked aloud. “What do you tell him, babydoll?” he coaxed.
“Y-yes sir,” you answered on demand.
“Good girl,” Harry affirmed. Peter nodded in agreement, eyes darkened with nothing but lust, fixated on your fingers which were now toying with the zipper. You slid them down your thighs until they hit your ankles, showing off a matching red thong, and you could see the precum leaking out of Peter and staining his jeans. You gasped at the sight, and Peter’s eyes rolled to the back of his head upon seeing you in nothing but your bra and panties. “Turn around y/n. Give Pete a view of that ass I love so much.” And you did as told, Harry gawking at your tits, still touching himself over his pants, visibly hard now too.
“Your turn,” you winked, kicking your shorts off to the side, then sitting on the sofa beside him.
“I’m feeling some type of way,” Harry purred. “Dare.”
“I dare you to take care of Peter,” you smirked. Peter panicked. Harry lost his composure. “Or… Make Peter take care of you.”
“Come here, baby boy,” Harry cooed. Peter was already drooling like a dog, big brown eyes full of submission, one second away from a nervous wreck. He looked like he might burst into a panic attack. Or kill over. Maybe both. “You’re mine, Parker.”
You were in such a daze you couldn’t really piece together what happened first, but all you knew is both of the boys shed their jeans on the floor and Harry’s hand was down Peter’s boxer briefs, jerking him off and making him whimper into Harry’s neck. And then suddenly Peter was on his knees kissing Harry’s hard on through the fabric of his underwear, begging to let his cock spring free. When it did, both you and Peter involuntarily moaned. He was huge. Like… Eight inches huge. “Jesus Christ,” you hissed.
“What? Are you just gonna look at it or are you gonna suck it, sweetheart?” Harry suggested condescendingly. Which although he was an asshole about almost everything, just made him so much hotter in your eyes. Fuckboy through and through. It was almost effortless to him. His dirty thoughts spewing out of his mouth as natural as breathing or thinking.
The sight of Peter with Harry’s cock in his mouth made you insanely wet. “Fuck the game,” you declared. “Fuck… fuck me.”
Their eyes diverted directly towards yours, Peter still with Harry in his mouth, both of them drunk and horny as all hell. “Listen,” Harry yanked Peter up by his hair. “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of her, and you’re gonna shut her the fuck up with your dick.” Peter’s eyes widened. “Imagine all her moans vibrating around your pretty little cock.” He leaned in so he was whispering in Peter’s ear now. “So inadvertently, I’m still fucking you too.” Peter tilted his head back and closed his eyes, whimpering again. God you were soaked.
“Bed,” you invited. “Peter, my mouth, now. Harry…” Your eyes caught his and you breathlessly sighed. “This pussy is all yours.”
“W-wha?” Peter swiveled his head around to look at you, sad puppy dog eyes boring into yours.
“For now,” you rescinded. “Sorry Peter, but you know nice guys finish last.”
Harry snickered at that, crawling on top of you as Peter mustered up the courage to come join you two on the bed. “As pretty as you look in this lace right now, I think we’re gonna have to see it come off,” he growled, starting to make out with you, his hand kneading your breasts over the bra. “I think personally it would look so much better on the floor.”
“I’m taking these home with me,” Peter whispered, delicately tracing over the rhinestone band on the hip part of your panties. “Do you know how often I fantasize about… about…”
“About what Pete?” Harry mused. “Finish your sentence.”
“About jerking off with a pair of her panties,” Peter confessed. “Cumming all over them.”
“Fuck,” Harry laughed, half disturbed and half turned on. “You really are a pervert, aren’t you, Parker?”
“Y-you think about that?” you stammered, breaking away from Harry’s kisses for a moment to look at Peter laying beside you on the bed, toying with himself, precum still leaking from his slit.
“I think so many dirty thoughts and fantasies about you,” he admitted, starting to jerk himself off while maintaining eye contact with you. “I think about…”
“Be a big boy,” Harry reminded.
“I think about Harry fucking you,” he said. “And him forcing me to watch.”
“Oh? Do you now?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “No, I think you deserve to be a part of the show.” Harry kissed down from your mouth to your neck to your breasts, unclasping the back of your bra and tossing it to the side, then taking one of your nipples in his mouth, pinching the other one and making you yelp. He switched sides, and then hummed with approval, suddenly licking his way down from your sternum to your belly button, making you gasp. Then he rested his face at your sex, looking up at you. “I’ve always wondered what your pussy looked like.”
“Haven’t you, Pete?” he prodded. “Ever wonder what y/n looks like naked?”
“All the fucking time,” he murmured.
“You dress like a whore,” Harry degraded you. “Wearing those crop tops and those short shorts and showing off your tits and ass and posting those photos of you in your bikini… the amount of times I’ve mentally undressed you with my eyes…” His breath is hot between your legs, and he takes a moment to brace himself before tugging down your panties. He’s left speechless.
“Move,” Peter practically shoves him to the side, desperate to get a view. “Oh holy fuck…”
So yeah, you shaved your pussy. So what? You just wanted to be… prepared for anything.
“You fucking slut,” Harry mouthed. Peter was already shoving his face between your legs, burying his tongue in your pussy.
“Oh!” you exclaimed as his mouth made contact with your folds, and Harry rolled his eyes.
“Of course Parker eats pussy,” he teased. “I bet he’d drown in it if you let him.”
Peter was rolling his tongue in circles over your clit when Harry shoved him aside this time, harsher than he probably intended to. “I wasn’t done,” Peter insisted, trying to shove him back, but Harry overpowered him.
“She’s wet enough,” he scowled. “She was practically dripping the moment we started kissing her.” He arranged himself so his cock lined up with your pussy. “Don’t just sit there and stare like an idiot, Peter. Facefuck the bitch.”
“I’m sorry?” Peter instantly flinched.
“You heard me,” Harry challenged, eyes darker than ever, slapping his thick hard cock against your pussy. “Facefuck the bitch.”
This time Peter shoved Harry so hard he nearly fell off the bed.
“Boys!” you screamed as Harry stumbled up from his fall, Peter gritting his teeth, Harry baring his like some kind of beast.
“Call her a bitch again,” Peter threatened.
“You act like she doesn’t like being degraded,” Harry huffed. “Y/n, come here.”
You sat up in the bed, swallowing awkwardly, Peter’s eyes on you, Harry’s eyes on Peter. “Y-yes sir?” you stuttered out.
“You like being called a slut, don’t you?” Harry asked. “You sure act like one.” Before you knew it, his hand was wrapped around your throat, choking you.
“Harry, don’t,” Peter warned, growing madder by the minute.
“Oh but she likes it,” Harry pouted mockingly. “Don’t you baby?”
Your eyes welled up with tears, glancing at Peter, when suddenly, Harry slapped you. Your eyes went wide. Peter froze. “Don’t look at him, you look at me,” Harry growled. Your cheek stung from where he had hit you. “Answer the question.” A pause. “Do you like it or not?”
“I like it,” you confessed quietly. Peter exhaled the breath he had been holding, looking solemn and almost disappointed in you, sad.
“I knew it.” He scoffs at Peter’s concern. “Yeah you like it when Daddy roughhouses you around like a ragdoll, don’t you?” Harry grabbed you by the cheeks, squeezing your face hard, causing your lips to pucker up into a kiss. “Open your mouth.” You did as told, and he spat inside it, making the most unintelligible sound come out of Peter’s throat. “Swallow.” And you did. “Good girl.” He turned towards Peter again, flashing a smile. “See? She fucking loves it.”
“Y-you want me to f-fuck your face?” Peter stammered, looking at you like he was asking permission to do something unspeakable.
“Gotta stretch out her holes and put her to good use,” Harry snickered, pushing you back onto the mattress and spreading your legs open, positioning himself again. “Pete, I’m not gonna start until you do.”
“R-right,” he struggled to recover, crawling up above you and positioning his legs on either side of your head, his six inch cock pressed up to your face, his balls against your chin. His voice got soft, almost reverent. “You look so pretty like that.”
“Yeah?” you looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears. “You like resting your dick on my pretty face?”
They both penetrated you at the same time. The feeling was euphoric. Harry roughly breached your walls, shoving his entire length inside of you at once, stretching you out to the point where you were whining around Peter’s cock. Peter began slowly thrusting into your mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, groaning at the sensation. Harry slowly pulled completely out, before roughly inserting himself again.
“Fuck she’s tight,” Harry cursed, starting to pick up a rhythm, his fingernails digging into your thighs.
“You feel so good,” Peter moaned, still sticking to slow, deep thrusts. His hands slowly pet your hair, brushing it away from your face, his big brown doe eyes locked with yours. He didn’t say it, but you could feel it. Him telling you thank you. You started working for it, sliding your tongue against his shaft, suctioning your cheeks around his dick, and he instantly pulled out.
“W-what’s wrong?” you frowned, concerned maybe it didn’t feel good or you had hurt him in some type of way. That’s when you tasted the salty bleachy flavor of his precum in your mouth.
“I didn’t want to cum yet,” he confessed. “I didn’t want to-”
“Move out of the way, Parker,” Harry suddenly knocked Peter to the side, pulling out and grabbing you by the hips, violently flipping you over so that you were on your stomach. “Face down, ass up.”
You couldn’t tell who was more shocked by this action, you or Peter. But you did as told. Harry spanked you roughly before shoving his dick inside you again, and this time, you couldn’t hold back your whines. “Harry, Harry, fuck, Harry-”
“What? Is my big thick cock too much for you to handle?” he bullied you. “You want me to go slow and gentle and easy on you like Peter?” He buried your face into the pillows. “Too fucking bad.” He started fucking you even harder, one hand on your hip and the other pulling your hair.
“Harry!” you yelped and you briefly caught Peter’s face, half horrified and half absolutely captivated.
“Fucking fuck,” Harry panted, going harder and harder. His cock twitched inside of you and your eyes grew wide, terrified.
“Harry,” you warned. “Harry pull out.”
“Nope, not happening,” he insisted.
“You’re wearing a condom right?” Peter asked. A moment of silence. “Right?”
“Harry,” you said his name louder, him still not listening.
“You’re acting like you don’t take birth control,” Harry laughed, still relentlessly fucking you, and Peter opened his mouth to say something and then promptly closed it.
“I’m not fucking kidding Harry,” you started to panic, lifting your head up from the pillows. “Don’t cum inside me.”
“I’ll get you a Plan B,” he sighed casually. “Come on. Tell me you want it.”
“Harry,” Peter glared at him with dagger eyes.
“Tell me you want me to cum inside your pussy,” Harry coaxed. “Say it.”
“I…” you hesitated. It felt so good. He felt so good. And admittedly, you had never let anyone cum inside you before, not even your ex. “I…”
“Y/n, you don’t have to-”
“Give me permission, bitch. I know you want to.”
And suddenly, everyone in that moment broke. Harry orgasmed. You gave in. And Peter was hurt. Pleasure washed through Harry’s system. Shame began to eat away at you as you gave into one of your deepest darkest desires. And a metaphorical knife stabbed Peter in the chest as he watched his best friend breed you. Harry groaned as he came inside you, filling you up with his semen, and he pulled out, wiping the sweat off his forehead. You slowly turned over onto your back, looking up at Harry, and his eyes fixated on the sight of the creampie between your legs. He stared at it for maybe ten seconds before he looked at Peter.
“What?” Peter blinked at him in disbelief.
“Since you like eating pussy so much,” Harry insisted. “Eat it.”
“Drink my cum out of her pussy. Yes.”
“Fuck,” both you and Peter whimpered at the same time.
You expected Peter to protest. Maybe shove Harry again. Say something harsh. But to your surprise, he looked at you, looked at Harry, and then began moving between your legs. “Oh holy shit,” you gasped. And he did.
“Now you know what both of us taste like,” Harry smirked proudly, crossing his arms over his chest like an evil villain, eyes transfixed on the performance before him.
Peter was lapping at your cunt like a dog, slowly sipping the cum seeping out of your pussy, your fingers tangled in his messy brown hair, his glasses abandoned somewhere on the mattress. His tongue glided up and down, up and down, swallowing every drop. He teased your entrance, prodding with his tongue, until he was quite literally tongue fucking you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head with ecstasy.
“Peter!” you exclaimed, tugging on locks of his brown hair, squeezing your thighs against his cheeks, but he was relentless, eating you out like his life depended on it. The tip of his tongue circled around your clit, rolling around and around, and you cried out. “Peter! Peter! Peter god you’re gonna make me-”
“Holy fucking shit,” Harry laughed in disbelief. “Did she just…”
Peter looked up at you, your juices dripping down his lips and tongue and chin, grinning from ear to ear, catching his breath, staring at you like he just made the goddamn Mona Lisa smile.
“I’ve never done that before,” you confessed, embarrassed, blushing red.
“You just squirted,” Peter pointed out, still smiling proudly. “Fucking hot.”
“What’s she taste like Pete?” Harry crooned.
“Come here and find out,” Peter dared. Again, confidence on Peter looked hot as hell. Harry moved over to where Peter was sitting between your legs and Peter grabbed him by the back of his head and passionately made out with him. You couldn’t keep your jaw from dropping, watching as the two boys kissed. When they finally pulled away, Harry looked at you, and then at Peter.
“Your turn,” he smirked. “I know you’ve been dreaming about it for years. She’s just as good as you think she is. Even better.”
Peter glanced at you warily, like you’re something he might break, and you just nodded encouragingly. “I can take it,” you insisted. “Wanna feel you, Peter. Want all of you.”
Harry sat back on the edge of the end of the bed, starting to get hard again as he watched Peter climb on top of you nervously, lower lip quivering as his erection brushed up against your wet folds. “D-do you want me to get a c-condom?” he stuttered and you shook your head adamantly, eyes twinkling up at him.
“Condoms are for losers,” Harry barked, starting to touch himself. “Cum inside her like a real man.”
“I don’t want to get you… you know…” Peter whispered. “Pregnant.”
The word made you whimper out loud.
“Oh Jesus Christ, Pete, can you imagine?” Harry threw his head back in laughter. “We both cum inside her and she gets pregnant and then we have to find out who the real father is? Now that’s-”
“Shut the fuck up Harry,” you growled. “This is Peter’s time. He can do whatever he wants.”
“Whatever I want?” Peter looked at you in a daze.
“Yeah baby,” you smiled. “I’m yours for the taking. Harry already had his fun. Now it’s all about you.”
“I just want to make you feel good,” Peter admitted, his hand squeezing one of your breasts tenderly. His thumb brushed up against your nipple, rubbing in small circles. Then his hand dragged down your stomach to the insides of your thighs. “Can I?”
You simpered at his request for consent. He was nothing like Harry. In the best way. You nodded and his fingers touched your folds, slowly trailing up and down, before he inserted a finger into you, pumping in and out. You hummed, closing your eyes, and he added another finger, curling them inside of you. This thumb found your clit, pressing against it hard, and then fingering you faster. “Peter,” you warned.
“Do it,” he insisted. “Squirt for me again.”
“Peter!” you squealed, coming undone, this time your juices spraying all over his chest and your stomach. You were making such a mess.
“So wet for me,” he purred. “So beautiful. So perfect.” He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed in slowly, making your head reel. Sure, Harry was bigger, but Peter felt just as good, if not better. And instead of his tip bruising your cervix like Harry’s did, it was the perfect length to brush up right against your G spot, which made you see stars once he started thrusting into you. “Come on baby, you can take it. Be a good girl. That’s it.”
“Fuck Peter,” you buried your face into his neck. “So sensitive…”
“I know, I know,” he hushed. He planted a kiss to your forehead that made you melt. “You’re doing so good. Taking my dick deep inside you.”
You whined softly at his words, bucking your hips up to meet his, and he took a moment to sling your legs up over his shoulders, able to fuck you even deeper now. Your eyes widened at the sight of your ankles resting on his shoulders, your knees pressing your boobs together, Peter on top of you going faster this time. You caught a glimpse of Harry at the end of the bed, watching through half lidded eyes, jerking himself off at the same rhythm Peter was fucking you. You dreamed about something like this. For years. And now…
“I’m gonna, I’m gonna… fuck,” Peter tossed his head back, making one of the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard, a strangled moan. He pulled out, and you whined at the loss of contact, feeling empty, until you felt him move closer to you, your legs still propped up on his shoulders, jerking off until he came all over your face.
“Well shit, Parker,” Harry gasped.
Your mouth hung agape, Peter’s semen decorating your face, and he groaned at the sight. “Such a pretty little mess for me,” he breathed.
Sometime between Peter fucking you and Peter cumming all over your face, Harry had brought the remaining bottle of vodka over to the bed, taking swigs between jerking himself off, and offering it to you and Peter after you had both finished. It was safe to say all three of you were completely wasted. Borderline black out drunk. You remember blowing Harry while Peter fucked you from behind. You also remember both of them trying to fuck you at the same time. You remember something about Harry joking about recording a sex tape, and Peter being incredibly defiant against it. You all had been thoroughly fucked through, and after all of you had cum at least three times, you found yourselves cuddling naked in Harry’s bed, sighing at the comfort of it all, giggling at nothing. You were leaning on Peter’s chest and Peter was curled underneath Harry’s arm.
The bass of the music downstairs kept booming. The chatter and roar of laughter from the college kids partying below. The time on Harry’s Rolex read 4am. “Okay, okay one more game,” Peter piped up, and both you and Harry raised your eyebrows, intrigued. “Honesty hour.”
“Oh my god,” Harry groaned. “Might as well be group therapy.”
“No it’ll be fun,” you insisted. “Come on, Har. I’m sure you have plenty of dirty filthy secrets to disclose.”
“Oh and I bet you do too,” he retorted. “You go first, Y/n. Do you own any sex toys?”
Your entire face flushed red.
“Oh my god she totally does,” Peter laughed.
“Okay maybe I do,” you admitted.
“Now you gotta tell us what they are,” Harry prodded.
“A small pink vibrator and a purple dildo,” you confessed.
“How big is the dildo?” Peter inquired.
“Six inches,” you whispered.
“I bet you moan our names while you’re fucking yourself with it,” Harry snickered.
“You have a fleshlight literally named after a pornstar,” Peter glared at him and Harry froze.
“I… That…” for the first time in your life, you witnessed Harry Osborn struggling to find a witty comeback or a sarcastic remark.
“What? Was supposed to be a secret?” Peter taunted. “No more secrets. Between all of us. Everything out in the open.”
“Well fine, since you’re so eager to share,” Harry snorted. “Do you masturbate to y/n’s Instagram photos?”
“Do you?” you wondered. “Which ones?”
“Maybe I do,” Peter huffed, trying to play innocent. “The bikini ones.”
“Ha! I knew it!” Harry grinned.
“You only know it because you probably do it too,” you rolled your eyes.
“I bet he zooms in on your face and then cums all over his phone screen,” Harry teased.
“That’s it, your turn,” Peter grew irritated. “Body count?”
“Hell if I know,” Harry chortled.
“Oh Jesus, should we get tested?” you mumbled. Peter laughed nervously.
“I’m clean!” Harry quickly cleared any suspicions. “I get tested regularly, I’m clean!”
“Thank god,” you let out a low whistle.
“More than fifty or less than fifty?” Peter wagered.
“Well fuck,” you laughed.
“Y/n… have you ever taken a nude?” Peter piped up.
“Pshhh of course,” you narrowed your eyes. “Hasn’t everyone?”
Peter shook his head and both you and Harry stared at him incredulously. “You have never taken a nude in your life?” both of you asked, stunned.
“Dude, you’ve never taken a dick pic?” Harry coughed.
“I took a shirtless picture like… once or twice…”
“Of course you think it’s cute.”
“Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater!” Harry announced. “What’s your biggest regret?”
“Not asking Y/N out to prom,” he answered immediately. Both you and Harry blinked. “What?” Peter scowled.
“You took no time thinking about that,” Harry said flatly.
“You wanted to ask me to prom?” you asked, surprised.
“I thought about it every day for two months,” Peter confessed. “I couldn’t sleep at night.”
“I thought about it too,” Harry conceded. “More than I’d like to admit.”
“What happened?” you cried. “Both of you?”
“Your ex asked you out instead,” Peter reminded. “I cried myself to sleep that night.”
“Oh?” your heart broke into a million pieces.
“You cried yourself to sleep? Seriously?” Harry snorted.
“Oh and I bet you hit the gym for three hours straight,” Peter retorted, and Harry went quiet. “Yeah that’s what I thought.”
“It was the casino, and no, it was all night,” Harry corrected. “I lost $10K.”
“That makes it so much better,” you groaned sarcastically. “Anywho… Harry, have you ever been in love?”
“Don’t ask me that shit,” his face crinkled up in disgust.
“I mean it,” you shook your head. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Okay y/n, you of all people cannot ask me that question,” he insisted.
“So Peter, you ask him,” you encouraged.
“That does not make it any better,” Harry complained.
“Because I’ve loved him longer,” Harry said quicker than he could process the words leaving his mouth. He instantly turned red and silent. Peter and you choked on air.
“Did you just… confess your love for me?” Peter asked slowly.
Peter stared at him, annoyed. “Admit it. You’re in love with me.”
Harry buries his face in his hands. “I’m not answering that, Peter.”
“Come on Harry,” you poked the bear.
Harry unhooks his arm from around Peter’s shoulder and physically rolls off the bed. There’s a faint thud and then a brief groan.
“You can run but you can’t hide,” you teased in a sing song voice.
“I need a drink,” he grumbled from the floor.
“We’re out of vodka,” you reminded. “No more drinks.”
“Bourbon,” he said, voice muffled. “Bar. Bourbon.”
“The last thing you need is a drink,” Peter rolled his eyes, slowly slipping away from you to check on Harry on the floor. “How long?”
“What is wrong with both of you?” he whined. “Jesus Christ.”
“Harry, look at me,” Peter pleaded, and when he lifted his head up from the floor, Peter’s entire body faltered. There was an expression on Harry’s face Peter had never seen before in the span of their entire friendship. Fear. Authentic, genuine, raw fear. He was vulnerable. Scared. Real. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Peter repeated. “Oh no.”
Suddenly, everything hit Peter like a freight train. He stared, still processing, still connecting years of memories. Every weird awkward moment. Every screaming match. Every petty fight. Every stupid argument. Every time Harry had shown up for him when it mattered. Every time Harry had remembered something nobody else did, not even y/n. Every time Harry had cared far more than he pretended. Their first kiss replayed in his head on a loop.
Harry fell face first down onto the carpet again, letting out a defeated groan.
“You were totally in love with him,” you gasped. “Oh my god. During high school you were totally in love with Peter.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry raised his head for a brief moment. “And during high school, Peter was totally in love with you.”
“Wha-” Peter looked like he glitched.
“Y-you were?” you stared at Peter, shell shocked by this sudden revelation.
“Y/n don’t act surprised,” Harry scowled. “The boy looks at you like you’re some sort of goddess.”
“She is,” Peter exhaled softly. “She totally is.”
“You were in love with me in high school?” you stated, staring at Peter, then looking at Harry still laid flat on the floor, the back at Peter.
“Okay, can we just assume we’re all in love with each other?” Peter laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “All these confessions, these secrets… I think it’s safe to say we’re all in love with each other.”
“So what do we do?” you asked. “What now?”
“Bourbon,” Harry insisted.
“That’s not the correct answer,” Peter sighed.
“Wait until we’re sober,” you shrugged. “And see if we still feel the same way.”
A moment of silence washed over the room and you three looked at each other, finally weighing the reality of the situation at hand. You kissed each other. You fucked each other. You confessed your love for each other. And now… you had to live with those consequences.
“You,” you pointed at Harry. “You owe me a Plan B.”
“I know,” Harry rolled his eyes, laughing, embarrassed.
“And you,” you pointed at Peter. “You owe me a creampie.”
“Oh Jesus Christ,” Peter looked like he was going to pass out. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Well she’s one hell of a way to go,” Harry grinned. Suddenly, his grin grew twice as wide. “Wait, does this mean y/n’s my girlfriend now?” He paused. Grin growing as wide as humanely possible. “Wait. Does this mean Peter’s my boyfriend now?”
“Shut up and go to sleep,” Peter threw a pillow at Harry on the ground.
“Get up here and cuddle with us, Osborn,” you demanded. “We’ll talk about it at breakfast tomorrow.”
“Ooo breakfast tomorrow, huh?” he perked up, crawling back onto the bed and rearranging himself on the other side of you, the boys creating one big naked threesome sandwich.
“After morning sex of course,” you winked.
“The death of me,” Peter repeated, shaking his head and chuckling softly. “She’s gonna be the death of me I swear.”
