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hyunsvngs · 2 months

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𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞-𝐚-𝐡𝐨𝐞! - spiderman!han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 11.1k

cw: han jisung is spiderman, a brief attack of an alien in school, both characters are 18+ (legal) but are intended to be in high school, friends to lovers, jisung calling mc baby at any given moment

synopsis: you’re obsessed with spiderman, but after a certain event takes place, you become convinced your best friend and spiderman are the same person.

a/n: after a long wait… HEHE smut warnings under the cut and as usual 18+ MDNI!!!!!!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: brief mention of masturbation (both), oral (fem!rec), slightly switchy both parties, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, loss of virginity (both), cumswapping, relatively tame given that its me

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re intrigued.

Interested seemed like too little of a word to use for how you feel whenever you see the latest news report. In a world full of superhuman serums and bulletproof skin, he is still intriguing. Maths homework could be ignored, as far as you’re concerned - and that’s bold for you, because you love maths. You wonder if he likes maths, too.

Every night at 6pm sharp, you settle in front of the television and wait for the news. Spiderman, the hero in question, is always up to something. He loves shooting his webs across the tallest skyscrapers in the city, dangling from them precariously without a care before he lets out a loud, earth-shattering giggle and beats the newest bad-guy that your world has attracted. You always wince at the reports, wondering just how he healed from the injuries he must sustain. It had to be down to the spider venom, you supposed.

“He’s dangerous,” Your dad huffs. He’s lounging on his normal armchair, peeling leather be damned, munching on a bag of crisps. You grimace at his crisp covered digits motioning towards the television. You love your dad, really, and your mum - you just always differed in opinions when it came to Spiderman. He was so fucking cool, and you seriously feel like a child saying that all of the time, despite your best friend Jisung telling you that we all have our interests. “I mean, he’s putting normal civilians in danger. Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman my ass.”

“Honey,” Your mother admonishes, digging through her own bag of crisps. You briefly consider why you haven’t been offered one. They look tasty, when your father isn’t rubbing luminous orange dust onto his previously crisp white shirt. “You know she doesn’t like it when you say bad things about him. He- what was the word again, baby?”

“He intrigues me,” You mumble, pretending to erase equations from your homework. Your cheeks blaze crimson when your mother hums in agreement, nodding triumphantly to your father. You wish you could be as sassy as her sometimes. You’re more timid, hiding behind oversized hoodies and Jisung. He is a lot more confident than you, more loud and exuberant - you suppose that’s why he had adopted you as his all those years ago.

Your mother had been best friends with Jisung’s aunt, Sohee. She’s just like Jisung, zipping around the place at an insane pace to offer you snacks and drinks at every second. When you and Jisung had first met in preschool, you’d been drawing patterns in the mud with your grubby little fingers, hiding from the bullies. He’d criticised your drawing. He helped you fix it, though, chubby cheeks puffing out with a grin when it was good enough for his taste. Looking back now, that behaviour was so Jisung, but your mother had been delighted to find out that you’d already met her best friend’s son.

It had been easy becoming friends with him after that. Every day, he’d drag you by your wrist and take you to the yard, insisting on doing your co-operative drawings together. The teachers had a fit everyday on the state of you two by the end of your break, but your mothers had loved it, taking a million and one pictures a second. He stuck up for you both to the teachers, and then he stuck up for you to the bullies and it was like you’d known each other since birth. Inseparable at the hip, you’d been glued together throughout preschool, primary school and now high school - it doesn’t look like you’re getting rid of him anytime soon, either. You’d applied for the same colleges.

You don’t particularly want to be rid of him anyway. He’s alright, really, and you had a bit of a girly, high school crush on him. You would rather jump off of a building like Spiderman sans the webs if anyone found out.

Another thing Jisung is good for is listening to your rants. He waits for your call every night after the news had been on, and you clamber on your bed obediently after the report finishes to press on his contact.

“Jisung!” You squeal. There’s a lot of feedback on his end, and you hear a low ‘shit, fuck, oops, oh God’, until there’s a loud thud and he giggles, chiming through your tinny phone speakers. “... Ji? Are you okay?”

“Yep, sorry, baby,” He sounds out of breath, but you smile when he speaks anyway. Whenever he calls you baby, his designated nickname for you, it makes your heart flutter and you have to grimace to ignore it. His face pops into the little square designated to him, his cheeks blushing pink and round eyes wide. His hair is slightly damp, from what you’re not sure - but he looks cute. “I just got home. I was- I was running some errands for my aunt.”

“God, she’s got you running like crazy lately,” You mumble, still jotting down numbers on your homework. It’s taken you hours, but you always get distracted on nights like this. “Did you see it?”

Jisung hums, and then you hear him groan. He’s stretching, slightly toned honey-skinned arms appearing above his head in the plain oversized t-shirt he’s wearing. You try not to stare. “Did I see what?”

“The- the news, Sungie,” You feel shy mentioning it so outright. It is a weird interest, a weird thing to be obsessed with - Jisung often reassures you that it really isn’t, and his anime obsession was a lot worse. It was. You sigh, clearing your throat. “Spiderman. He was- he was super cool tonight.”

“Ooh, was he?” Jisung teases, chuckling when you groan in protest. “I’m only playing with you, baby. I saw it. He was super cool, wasn’t he?”

“Ha-ha, super cool, ‘cause he’s a superhero. You’re funny.”

“That’s why you keep me around,” Jisung chirps. “Hey, have you done the maths homework? I haven’t had time, because of the errands, y’know.”

“Hmm, yeah, I’m almost finished,” You aren’t. You’re far from it, really, but he doesn’t have to know that. “I can let you copy it tomorrow morning, before class.”

“No, that’s alright, baby. We can just cross-check our answers tomorrow,” His voice sounds tired, but you don’t comment. It’s better not to question Jisung when he’s like this.

His aunt has him doing a lot these days. You haven’t wanted to ask about it because you know it must be tough for her to look after Jisung since his parents passed, especially when Jisung is always going at full speed and is probably seconds away from giving his aunt a heart attack. He was always clumsy as a child, too, snapping his glasses in half and having a few broken bones to tell long stories about. He always means well, but sometimes you wish that he had something else to get his energy out of his system rather than stressing his aunt out.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Jisung, surely you know who Spiderman is, like, underneath the mask,” Seungmin quips through a mouthful of dry, government regulated school food. “You spent all that time with Bang Chan in the internship.”

Seungmin is a lanky boy that just came along one day and decided to be yours and Jisung’s friend. With him, he brought a younger, smiley guy named Jeongin, and Jeongin brought Felix. Felix is just Felix - nothing else can describe him. Before long, you’d found yourself in a de facto group of misfits that you weren’t even sure you could call friends. Apart from Jisung, of course.

Jisung simply raises an eyebrow in response to Seungmin. “I mean, sure. I met Mr Bang a few times, but I never met Spiderman. Not out of his suit, anyway.”

You gasp. Jeongin startles from the nap he was taking on the cafeteria table, raising his head to look at you angrily. Felix pushes his head back down from the hood on his jumper and Jeongin immediately falls back to sleep. “You met him in his suit?”

“Well, yeah,” Jisung shrugs. When he turns to look at you, your mouth is agape, feeling slightly betrayed. Jisung shoves another spoonful of cheese - was it really cheese? - pasta into his mouth, and then he’s sighing. “It’s not a big deal, baby. If I really met him, the real him, you’d be the first to know. I promise.”

“You still got that fat crush on Spiderman?” Felix chirps. You meet his amused gaze with your own steely glare, pouting over your packed lunch.

“It’s not a crush-”

“It’s an interest,” Jisung clarifies for you, and you smile. He’s always jumping to your defence like that. You bite into an apple, savouring the crisp, fruity taste on your tongue, and then the bell rings. Sighing, you watch as the boys around you get up - including Jeongin, fox like eyes bleary from sleep - and swing their bags on their shoulders.

“I’ll see you later,” You murmur to Jisung, who throws his arm around your waist in a quick hug. “Enjoy English.”

Right. You and Jisung didn’t have the same classes. He has English now, and you have chemistry, which is probably your least favourite of all classes. You just weren’t a fan of the whole blowing shit up scenario, unlike Jeongin was, and the boy trundles behind you towards your chemistry class.

The class is boring. The teacher drones on and on about some experiment you couldn’t care less about, and you pretend to care. You’re taking notes, sure, ever the diligent student - but you can’t get anything other than Spiderman out of your mind. Jisung met him, and didn’t tell you, and who even is this guy? You’d love to know. You’d love to just see him, even once, just to be able to tell the story.

A massive crash stops the teacher’s speech. He turns to the door, confused, and the students do the same. You do too, furrowed eyebrows staring at the door. Another crash causes people to begin to rise, and the teacher starts ushering everyone out of the class to the closest exit route. You’re frozen in confusion and fear, pencil halted in your fingers, even as another noise makes the teacher run out behind the class.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re still sitting in your seat, eyes wide and heart racing. Then, you spring up to follow the rest of your cohort, sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor as you run to the door. Swinging it open, you stick your head out the door and look around, trying to see if the coast is clear. With a planet full of interdimensional attacks, you can’t be sure, and looking left leads you to see a scaly, large animal type of thing. You squeak, startled, and immediately retreat into the class before it notices you. What the fuck do you do? What are you meant to do?

The whole room begins to shake, and you have a feeling the creature’s getting closer. Beakers are thrown to the floor from the vibration ringing throughout the room, glass shattering loudly, and you feel like you’re about to scream, or cry, or run, and you can’t run.

Doing the only thing you can think of, you cower to the floor, hiding underneath a table donned in smashed beakers. You’re curled up in a ball, watching students standing outside murmuring and discussing their own safety, and then the shaking stops.

The door swings open. Everything outside the classroom is too intimidating, items being thrown everywhere, and you can’t even bring your legs to move with how badly they’re shaking. Who’s just walked in? You pray for Jisung. You pray for someone who’s going to help you hide, someone who’s going to keep you safe, and then-

A masked face pops underneath the table. He’s lithe, slender, but the tight red and dark blue suit highlights the hint of abs and sculpted biceps on his body. Holy fucking shit. Your eyes widen. Spiderman is in your school.

“Are you okay?” His voice is deep, but it sounds almost like someone putting on a deeper voice to hide their identity. You nod hesitantly, and then he’s extending a gloved hand towards you, pulling you out from underneath the table. You’re unable to speak. Once you’re standing in front of him, you notice he’s around a head or so taller than you, but definitely not as tall as you thought he’d be. He sighs, chest heaving with panic. You suppose it must be pretty tough work fighting aliens from outer space. “I’ve webbed him up for now, but it won’t hold much longer. Go- please, go and run. Please, anywhere, just- go and hide, or run.”

“I-I-”

“Promise me, b- um, you. I can’t let you get hurt.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- Yes, I promise, I’m going to- I’ll go, thank you, thank you-”

“Wait, no!” He shouts, rubbing his temples - or at least, you’d imagine he was but he’s just rubbing the mask in frustration. You watch as he bounds over to the window, kicking it open, and the students outside turn to the classroom in awe. You’re rooted in place, as if vines are circling your ankles and securing you to the floor, mouth agape. You wait for him to give you further directions, and you gasp when he runs back over to you, picking you up and carrying you over to the window. You feel light as a feather, and all you can think is how he’s even carrying this amount of strength in that small body. “Too risky. Outside.”

“O-Outside?” You stammer, cheeks bright red, and he nods. He leans to place you out of the window, delicately placing you on your feet, and then he speeds off, shouting a quick “see you later!”.

You blink. You can hear the noises of walls breaking and windows shattering as Spiderman fights, and Felix runs up to you from the crowd outside and slings an arm over your shoulder. You’re still staring inside the classroom as if you can see through walls and watch the fight. What did see you later mean?

What’s the likelihood, honestly? You knew he was the friendly neighbourhood guy, and all that, but why not Bang Chan, in his sleek nanotech suit? This was a big fight. You find yourself getting worried, biting your nails in concern for the man you don’t even know. You have to remind yourself of that. He saved you because you’re any other citizen, not for any other specialty - you don’t know this guy.

“C’mon, over here,” Felix ushers you over, tone soft. When you’re with him, Seungmin and Jeongin, he sighs, rubbing your back. “Crazy, right? At least you can say you met Spiderman now.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung is safe, thank god. You kind of feel guilty for not worrying about him at the moment, but he’d text you shortly after, saying he’d left just before it all kicked off because he felt a little under the weather. He wanted to make sure you were okay, though, so he texted you as soon as he could. You’d never admit the blush that rose to your cheeks when you read it.

It’s quiet in your room. Your parents had sprinted to you as soon as you’d come through the door, having seen the situation on the news, and you’d reassured them that Spiderman had saved you. It definitely changed your dad’s perspective of him, and now you lie on your bed feeling more than relieved.

Your fingers tap on your tummy in thought, though. He was making his voice deeper, that much you could tell, but why? How was he there so quickly? There’s no fucking way he was a student. Still, that body in the tight suit… you’d definitely been looking. You’re a woman, of course you were going to look. He had a figure enviable to every man. Broad shoulders, abs just slightly visible, strong legs that carried you over to the window…

In your dreamlike fantasy, you’re considering something you previously never would’ve thought of. What if Jisung was underneath that suit? Now, that would be perfect. Both of your crushes being one being, Jisung pulling that suit up his lithe thighs and letting it settle over his broad pecs.

Before you know it, your hand is dipping under the hem of your pyjama pants, unable to feel guilty for thinking about your best friend in this way. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time, with many of your nights spent whimpering into your pillow and coming apart on your own fingers wishing they were his. He had such nice hands… What if it was him who had grabbed you from underneath that table? Your hand trails down to find your folds, slick and ready for whatever you had in store, but you focus on your clit, swollen and aching between your bottom lips. Would he finger you in the gloves if you asked, let you ride his abs in the suit until completion? Would he kiss you upside down, hanging from the-

A tap on your window makes you jump. The room is dark, save for your bedside lamp, and you turn rapidly to see a faceless figure just about popping in from the corner. You yank your hand out of your bottoms, squeaking, and then you squint to try and see the figure closer.

Holy shit. Spiderman is at your bedroom window.

Your cotton tank top is revealing, so you turn immediately to reach for your dressing gown and tie it around your figure. You pad over to the window in your socks, still wide-eyed and completely baffled, and then you turn the handle to allow him access. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” You blurt, toes curling against your floor. Spiderman swings inside instead of responding, walking around your room like he’s been there a million times before. “No, seriously, what the fuck?”

He turns to you, shrugging. “I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

You blanch. He did say that, yes, but that still doesn’t explain the million questions you have right now. “Well, yeah, but- how do you know where I live?”

“I- uh, found it in the school office,” He hops up onto your bed, sitting cross legged. His mask hides his face, but he hums in pleasure at the feeling of the bedsheets on him. “After the fight, I went in there. Glad you’re okay, by the way.”

He’s still making his voice deeper, and you blink, nodding in response. “I’m great. Can I- can I ask why you’re here?”

He shrugs again, fiddling with a loose thread on your duvet. “No reason. Got bored. I was swinging around and remembered I saw your address on the computer.”

“Right,” You shake your head, still baffled. Instead of questioning him further, you jump onto the bed in front of him and copy his position, cross legged. “Don’t you have, like, recovering to do? I heard you got beat pretty bad.”

“Nah, no way,” He scoffs, rolling his neck. You suppress a smile. Cocky. “Spider venom, y’know? It repairs everything super quick.”

You were right. You can’t suppress a smile at his response, clicking your fingers at his masked face. “I fucking knew it! I guessed it was the venom.”

He stops fiddling with the duvet, turning to you and tilting his head in question. “You’re smart, aren’t you? Hey, are you the one that’s friends with that kid?”

You narrow your eyes. Jisung’s a liar. If Spiderman knows who he is, that means they’ve met more than once, and Jisung lied. You reach for your phone, ready to bitch him out via text, but Spiderman knocks your phone out of your hand. You turn to him, confused.

“Talk to me,” He whines. “I told you I was bored!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, damn. Yes, I’m friends with Jisung. Why?”

“No reason,” He wiggles forward on your bed, grabbing your hand. You’re confused, but then he launches you into an intense thumb war, one that you were never going to win. Everytime you go to move your thumb in response to his, he’s got you pinned, and before he speaks again you’re five rounds down. “He’s pretty cool, right?”

“Who?” You ask, still focusing on the thumb war.

“Jisung,” He clarifies, clearing his throat. Making his voice that deep must be taking its toll on his vocal chords. “He’s kinda cool. Super smart, I thought.”

“He definitely is,” You laugh when he pins your thumb down again, swatting at his wrist to get him off of you. “He’s smarter than me.”

“And, uh,” He clears his throat again, leaning back on your bed. Leaning back like that, you have a full view of his body in his suit, and you have to stare at the posters on your wall to avoid looking at him. He puts his hands behind his head, the full picture of relaxation, and you wished he’d stop throwing you this random curveball behaviour. “Is that all you think of him? Just smart?”

You blush, finally reverting your eyes to him. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean… Do you have a crush on him, or?”

“Who wants to know?” You bristle, playing with your hands in your lap. You look down at your chipped nail polish, awkwardly shifting on the bed in your pyjamas. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“No one knows who I am,” He responds easily. “I want to know. Tell me. Do you have a crush on him?”

“I’m not telling you that-”

“I’m bored!” He whines again, sitting up. You let him grab your hand again, pulling your pinky finger into a promise. You swear you see the mask smile. “Tell me!”

“Okay, damn,” You sigh, exasperated. Was he on molly or something? Are you dreaming? “I guess so. I guess I always have, yeah, I don’t know. I don’t think he’d ever like me like that.”

He coos at that, taking your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting. “Why not?”

“He’s- well, I don’t think I’m good enough for someone like him,” You admit, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s awkward. He’s my best friend. It would ruin things, and I guess I’ve never let myself think about it like that.”

“You should,” He hums. You blink, staring at him. What the hell is he on about? “I just mean you should. Maybe he likes you too, y’know? I like my best friend. I’d love to know if she likes me back.”

“You do?” You wiggle closer, eager to know more. “You like your best friend? What’s she like?”

“Well,” He strokes your hand again before pulling away, leaning his chin on his hand. “She’s super pretty. Smart, too. I’ve known her since like, forev- for a few years, I think, in total.”

“It’s kind of the same with me and Jisung,” You sigh again, pouting. “I’ve known him for my whole life, basically. I’m just scared it’ll ruin things, but I think about him a lot when I’m on my own.”

He snickers. “Really? Like when you’re doing what you were doing when I got here?”

You swat at his shoulder, blushing bright red. “Shut up, oh my god! I thought you- shut up. Just don’t.”

“Maybe he thinks about you then too, I don’t know,” He shrugs nonchalantly, and then he’s getting up and pacing around. You watch him fiddle with a few photo frames on your desk, humming at ones of you and Jisung when you were younger and even fiddling with a few of your academic medals and prizes. “I won’t tell him, by the way.”

“You see him often?” You ask, voice soft. “He said-”

“Nah, I’ve only seen him once or twice,” He stretches his arms above his head, still staring at your desk full of trinkets. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

“Can I know?”

He turns to you. “Know what?”

“I want to know who you are,” Your voice is confident, but you feel anything but, teeth chewing your bottom lip nervously. “You saved me, and now you’re in my bedroom. I feel that I deserve to know.”

He sighs loudly this time, walking towards the window. “When we get to know eachother better, maybe.”

“Wait, hang on,” You watch him sling a foot out of the window, exasperated. He can’t leave! “Where are you going? I thought you said you were bored-”

“Things to do, baby,” He replies quickly. You blink. That ‘baby’ sounds awfully familiar, and you stand up quickly to walk towards the window, but he’s already webbing away. “Bye!”

You stand there, shocked and confused. He’s swinging from building to building away from you, and you’re just standing there like an idiot. You were interrupted before you could even start touching yourself, forced into a thumb war and coerced into admitting your deepest, darkest secret, and then he just… leaves? Just like that?

Your life is proving to be a little more interesting than you thought, but your dreams were filled with familiar round cheeks beneath a red and blue mask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Baby, is there a reason why your eyes are burning holes into the side of my head?”

You’re convinced your best friend is Spiderman. There, sitting beside you with his glasses sliding down his nose and comfortable in a grey hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms on, it’s hard to believe. But you’re not stupid.

First of all, since he started that internship with Mr Bang, he’s been weird about letting you inside his room. This is the same person that you had many sleepovers with growing up, and as recently as a few months ago you’d been cuddling in bed together watching Howl’s Moving Castle. He has something to hide, but you’d been let down when you’d arrived at his house earlier and shouldered past him to find literally nothing of suspicion inside his room, other than an anime girl mouse pad with the boobs to rest your wrist on. You knew that existed though, ever since his birthday last year when Felix had gifted it to him, so what gives?

Secondly, Sohee is more stressed out than ever. You’d caught sight of her flitting around the kitchen when you arrived for your homework friend-date, scrubs on and ready to head to the hospital but still panicking about something. Jisung said multiple times that he’d been helping her out more and that’s why he’s been so busy lately. She shouldn’t still be panicking.

Thirdly, Spiderman wouldn’t make his voice deeper to you unless you knew him. He wouldn’t need to, or you wouldn’t recognise his voice - unless it’s a habit he’s picked up, perhaps. That doesn’t change that the way he called you baby last night sounded a little bit too familiar, too comfortable. It came out of his mouth like second nature.

Still, it makes no sense. Surely Jisung would have told you? You’re his best friend, he said so, so he’d tell you. Or would he? Maybe Felix knows. You’re also hoping deep down that it isn’t true, because if it is, you told your crush last night that you liked him.

You can’t even be mad at Jisung for it. He’s still staring at you, and you’re staring blankly back while shoving snacks into your mouth. There’s crumbs all over your homework.

“Jisung,” You begin, and he hums in response. “Would you tell me your deepest, most serious secret if I worked it out?”

He chokes on his energy drink, spluttering neon blue liquid all over his bed. You want to giggle, to make fun of him, but you’re sure you’ve gotten somewhere here. He wipes his mouth, clears his throat, and turns back to you. His hands are shaky where they clutch his textbook, and his eyes are almost blurry through the glasses. “I tell you everything anyway.”

“I don’t think you do,” You respond, quick as a beat. He blinks, lips parting. “Not by that reaction, Jisung. I think you’re hiding something from me.”

He scratches his nose with the end of his pen, looking down at the textbook again. You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“Okay,” You hum. He sighs, scribbling something on the paper. It’s so quiet in the room that you can hear his pen scribbling, but you’re speaking again before you can even think. “Did I tell you Spiderman came to my room last night?”

He gulps audibly. “Nope.”

“Yeah, it was kinda weird,” You take a sip from your energy drink, still staring at him vacantly. Jisung’s eyes flit up to you, and then back down to the textbook. Oh, he knows. He knows that you know. He knows that you know that he knows. “He saved me in school, when that alien thing was there, and then he came to my room and asked me about you.”

“He, uh- really? Did he?”

“Mhm,” Your gaze is steely. “Jisung, I know you’re Spiderman.”

Jisung bursts out laughing. It would be believable, but you’ve known him since you were four years old and it’s a fake laugh. He’s cackling, loud as brass, and he lets out a little “ooh” afterwards as if he can’t believe you. “Baby, that’s the craziest theory you’ve ever come up with.”

“Is it?” You question, head tilting to the side. Then, in the smartest moment you’ve ever had, you pick up Jisung’s energy drink from the floor. He’s still looking at you, a fake smile on his lips, and you take a sip from it casually. Sharing drinks isn’t new for you. You glug back the artificial blue raspberry flavour, and then keeping eye contact with him, you let go.

Before the can is able to fall and spill the rest of its contents over your own textbook, and inevitably Jisung’s One Piece bed sheets, he reaches out and grabs it, hand wrapping around the can, quick as a flash. It all happens in about a second, and you gasp. Jisung gasps. His hand tightens around the can and it crinkles, an impossible show of strength, and then he’s blinking at you. You raise an eyebrow.

“I knew it.”

He puts the can safely on the bedside table, and then he’s slamming his textbook shut. You watch in confusion as he paces back and forth on his bedroom floor, running his hands through his hair over and over.

“Okay!” He points at you, victorious. “That was a reflex. I knew you were going to do that, I’m smart, duh! I knew you were going to drop the can to prove something, and-”

“Jisung,” You say, voice soft. He stops pacing, sock clad feet rooted on the carpet to stare at you. You’re going to get him. You’re going to get him good. “Do you not want me to know? Is that what this is?”

He immediately falls to the floor, head resting on your knee as he looks up at you. You can’t even feel sorry for him, because your plan is working perfectly. His eyes are round and vulnerable, and then he clenches them shut in distress. You think he’s probably a second away from crying. “Baby, it’s not that. I wanted to protect you. It would be dangerous if the bad guys knew who you were, knew that you knew, and I know I shouldn’t have come to your room, that was wrong of me, and-”

You giggle. Jisung furrows his eyebrows, eyes opening. “I knew I was right.” He gasps, pointing at you again.

“Judas! You’re a judas!” He’s shocked, leaning back on his haunches and staring at you. “I can’t- I can’t believe you, that was so-”

“Sneaky? Good? Smart?” You list, leaning back on his twin bed. He stands up, hands on his hips. You’re ready for him to bitch you out, but you don’t care - you knew that you had to know, had to have it confirmed. He taps his foot, and then you see a smile break out on his lips.

“Okay, yeah, that was pretty good,” He hums, returning to the bed. You let him shut your own textbook and sprawl across you, head in your lap. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve told you.”

You sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “That’s okay, Ji. It’s fine. I’m just a little embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why?” Jisung asks, his eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You want to scoff. Embarrassed for two major reasons - one, because you’ve been gushing about how cool Spiderman is for weeks, maybe even months, and two because you told Spiderman last night that you liked Jisung. Spiderman and Jisung are the same person. Sure, it makes things easier. You no longer have a crush on two people, only one, but it doesn’t change the fact that Jisung knows and is yet to say anything.

“I’ve been talking to you about Spiderman for weeks,” You blush, pushing his hair off of his forehead. He whines, thrashing his feet and shaking his head like a dog to hide his forehead again. He’s so dramatic. You like him so bad. “And- and you- it was you, then. You came to my room last night.”

“Yeah, that was risky,” He responds, exasperated. “I just had to, baby. I don’t know, you always seemed so interested in Spiderman and not me. I needed to know if you saw me like you saw him.”

You pause your movements on his head, blinking at the wall in front of you. When you turn back to him, he’s blushing, teeth gnawing his bottom lip. His eyes are conveniently staring at the window, away from you.

“Jisung,” You start, hesitant. “What do you mean?”

He sits up sharply. “Wanna go on the roof?”

“T-The roof? Jisung, how are we gonna- oh. Oh.”

Jisung jumps up from the bed, toeing his sliders onto his feet and pushing the window open. It gives you deja vu - that same figure was pushing the window open just like this to place you safely outside in school yesterday, and then he was coming through your window to see you late at night. It’s hard to believe that they’re the same person, the man you admired so much and your best friend who’s standing by the window expectantly waiting for you to join him.

You hesitantly stand up, brushing off imaginary crumbs from your joggers and looking at Jisung. He smiles, a soft, reassuring smile, and then he’s scooping you up from the floor and wrapping your legs around his waist. It’s slender, the plush flesh of your thighs almost obscuring it, and you squeak in surprise at being in the air.

“I- Jisung?!”

“You have to hold on tight,” He says. His face is inches away from yours, plush lips looking more than appealing and his glasses making him look so endearing. “I need my hands for this, so hold onto my shoulders.”

You nod, face blushing crimson at the realisation of just how close you are. Would he have you like this if he fucked you? Legs around his waist, hands on his shoulders, his face so close to yours as he pants and whines and moans-

You squeak again when he slides out of the window, and then you see him in action. His hands stick to the outside of the apartment building, feet kicking up against the concrete wall. Your heart is racing so badly it feels as though it could burst out of your chest, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the height or because you’re tightly pressed against Jisung.

When he swings you both over the side ledge on the roof, you notice the sun’s set already. Time always goes by quickly with Jisung, but the stars are already out, and the air is crisp and biting against your limbs despite the layers. Once he’s safely stood on the roof, he places his hands underneath your thighs and detaches you from his firm body, placing you on your feet.

You’re disorientated, shocked at the sheer height of the building and at the way Jisung seems to be swinging you around like it’s nothing, but he’s simply staring at you. A wide smile stretches from ear to ear, and he blinks when you don’t say anything. “It’s cool, right?”

“Y-Yeah, super cool,” You admit, chest heaving. “Really high up, but cool. Jisung, why are we on the roof?”

He’s wrangling you, hands on your arms and pushing you to the floor. It feels firm, but with what you now know about him, you know he’s holding back. He plops down next to you, eyes wide and expectant.

“I wanted to do it properly,” He begins. He pauses for a moment, licks his lips, pushes his glasses up his nose, and then he’s speaking again. “I like you, so that’s why I asked. Is it romantic up here? It feels romantic, but I’m not too sure-“

He stands up and begins pacing around the roof before you realise he’s even moved. You raise an eyebrow. “Jisung?”

“I wanted to do this right, y’know?” He pauses, hands on his hips. He looks comical, trying to assert dominance over you like that in those Hello Kitty pyjama trousers. “I- I wanted to swing by and like, grab you, or something? But then you worked it out, and now I’m just standing here with you on a roof…”

He continues mumbling like a mad scientist, eyes focused on a spot next to your head. You stand up, making your way towards him, and he still refuses to look at you. He likes you back. He likes you back, and he’s still your best friend - he’s still Jisung, but he’s also Spiderman, and you’re okay with that. You don’t have to like two people. You only like one, and it’s your goofy best friend.

“Is this even romantic? You know, we could just forget about it and-“

You press your lips to his. He doesn’t make any form of surprised noise, only cupping your cheeks with his hands and pulling you close to him. His glasses bump against your face, his lips pouty against yours and plush and maybe a bit too wet for a first kiss, but you’d always figured he’d take it too far. That’s what you like about him. Jisung never does anything by halves.

It’s brief, too brief for your liking, but then he’s pulling away with a satisfied grin on his face. You blink. Wait.

“Wait, your stupid- your stupid spidey things. Did you know I was going to kiss you?” You pout, and he giggles. “No, seriously! Could you like- I don’t know, feel it coming?”

“Not until you were like, a few inches from my face,” Jisung admits, and his teeth gleam in the brilliance of the evening. “I had a feeling you might.”

You sigh. “So why didn’t you stop talking?”

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “I couldn’t stop once I started.”

The statement is so true to Jisung, so in character for your best friend that you can do nothing but accept it.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s easy to fall into a different routine with Jisung.

He never asked you to be his girlfriend. You’re pretty sure you’re fine with that, though - things have had a natural manner of progressing, and now your best friend slash boyfriend slash superhero turns up at your window every night after he’s been on his neighbourhood patrol. Sometimes he’s a little bruised, and sometimes he’s just looking for consolation kisses.

It’s a normal night for you when it happens. Jisung’s halfway out of your bedroom window on his way to perform perfect justice, pulling his mask down over his annoyingly beautiful face. You’re standing a few feet away grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll see you later, my baby,” You can see his grin through the mask. The eyes on his mask form beautiful crescent moons with his happiness. He falters, legs swinging on your windowsill. “Wait. I am coming back here, yeah?”

“Of course,” You giggle. He sends you two fingers in a mock salute, and you watch him begin his journey up the wall to your roof. A beat passes and you’re still standing there, smiling, hands on your hips, and then the masked head of your best friend pops back down into your window, upside down, tilting to the side in confusion. You blink, confused. “What is it, Sungie?”

“Well, where’s my goodbye kiss? Damn,” He huffs, and you roll your eyes playfully. You make your way to the window, sock-clad feet padding on your carpet, and you pull his mask down to his eyes with two fingers. It miraculously stays on his head, and his lips form a teasing grin.

Despite him being upside down, you place a chaste kiss to his lips, and you watch in amusement as he swings away afterwards. You can still hear him giggling with glee from a few buildings away.

It’s a few hours later when he comes back. You’re flicking through a book for English, scrawling notes and highlighting words on sticky notes. It’s started to rain, and the city lights only look brighter in the dusk with the pattering of water on your window. You left it open, of course, for your superhero, but the cold air bites at your arms even through the fluffy blanket you’ve got wrapped around yourself.

Just as you’re beginning to contemplate closing it, a louder, more prominent tap hits the glass. When you turn to the window, Jisung is slouched against your windowsill, chest heaving beneath red lycra and forehead pressed against the glass. He’s got his mask between his teeth, and his hair is dishevelled, floppy brown locks obscuring his eyes. You can still catch sight of the bruising on his cheekbones and you gasp, rushing towards the window.

You drop your blanket in shock, but you swing the window open, pulling Jisung inside with one hand. He stumbles through, disoriented and confused, and you lead him to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Got hurt,” He explains, huffing out a breath. The mask drops from his teeth unceremoniously, with a wet plop to your carpeted floor, but you don’t care. You rush to sit next to him, fingers gripping his chin to pull him to face you. His eyes are round, sincere, and he gives you a soft smile. “It’ll heal before long, baby, don’t panic.”

“I am panicking,” You say, resolute, because you really are. Bruising is scattered across his cheekbones, fading into green on the plush of his cheeks and his lip looks like it had been burst, but is already healing. “Will it- will it take long? Do you need me to get the first aid kit, or-“

“Baby,” He shakes his head, grabbing your hands. You watch with parted lips as he leans forward, both of you cross legged on the end of your bed. It reminds you of when Spiderman first visited you, when you weren’t quite sure of his identity. Jisung presses his forehead against yours, and you let him look into your eyes. It’s like he’s demanding everything that’s ever gone through your head to be vocalised. You’d tell him if he asked. “I’m really okay. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m fine. Most of it is on my ribs from falling, to be honest.”

“Your ribs?!” You shriek. “Show me. Let me see, I need to help you-“

You’re already trying to wrangle Jisung out of his suit, and he giggles, clearly thinking this is all just some game. He holds his arms up pliantly, though, and you don’t have the thought processing ability within you to realise that Jisung’s suit is an all-in-one and you’re currently stripping him down to his boxers.

The suit is wet too when you drop it to the floor, and before long you’re blinking at your best friend in his plain black boxers and he’s grinning at you as if this is any other day. There’s no bruising on his ribs. You’re staring at his abs, regardless, so you’re not sure you would’ve even noticed.

“You look fine.”

“I told you it heals quickly, baby,” He grins. You blink when he wriggles on your bed, laying on his back and stretching his arms above his head again, this time to get comfortable. His legs stretch out too, and you avoid looking anywhere below his waist.

His body is a spectacle. You can’t stop looking. Broad shoulders taper off into an extremely defined chest and a tight, thin waist adorned with prominent abdominal muscles, before reaching a v-line that leads into his boxers. You’re wide eyed, wanting nothing more than to reach out and run your fingers down his honey toned skin.

“Why-“ You cough, clearing your throat. Jisung raises an eyebrow. He’s grinning from ear to ear, teeth gleaming. “Why did you let me strip you if you’re literally fine?”

The bruising on his cheek is already fading. He shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge with the movement and you think you might choke on your own spit. “You seemed pretty determined, so I just allowed it. You wanted to see me naked, I assumed, so-“

“Jisung!” You wail, slapping his shoulder. He groans in pain, catching your hand, and he grits his teeth with a hiss.

“My shoulder! Fuck, that hurt, ouch, baby! What was that for?!”

You gasp. He clutches his shoulder, letting out little pants of hurt sounding noises. You let your head fall to his chest, engulfing him with a hug. “Jisung, I’m so sorry-“

“Hehe,” He giggles. When you look at him, he’s sticking his tongue out, completely fine. You groan, annoyed you fell for it, and then he’s grabbing your forearms and pulling you upwards on top of him.

Your breasts press against his chest like this, due to your lack of bra in your sleep shirt, and his eyes widen when he feels it. Instead of letting you go, his hands move to your back, encompassing you in his strong hold.

You gasp, wiggling in his grip, and he licks his lips. His eyes go to your lips, and then back up to your eyes, as if he’s hesitant.

“I-“ He begins, faltering. “Are you my girlfriend?”

You scoff out a laugh. “I don’t know, am I?”

“I hope so,” Jisung admits, his facial expression vulnerable. His eyes dart to something behind you, as if he’s not sure, almost shy. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him shy. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask, but I want you to be, if you want to be.”

“I want to be,” You nod. He nods in response, and you watch his eyes flicker to your lips again. It’s silent for a moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is more charged than usual. Before now, you’re used to chaste, fleeting kisses from your superhero, but now he lets his tongue tease against the seam of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, and his eyelashes brush against your skin where he does the same. You let your lips part, and Jisung’s quick to grip your back harder, tongue darting inside your mouth with impatience.

You’ve made out with someone before. You’d never had sex with someone before, but you had made out with someone. It was only once at a party when you were a little bit younger but it had felt like a good idea at the time. You’re sure Jisung’s lost his virginity though, but when he whimpers against your lips and his hips squirm a little you’re not too sure.

You pull away from the kiss, lips a little wet, and Jisung’s mouth goes to your neck. You allow him to suck a mark into the expanse of skin just underneath your jaw, his fingers grabbing impatiently at your back. “Sungie, are you a virgin?”

Jisung pulls away, licking his lips. You feel something hard pressing against your thigh where you lay on top of him. You’re thanking every entity ever that your parents are out for a work dinner. “Yeah, I am. I would have told you if I wasn’t,” He confirms, a little breathless. His hips wiggle again. “Is that- is that okay, baby?”

“Yeah, of course,” You smile, comforting. You peck his lips again and he grins back at you. “I am too.”

“I know,” He responds, quick as a flash. You blush. That’s embarrassing. “No, I just mean- you also would’ve told me, y’know?”

“That’s true,” You shrug. You’re feeling a little overconfident, and you move in his hold, having felt it gone a little lax with your kissing. You let your thighs spread over his hips, his hard shaft pressing against your core through your pyjama bottoms and his boxers. You still feel it, though, and it makes your pussy gush a little. “Is- is this okay?”

He’s blushing. His lips part, and he nods, perhaps too eagerly because he clutches his neck afterwards like he’s got whiplash. “Baby, you’re- I have a pretty girl in my lap. This is so okay. Like, so okay, I might have a heart attack and die, probably.”

You shift, and he winces. “Sorry,” You say. It’s a fake apology. You want to swallow his cock down your throat until he cries, and you don’t even know how to. You’d try your best though. “If I lost my virginity, I’d want it to be with you.”

“Damn,” Jisung whistles, eyebrows raised. “Let me hit?”

You giggle, tilting your head to the side. “I’ll let you hit right now, Jisung.”

Jisung shoots upwards into a seated position. His eyes are wide. “Right now?”

“Right now,” You confirm. You go from straddling his lap to laying on your back on your bed in a flash, and Jisung looms over you, all tight, toned muscles and broad shoulders.

“I’ll make it so good, baby, I promise,” He says, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s even messier this time, lips pressing against yours over and over and his tongue adding a collection of spit to the mix. You let your thighs fall apart, his hips quick to fill the space and press his cock against you. His hands go to your waist as he kisses you, sucking and biting on your lips until you’re whining with it, but he doesn’t let up. He’s desperate, messy, and it’s only making your pussy drool even more.

The rain hits the window still, cooling off a little but still providing a calming effect to your room when combined with the orange-pink of your lamp. He inches his palms up your shirt, the softness of his hands surprising you, and then he’s pulling away from your mouth to yank the fabric over your head.

You’re left in just your pyjama bottoms, lips kiss bitten and nipples pebbled against the cool air of your bedroom. You never had shut your window, after all.

“Oh,” Jisung says, exasperated. You finally open your eyes to see him staring at your tits, and you think he might be drooling. “Oh, yeah, my baby. They are so fucking good.”

You almost laugh, but you’re cut off by your own strangled moan when his pouty lips engulf your right nipple. He sucks on it, hard, and when your back arches he lets it slip out of his mouth with a wet popping noise. It’s only a brief moment of reprieve before he’s letting his teeth skim along the bud, and you keen, fingers moving upwards from his shoulders to grip onto the pillow behind your head.

“Oh, that’s so- Sungie, baby, that feels good,” You whine, and he hums against your breast. When he moves to the other one, he tweaks your wet nipple between two fingers. It’s experimental, but the whole thing is, and you buck your hips up impatiently.

His hands move to your ass, scooping underneath you and making you grind slightly against him. The movement makes him moan, your nipple leaving his mouth. A string of drool attaches to his lips and his tongue lolls out lazily, and before you can process it, he’s grinding his cock into your clothed centre.

“Oh- oh, fuck,” He whines, eyes clenching shut. You whimper in response, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Baby- baby, baby. Baby, I’ve thought about this so much, I- fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

His words are so crude that they make you keen, nodding enthusiastically. “I thought about it too. I- I touched myself thinking about it, Sungie, did you?”

He gasps sharply, and there’s a fumbling between your legs. He rocks backwards on his haunches, and you see him gripping his cock impatiently underneath his boxers, fingers wrapped tight around the base.

“I will literally cum if I imagine that,” He huffs, breathless. “But yes. I did, many times, and- and- baby, can I see your pussy?”

It’s so bold that you can’t say no. You never would have dreamed of saying no anyway, and you nod, wiggling your bottoms down your legs. You never wear a bra or panties underneath your pyjamas, and your pussy is revealed to him in all its drooly glory, folds sticking together with your arousal.

Jisung’s jaw goes slack. You watch him jerk his cock, eyes fixated on your wet hole, and you shift impatiently.

“I showed you mine, Sungie,” You huff. “Show me yours.”

He nods, eyes still glued to your pussy. Your clit is swollen with arousal, some wetness stuck onto it, and you reach down to trace your fingertips over it absentmindedly while he pushes his boxers down. His cock slaps up against the bottom of his tummy, cockhead leaking beneath his foreskin, precum slicking the smattering of hair at his base. His balls look heavy, shaft swollen and fat between lithe thighs, and you can’t help but go a little googly eyed at the thought of him stretching you out.

He grabs it, pumps his cock a few times while you rub your fingers over your clit. “Is- is it okay, baby?” He gasps, cock leaking steadily in his fist.

“You’re so sexy, Sungie, ‘s so big. I- oh,” You whine, spreading your arousal over your folds. You prop your feet up, letting your legs fall wide, and the movement must expose your soppy hole to Jisung because his eyes widen even further. “I want you inside of me so bad. I’ve wanted it for so long, I just- shit, Jisung, what are you-“

You’re cut off by him diving between your legs. His cock is forgotten, his hands looping around your ass again to spread you wide, and his tongue presses against your core. He moans at the taste, and you whimper out loud, head rolling against your pillow. It’s messy and you can tell he’s inexperienced, but when he sucks your clit between his lips you can’t find it in you to care.

“Oh, oh- baby, baby! You’re good at that, so good at that, baby,” You babble, trying your best not to grind up into his mouth. His mouth is just as wet as your pussy, his lips drooling all over you. You’re cut short when he flattens his tongue against your core, moaning out loud, and his hands move your ass just a bit. “I- you- Sungie-?”

“Grind on my face, baby, c’mon,” He murmurs, muffled by your folds, and you oblige. Your hand goes to his hair, yanking on the dark brown strands, and you hold him in place while you grind your pussy senseless on his tongue. Your boy is good with his mouth, you realise - he’s pliant, letting you make yourself cum on his tongue and lips, and after only a few grinds you’re sure you’re going to fall apart for him.

“Ah! Ah, oh, baby, your mouth is- Sungie, Sungie,” You whine, feet kicking on the bed. Your legs go flat, but as the pleasure builds up in your core, your thighs tighten around his ears. He likes this, moaning loud to the point the vibrations make you jolt. It’s all so wet, your pussy dripping with arousal and his saliva, dripping down to your asshole. It has you wondering if Jisung would eat your ass further down the line, and your eyes flicker to his - would he let you eat his? He probably would, with how submissive he’s being.

His hips buck downwards on the bed and he keens into your pussy, and you realise he’s humping your mattress. He’s so desperate for you that he just can’t help himself, and you moan, loud and unabashed. The sight has you hurtling towards your orgasm.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, baby,” You warn, and he finally lets up, pulling back to suck on your clit. His hand moves over to the top of your pussy, pulling your mound backwards, and the exposure of your clit directly to his lips is your downfall. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth, and you can hear yourself talking and moaning but you’re not sure what you’re saying, only able to feel your hole gushing into Jisung’s mouth over and over.

Jisung licks over your clit a few times comfortingly, and then he’s on top of you again, face looming over yours. His right hand holds him up steadily and the other stays downwards, hooked on your thigh to keep you open.

“You taste delicious, baby,” He grins, mouth wet. When he presses his lips to yours he’s desperate, tongue darting into your mouth to let you taste your own cum. You let your hands fall to his chest, fingernails digging into the muscles. The filthiness of it all has you wriggling around impatiently again, and Jisung’s cockhead slips against your clit, making you whine into his mouth. He pulls away, gasping for air with the sensation, and you kiss the beauty spot on his cheek for good measure. “Baby. M-my baby, shit, can- can I fuck you now? Have you got a condom, I- shit, I need to fuck you?”

He’s breathless, giggling at his own desperation, and you nod eagerly. You’re on the pill, and realistically you’d want nothing more than him to creampie you, but you have a shred of logic still left in your brain. “No condom. I- I don’t have any, can you pull out? I know it’s not-“

“Don’t care,” He huffs, legs moving to prop himself up more securely. His knees dig into your bed, and he pulls your thigh further apart, letting his eyes fall down to your pussy. His face is more than pornographic when he sees the visual of his cockhead sliding through your folds, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. He lets his eyes flutter shut, a small profanity leaving his mouth. “You’re sure I can fuck you raw? I- please, p-please, baby. I need to be inside.”

“Jisung,” You whine. He lets his tip bump against your clit again, and you grow too desperate, reaching down yourself to grab his cock. The feeling makes him whimper, his fingers ripping into the pillow beside your head with his superhuman strength, but you’re too out of it to care. You position his cock by your hole, soppy and wet with your own cum, and he can’t hold himself back - he pushes in, all of it at once, a long, anguished noise leaving his mouth. “Oh. Oh- Oh, Jisung, that’s-“

“Is it okay? Are you okay?” Jisung asks, breathless. “Does it hurt? I- baby, baby-“

He’s still completely stationary, but he can’t stop talking, chest heaving and flushed pink. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt. You’re wet enough that he glided in so easy, stretching your pussy in the most pleasurable, delicious way. You didn’t think it would ever feel this good, but you’re sure it’s because it’s Jisung.

“God, is it- does it feel good?” He questions you, and you nod eagerly, hands moving to rest on his biceps. He repositions you both so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, his arms holding himself up over you, and the movement has him sliding deeper, making you whimper. “Can I-“

“Fucking hell, Jisung, can you just move?” You huff, annoyed, and he giggles. He shakes his head fondly, and then he’s thrusting into you, slow but steady.

“Oh, that’s good,” He slurs, eyes rolling back into his head. “That pussy’s good. Jesus, you’re- you’re tight on my cock, baby, like a fuckin’ vice.”

“Your cock is so good,” You whine, trying to fuck yourself back on him. Your pussy is so wet that every thrust makes an audible noise, ringing throughout your room. If anyone walked past now they’d hear the debauchery, and you’re not sure you’d even care. “Fuck, Jisung- Jisung, you’re big. Please, please, more, I need more!”

“Okay, okay,” He moans, and then his hips speed up. His balls slap against your asshole with every thrust, his cock pistoning into you at a pace that has you wailing. The headboard slams against the wall. “Oh, fuckin’- baby, this puusssy.”

“It feels so good. Your cock is stretching me out so good, baby-“

“Fuck, wait,” He whines, pulling out sharply. When you look down between his legs his cock is painfully hard, and his pubic hair is drenched with you. The sight makes you even more eager to get him back inside of you, but Jisung grabs the base of his cock tightly, his chest heaving. “I- I’ll cum if you talk like that. Fuck, this is so embarrassing!”

“I want you to cum,” You insist, leaning up on your elbows. Your pussy is still leaking steadily onto your bedsheets, and you make grabby hands at your boy to try and get him back inside of you. “You made me cum so good in your mouth, Sungie, c’mon. Make yourself cum with my pussy.”

“Oh my God,” He moans, eyes half lidded, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re dirty. My fucking dream, holy shit.”

He leans over you once more, pushing his cock inside of you. It slides back in easily with another wet noise, and you moan, smiling with delight. “Mm, fuck this pussy, baby, c’mon.”

“I- fuck, okay,” He keens, nodding. His teeth bite into his lower lip almost painfully, and you kiss his neck while he starts to fuck into you again. With a quick reposition you let your thighs fall apart and further back, and his cock starts to hit your g-spot incessantly. He pulls away from you, head lolling into your neck. His breaths fan over your skin, hot and heavy. “You’re so wet, why are you- how are you so wet, baby? This pussy, fucking- I’m gonna cum. I’m so close, I’m so close, please-“

The shred of logic has left your brain. His cock feels so good, thick and pressing inside of you. You have to let him do it. “Baby. Baby, do y’wanna- I’m on the pill, baby,” You say, breathless. His pace stops, hips halting, and he makes a confused noise. “Cum inside. Creampie this hole, Sungie, I know you want to.”

“Oh my fucking- baby? My baby, can I?” He wails, head pulling up to look at you. You catch sight of tears brewing in his eyes, glassy and unshed. “Baby, please, I’m gonna cum, please, where-? Baby?”

“Inside of me, Sungie,” You wrap your legs around him, pulling him inside of you, deep. You know he could get out of it if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, hips starting to pick up inside of you again. It’s fast, desperate and he keens, nodding. “You gonna fill me up, yeah?”

“Yeah. Y-yeah, yes, oh- I’m gonna fill you up,” Jisung’s words are slurred, quiet, and you let him fuck into you over and over. With a sharp noise, his hips slow once more, and you feel a rush of additional wetness inside of you. It’s warm, and you run your fingers through his hair while he fucks his cum inside of you. “Fuck. Baby, you’re so good to me, so good. Lettin’ me breed your cunt, and- and- oh. I’m still-“

He’s still cumming. It floods out of his cock and into your pussy steadily, and you giggle, feeling sated. Your delighted state of mind only lasts a second, because he pulls out sharply and wiggles down on the bed, attaching his mouth to your cunt. He’s eating his own cum out of you.

“Oh! Oh, Jisung, you’re- you’re dirty, Sungie, ah-“ You whine, fingers moving to his hair again. He licks you over and over until you’re wailing with it, your own tears brimming in your eyes from the overstimulation. Your hole feels stretched, a feeling you’re sure you could get used to, and you shake through a second orgasm.

Jisung’s quick to lean over you again, and then his thumb moves to your chin. He opens your mouth firmly, spitting your combined release into your mouth, and you moan, letting him press his tongue between your lips afterwards.

It’s messy and you let him kiss you for a bit, slow, languid, passionate kisses that have your core almost throbbing for more, if you weren’t so satisfied. Jisung’s soft cock presses against your tummy, wet with your combined arousal, and then he flops down next to you with a huff.

“God, I could go again,” He admits, hand running through his sweat mussed hair. When you turn to him, he’s grinning from ear to ear, and you giggle. He looks at you with a satisfied expression. “You’re the best. That was literally like, the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Even more than when I win some fight against an alien, or something.”

“Alien?” You ask, and then you remember. “Oh, yeah. Kinda forgot about that.”

“You forgot about me saving your life?!” He shrieks, thrashing around on the bed in a tantrum. “Seriously, if I wasn’t in love with you I would- ah. Oh.”

You blanch, blinking at him. It’s easy to ignore that you’re both naked when he’s just dropped a bombshell on you like that, and you let out a giggle. “That was sweet. I’m in love with you too, for the record.”

You’re attacked in a flurry of kisses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re sure Han Jisung intrigues you just as much as his superhero alterego does, so it’s easy to accept.

3K notes · View notes

heesdreamer · 9 months

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Forgotten Consequences

PAIRING ➩ jake x reader (bsfs little brother au)

SUMMARY ➩ Your bestfriends little brother comes back from Australia and catches your attention despite knowing the consequences

WARNINGS ➩ ages aren’t specified but reader is a few years older than Jake and considers him “barely an adult”, RLLY ROUGH SM*T, like no joke it’s rough be warned, consent is there even though reader says no (she def wants it!), d*ddy is used sorry lol… this is straight up p*rn so there’s your warning. Jake is rough and borders obsessive

WC ➩ 5.7k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Not exactly pleased my return to the writing world is basically PWP lol but here it is… there’s a larger story here I’m considering writing so lmk if you’re interested. Sorry to keep you guys missing me, take this as an apology piece

“Your brother is a lot taller than I remember him being Chaeyoung.”

You briefly glanced over to the side once you heard Lily’s voice start to whisper, seeing her leaning into the other girls side as she tried to be as discreet as possible.

Both of them were staring out at something in the yard and you followed their gaze until you landed on Jake standing in the corner, picking up something off of the snack table and looking as bored as you felt at this ridiculous party.

“If you hook up with my little brother I’ll actually kill you.” Chaeyoung’s voice was flat and deadly serious but her face didn’t show any actual signs of caring about the conversation, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink before looking away and letting Lily lay on her shoulder.

Your eyebrow raised slightly at the interaction before your gaze was floating back over to the boy instinctively.

He hadn’t been home from the dance school in Australia long and this was only your second time seeing him since. You’d grown up together but you’d never paid him much mind outside of when Chaeyoung gave him funny makeovers and made him dance to girl group songs with you and your friends. Other than that he wasn’t necessarily somebody on your radar.

It was impossible to not notice the difference in him now.

Mainly the fact he was almost double the size he had been when he left, clearly hitting puberty now and apparently the gym considering how large his shoulders looked underneath the washed out black hoodie he was wearing.

He’d obviously gotten a new sense of style in his time away too and it was one that you were almost annoyingly attracted to. His hair was longer and stuck in his face most the time, earbuds peaking out from behind the dark strands whenever he pushed it back with his large hand and you could’ve sworn you’d posted the shoes he was currently wearing on your Instagram story a few months ago.

You watched him as he started to make his way back inside, completely ignoring the party going on around him and not even sparing a glance at the people in his backyard and living room.

When he was younger, he always wanted to be involved, especially when it had to do with Chaeyoung and your friends. You remember seeing her send him back up to his room dozens of times when he tried to hang out with you guys, always greeting you and the others enthusiastically.

A frown was forming on your face at his indifferent attitude before you were glancing back at your friends, glad to see they were lost in their own conversation and not noticing the way your eyes had been locked on your bestfriends little brother for the better part of the last ten minutes.

They were so distracted that they also didn’t notice the way you were scooting off of the outdoor bench, adjusting your skirt and balancing yourself slightly before you were heading inside and following the path you’d seen the younger boy taking. You were a bit thrown off when you entered the house again, the atmosphere a lot more intense and dizzying than the outside partygoers had been.

But you knew Jake wouldn’t have stuck around this type of environment long so you pushed your way through the crowd and continued on your way upstairs to where you knew he’d be, raising your fist and knocking on his door before you thought twice about it.

You froze up slightly at the speed in which he swung open his bedroom door, a heavy glare set on his face and you could hear music coming from deeper in the room, having seemingly abandoned his headphones. His eyes widened for just a second when he realized it was you in the hallway before he was forcing on an expression of indifference.

“Y/N? Whats up?” He was asking but his tone was lazy like he didn’t care, luckily you knew better and could clearly read the curiosity in his eyes.

You ignored his question and pushed into the room, taking a deep breath once inside before turning towards him with a raised eyebrow. He was sighing and closing the door behind you, leaning against it for a second once he realized what your expression was directed towards.

“You smoke?” You were finally speaking and he tensed at the sound of your voice, looking way more intimidating with the way he was lazily leaned against his door and accidentally trapping you inside the room. You took a seat on his bed and watched him curiously, waiting for an answer.

You didn’t necessarily need one considering you were now noticing how lazy his eyes were, gaze low and hazy as he stared at you sitting on his bed and the corner of his lips turned up into a half smirk at your stern voice and scolding demeanor.

“You gonna tell on me Y/N?” His tone was teasing now and you kept watching him as he pushed off the door, crossing the room until he was flopping back into his bed.

Luckily he kept some distance between the two of you, sitting up so his back was propped up on his headboard and his knee was pointed towards the ceiling. You were still sitting on the edge of his bed but you turned your body so you could face him better, adjusting your skirt with the movement. You took one final glance towards the door, eyes falling down to the turned lock on the knob.

“I’m sure I could be convinced to not tell.” You were responding to him slowly, keeping your voice light so he knew you weren’t serious. His eyes darkened a touch but you continued on with your light teasing. “Maybe if you were open to sharing.”

You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up in Jake Sim’s bedroom smoking weed with him, sitting fully on his bed now with your legs crossed underneath you and grazing fingers every time he passed the bowl over in your direction.

You kept picturing Chaeyoung walking into the room, seeing the way you were looking at him every time he was breathing smoke outwards into the air. You wondered if she’d care, wondered if she’d realize where your mind had gone and then you’d shift on the bed and feel the tension in the room and know there was no way she wouldn’t suffocate in it.

He was watching you now in a way that you knew was past the line of friendly, miles past the line of being your bestfriends younger brother, and for the first time since entering his room you got nervous. So nervous that you inhaled wrong and the smoke traveled to a tighter part of your chest, sending you lurching forward in a rough cough as you patted your torso a couple times to try and clear your airways.

Jake was chuckling at your amateurish smoking skills and you sent him a glare as another cough ripped through you, moving your hand to send a soft punch towards his knee for his teasing.

“Wanna know a better way to get the smoke down?” His voice was low, lower than it already was and you remember being frozen the first time you heard him speak when he originally got back, deep and silky as he muttered a halfhearted greeting in your direction.

You gave him a curious look even though you already had an idea of where this was heading, wondering how far he was planning to take this. You only responded with a soft nod now that your coughs had died down and left your throat with a burning sensation, worsening when a gasp ripped through you at the feeling of him wrapping his hands underneath your knees and tugging you closer on the bed.

He moved you completely effortlessly and your eyes were wide and panicked, still sitting with your legs crossed but now you were directly in front of him and your knees were bumping into one of his, his other leg stretch out along your side and effectively forming a cage around you.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Your warning was coming out far less stern than you’d hoped it would, voice weak and almost teasing again despite how serious you were.

His eyebrow cocked at this and you immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say considering the challenging glint forming in his eye now. He was swaying forward so his face was close to yours, way too close considering you felt his nose graze you for just a second before he was pulling back so he could stare down at your tense features.

“Keep your mouth open.” He was speaking suddenly and you could feel his breath on your lips, his tone light but commanding enough that for some reason you were immediately nodding your head and parting your lips for him.

He wasn’t wasting any time, sitting up enough so he could light the bowl once more and inhale it deep, holding it there in his chest easily for a few seconds before he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t a kiss but it was enough for your eyes to flutter closed, leaning forward to press tighter against him but still not enough to feel his mouth completely on yours.

It was completely sensual, the way he was breathing out the smoke into your mouth from his own, almost suffocating as you inhaled a shaky breath softly and swayed further against him to try to avoid letting it escape.

“Breathe it in.” He was directing you again now that the smoke was out of his mouth and inside yours, not bothering to lean back and give you space as he started to speak and you could feel his lip brushing against yours for just a second. “C‘mon hold it for me. You can take it deeper than that.”

Your eyes were widening in surprise at his suggestive words, letting the smoke out before you were planning to and sitting up straight to try and put some distance between the two of you. He didn’t seem bothered at all by your reaction and for a second you wondered if you had just misheard him, let your own guilty thoughts and insecurities take his words to mean something besides smoking.

It didn’t help that your stomach was flipping with want now, face reddening and getting warmer as you replayed what he had said in your mind.

“Do it again.” You were requesting it in a whisper and you weren’t exactly sure what you were asking for, judging yourself for secretly hoping he’d repeat his innuendo laced words so you could hear it in his voice again. Instead he was grabbing the bowl and placing it between the two of you, lighting it again and inhaling.

You didn’t have too much time to be disappointed considering he was immediately lowering it and connecting your lips again, not even giving you time to open your mouth to collect the smoke.

He seemed to take matters into his own hands and you felt his tongue pressing against your sealed lips, prying them open so he could tilt his head and funnel the smoke into your throat. For a second you were chasing after his tongue with your own, nearly kissing him fully in a deeper lust fueled high, but he was cupping your jaw briefly and closing your mouth so you were forced to breathe in the smoke.

It was settling deep in your chest and this time you held it for him, looking up at him slightly through your eyelashes with watery eyes and he had a more satisfied expression on his face now that you were listening to him.

“Good girl.” He was humming out the word casually but your mouth parted in surprise, legs instinctively clenching together as you let the smoke filter back out and hit his face instead. The smirk on his face told you that he had definitely noticed your reaction and you were starting to lose all feelings of guilt and hesitation, being replaced with something much more terrible.

Something so intense that you couldn’t stop yourself from rocking forward and pressing your lips against his fully.

He thankfully was immediately reciprocating and you tried not to think about where he learned to kiss this intensely, hands coming up to cup your face and keep you locked against him as you moved together. You’d rocked forward so far that you nearly knocked him over back against the bed, leaning over his lap now as you desperately kissed him deeper and deeper.

It took for his hand sliding down your back, attempting to pull you fully onto his awaiting lap, for you to snap out of it and sit up straight with a small gasp.

Your hand was reaching up to touch your lips and you tried to ignore the fact they were wet from his mouth, looking at him and scanning from his confused eyes down to his own swollen lips that most likely mirrored the state of your own. Your body was lit up with need and it didn’t help that he was still touching you, hand resting on your lower back like he was waiting for you to kiss him again.

“We can’t do this.” You were telling him sternly in a panicked voice, shaking your head desperately to try and make sure he understood and that your point was getting across to him.

His hand was sliding down lower and roughly squeezing, resting on the curve of your ass and sending your hips forward and more onto his. A soft gasp was slipping from your mouth, followed by a breathy whine at the feeling of him hardening and pressing against your front, even more unbearable considering he wasn’t moving his hand and was instead softly groping your behind and rocking you against him.

“But we’re going to.” He was responding to your rejection in a casual tone, sounding more confident than he was pushy and you let out another soft whine as you gave him a bewildered look. “You followed me up here, you came into my room in this tiny little skirt and climbed into my bed because you wanted me to fuck you.”

You were instinctively shaking your head in panicked denial but your hands were going to his shoulders, pulling yourself forward onto his lap fully and mewling softly at the feeling of him completely pressing against you.

He didn’t say anything else as you started to desperately move against him, your head falling forward and landing in the crook of his neck as you lifted yourself up and down slowly so you could feel him under you at every possible angle. His large hands were holding you roughly and lifting you every time you struggled, pushing your skirt up further on your hips so he could feel your bare skin and lace panties.

“Fuck fuck.” You were panting out into his neck and arching your back into him, a shiver rolling down your spine when he was harshly tugging at your underwear so it was pressed painfully against your sensitive clit.

“God, do you always get this wet?” He was finally started to sound affected and you let out an embarrassed sob at his words, hand sliding up the back of his neck until it was tangled in his long hair. You imagined you were already a mess considering how desperate you were feeling, an overwhelming heat mixing with your high and stopping you from thinking about anything other than Jake.

“Let me fuck you baby, let daddy fix this.” He was talking so sweetly in your ear in his low voice.

You were shaking your head again but you already knew your resolve was falling apart, feeling nearly inhuman with how much you longed to be full of something, especially if it was him. You were aching in your panties and the forbidden image of your best friends little brother stuffing you and making the ache go away was nearly making you drool.

“How old are you Jae?” You were gasping out and lifting your head out of his neck to look at his face clearly, fearing his response and knowing you had a right to the fear considering for the first time his eyes flashed with guilt and worry. You were quickly doing the math in your head and gasping again, sitting up even more and stopping your rocking against him. “Oh my god you’re barely legal.”

He suddenly looked really annoyed and you felt bad for getting this far with him, knowing you had no choice but to stop what you were doing and reject the boy before anything more happened.

Messing around with your best friends brother was one thing but doing it while he was just barely an official adult was too much for your conscience, even if you weren’t that much older than him.

He seemed to have a totally different idea than you considering he was scoffing in annoyance before he was pausing and then flipping you completely over, ripping a shriek from you as your back unexpectedly hit the bed and he was left hovering over you. You froze up in shock as he impatiently undid the buttons on your skirt that was still pushed up on your waist, tugging it down and tossing it somewhere across the room.

“Don’t act like you care about how old I am.” He was barely looking at you as he spoke with anger lacing his voice, looking at your nearly bare bottom half for a few seconds before he was glancing up at you to check for your reaction. “Let me eat your pussy.”

You were letting out a loud laugh of disbelief, lacking any humor as you clamped your thighs shut and shook your head. “I mean it Jake, we can’t do this. It’s wrong.”

His large hands were squeezing your ankles for a second before sliding up your legs softly, your breath getting shakier as he reached your knees and slowly separated your legs. You both could tell you weren’t actually showing any attempt to stop him, not even putting up a fight as he lowered his face closer to your core and you could feel his breath over the wet spot covering your panties.

“It’s wrong that you want my tongue so bad your thighs are soaked.” He was talking in between the kisses he was laying on your skin, getting closer and closer to the thin fabric separating you and the point of no return. “Would be wrong to let you leave my room without my cum in your stomach.”

“Please, you need to stop.” You were breathing it out in a moan once he finally was placing a kiss over your covered core, softly running his tongue along your wetness and humming softly. The vibrations went straight to your clit and your hips rolled off the bed, pushing his face straight against you. “Oh fuck.”

He let out something that sounded almost like a growl before he was pushing your panties to the side and diving into your wet folds, wasting no time in sticking his tongue as deep as he possibly could get it and ignoring the way you nearly screamed and tried to close your legs around his head. He used his free hand to aggressively slam your knee back against the bed, opening you up completely for him and practically making out with your cunt.

It was completely lewd and disgusting, the wet noises filling the room as he ate you out with a level of expertise that almost made your stomach turn with curiosity if it wasn’t for how good he was making you feel.

Your hand was going to his hair to pull him out of your core but plans changed when he was sucking your clit into his mouth softly, instead keeping him locked in place with his long strands between your fingers. He abandoned your sensitive bud to go back to trying to stick his tongue as deep inside you as he could, turning his head so he was pushing into your tight hole and he moaned against you, the vibration nearly pulling another scream from you.

“Please Jake, oh my god please.” You almost thought you were begging for him to stop but you both knew you weren’t, lifting your hips up every time he tried to take a breath in an attempt to keep him buried in your cunt as long as possible.

“Wanna cum on my tongue or my cock baby?” He was lifting his head up to question you and you were thrown off by how easily it rolled off his tongue, how confident he seemed to be in being able to fuck you properly and make you cum with no question. You rarely came from hookups and definitely left unsatisfied more often than not but something about the glare in his eyes made you believe him.

You were apparently taking too long to answer considering he was climbing back on top of you and adjusting you slightly, moving your body like it weighed nothing.

“Don’t know how long I’ve wanted you like this Y/N. Going to show you what a real man feels like inside this slutty little hole.” He was reaching down and rubbing his fingers against you for emphasis, smirking when you let out a shaky breath and your stomach clenched. “Beg for daddy to fuck you baby, let everyone hear how much you want me.”

You were shaking your head and letting out an actual sob now, tears heavy as they rolled down your face and landed on the bed underneath you. He looked completely unaffected by your emotional reaction to the humiliation and pure want you felt for him.

It didn’t matter what he said now and it didn’t matter even if his sister walked into the room and saw him on top of you like this, you’d realized from the second you entered the room that you’d let him do anything to you that he wanted and that fact drove you absolutely insane with guilt and embarrassment. He seemed to know it as much as you did considering he was silent and patient as he waited for you to get ahold of yourself, knowing you’d end up begging for him regardless.

“Please Jake I need you so bad, need you to fuck me baby please.” You were pleading with him through a sob, grabbing onto his shoulders and trying to lift your hips to meet his and show him how desperate you were.

His eyes darkened the more you spoke and for the first time since entering his room you felt genuinely anxious, letting out a cry as he swiftly moved his hand up so it was pressing on your throat and restricting your breathing. Your eyes widened at his sudden aggression even though you were beginning to understand your mistake.

“Say it again and say it right or I’ll throw you out of my room with nothing but your dripping cunt.” He was leaning down to spit the words into your ear and you let out an embarrassing whine, another rush of heat running through you. “You like that huh… like when I get rough with you?”

You were nodding the best you could with his hand around your throat, the sting of the pressure making more wetness rush out of you as complete desperation took over your mind and left you feeling dizzy and out of it. Out of it enough that your tongue was hanging out of your mouth before you realized it, mouth opening as you stared up at him with watering eyes and heavy eyelashes.

He let off some of the tension around your throat just enough for you to be able to speak in a weak voice.

“Please daddy please give me your spit, I’ll be a good girl I promise.” You were practically sobbing as you begged him and his eyes were basically darkened to pitch black at this point, staring down at you with a hunger you’d never experienced from someone before. “Can do whatever you want to me, I’ll take it.”

Jake aggressively gripped your jaw and tugged your head closer towards his, waiting until you were eagerly sticking your tongue back out for him so he could spit roughly into your mouth. Before you got a chance to swallow it he was chasing after his spit with his own tongue, licking against yours until he was practically in your throat. You hummed softly and bobbed your head so he was even deeper, wanting him inside you in every way humanly possible.

“God you’ve gotta let me fuck you now or I’m going to hurt you.” He was pulling back to speak through gritted teeth, nearly looking pained as he was roughly sitting you up and tugging off the sweater you’d been wearing, leaving you completely bare outside of your panties that were beyond stretched from the way he was holding them.

“Hurt me.” You were begging him for it before you even processed that you wanted it, the imagine of him holding you down and shoving himself so deep inside you that you couldn’t handle the stretch making your stomach tighten with want. “Please Jake hurt me.”

“Don’t even know what you’re fucking begging for, you’re such a slut you don’t even care how I fuck you.” He sounded so angry but you knew he was just as affected as you, tugging you up and back into his lap so you were straddling him again. He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth for just a second before he was letting it go to speak again. “Wanna drag you down to that packed living room and take you in front for everyone there, let everyone watch me stuff you so deep your stomachs bulging.”

You were dizzy now, almost worried you were going to pass out from how overwhelmed you were and he’d barely even touched you so far.

You were desperately rolling your hips into his again and he was surprisingly letting you, guiding you as you bounced in his lap and practically rode him despite the fact he was still fully clothed. The image of you, bouncing on his hard on while practically naked and dripping down your thighs compared to him being fully dressed and composed made you feel even dizzier and you found yourself longing for what he was describing.

“Gonna make me feel so full daddy please, I’m sorry.” You could feel his hardness pressing against you every time you bounced and you were so turned on you couldn’t even find the time to be embarrassed you were probably soaking the fabric of his pants, the time to be humiliated you were calling a boy younger than you daddy.

“Should be fucking sorry.” He was growling out the words again and flipping you over easily so your stomach was on the bed instead, lifting you up by your hips so your ass was perfectly presented for him.

He didn’t hesitate before he was sending a sharp smack to your bare skin, immediately ripping a pained yelp from you that faded off into a desperate whine. You were adjusting yourself so you were pushing your ass towards him more and silently communicating you wanted him to hit you again, sobbing into his bed and pressing your face into the blanket to try to muffle the sounds of your cries.

Thankfully, he was understanding and roughly hitting you again. You knew he wasn’t using his full strength considering how strong he was but he definitely wasn’t going easy on you and you could feel yourself leaking even more at the pain.

“Tell me you’re sorry for never looking my way when I was a kid.” His words were barely being processed by you since you were so dizzy but you cried harder at the sound of his deep voice commanding you. “Sorry for being such a fucking slut but never giving me the chance to fill this pussy up.”

“Only want you to fill me please.” You were being immeasurably too loud but you didn’t even slightly care, completely serious in your desires for him to be inside you no matter who was watching. “M so sorry Jae please, please.”

You could hear the sound of his belt coming undone behind you and you nearly cried with relief, adjusting even more so you were completely presenting your ass and core to him. You wanted him to see how much you belonged to him so he’d have no choice but to fuck you.

He must’ve finished undressing his lower half because you could feel him pressing against you and your back arched at the realization his skin was pressing against yours, a loud whine sounding through the room when you felt his bare cock rubbing against your folds and thighs experimentally. You pushed against him harder and he reached up to squeeze the fat around your hips roughly in annoyance, a silent warning as he groaned softly.

“Gonna stuff you now and you’re going to lay here and take it.” He was grunting as he spoke and you sucked in a sharp breath when the head of his cock caught on your hole, pushing in just enough for you to realize he was a lot thicker than you’d prepared for. “Fuck you’re so tight, I’m going to end up in your stomach.”

You arched at his words and whined into his blankets, pushing your hips back against his so he was going deeper inside you. The stretch was knocking the air out of your chest but you nearly cried with how full he was going to make you feel.

“Please daddy please, I’ll be such a good girl for you I promise.” You were pathetically pleading with him and you knew for a fact that if anybody had drunkenly wondered upstairs they could definitely hear you, but you didn’t care about anything other than him in this moment and he was driving you crazy with how slow he was pushing into you.

He was finally losing his control and fucking himself deep inside of you in one go, bottoming out as you both took deep breaths and tried not to lose it before you’d even started.

The sound of him groaning above you was making you even more needy and you were overwhelmed with how much you wanted to keep hearing him make sounds like that, instinctively clenching around his length and feeling the way he was throbbing deep inside you.

You were basically sobbing with pleasure just from his first stroke into you when he pulled out completely, your body reacting intensely to the emptiness as you immediately looked over your shoulder and prepared to beg for him to fuck you again, stopping mid sentence when he was turning you back over on your back so you were able to see him again.

He was slamming himself back into you before you even adjusted to the position and he felt ten times deeper now, a pained grunt falling from your lips as he started to finally actually fuck you.

“Fuck you’re so fucking tight Y/N. I thought you were a whore but you feel brand new for me baby.” His facial expression as he spoke through gritted teeth and continued to thrust into you made you dizzy and you desperately reached out to hold his arms to try and ground yourself.

“Just for y-you Jake, only wanna be this full with you.” You were practically delirious as you cried and spoke to him but your words seemed to turn him on more considering he was slamming into you harder, clearly enjoying the level of ownership you were voicing towards him.

You didn’t want to internalize any of the things he said about you not paying attention to him before, knowing if you stopped and considered what he was implying you’d not be able to go through with this.

He was skilled at distracting you considering he was reaching forward to aggressively grab at your wrist, placing your hand against your stomach and pressing down so harshly you grunted in upset as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The lack of understanding didn’t last long considering it took only two more rolls of his hips inside you for you to feel what he was intending, your stomach bulging slightly from his size forcing itself deeper.

“Feel that?” He was rasping and you looked up to meet his gaze for the first time since he entered you, taken back by how dark and deadly his eyes were. “You’re mine now.”

You were nodding quickly in confirmation, not because you agreed with what he was saying necessarily but because of the wave of fear you felt seeing how serious and cold his expression was.

He had managed to already get you shockingly close between the foreplay and rough manhandling and it wasn’t long before you were feeling the familiar tightness in your stomach, only worsening when he was leaning down and catching your mouth in the sloppiest kiss of the night. It was bordering painful and filthy, exactly what you needed to distract you from how wrong this was and exactly what you needed to have you finishing around his length with a sharp inhale into his mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him kissing you even after you’d came, letting him know it was okay to keep fucking himself deeper inside you.

It was just enough to help you forget everything outside of the feeling of him on top of you and you felt drunk with how much you wanted to stay in this moment. You were terrified by how much he seemed worth the consequences when you had him like this, how much you wanted him even when the door was swinging open and a loud shriek was coming from the hallway.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #jake fanfic #jake fanfiction #jake au #jake enhypen #jake smut #jake sim #sim jake #enhypen jake #jake x reader #enhypen au #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fic

3K notes · View notes

harstyle · 2 months

Text

the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” she was snapped back to her current state following the short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He didn’t let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this behavior worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could often tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his arms just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observing her because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you do anything.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles series

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etheries1015 · 2 months

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Fem!MC X platonic Twst - missing the "girly" things.

General warnings: Fem reader, very Self-indulgent. If you don't relate, please keep scrolling along <3 not very proofread. No pronouns are used, but the concept of "girliness" and "girlhood" is very strong.

The boys have noticed their prefect act a bit different lately...a cloud of loneliness hovered over your head. As the only girl of Night Raven College, it was incredibly easy to feel left out and miss the things you were once interested in back in your world. You held a strong façade of prestige and uncaringness, but what happens when that mask begins to crack? How will the boys of NRC put your woes at rest? ...with a wonderful slumber party, of course!

First coming to Twisted Wonderland, not many could tell you were well-versed (Or at the very least, incredibly interested) in clothing, face Care, and jewelry. Although your personality screamed more or less "Gremlin" at times, and were a "well-known and respected honor student" all the same- you had a rather "girly" side to yourself.

However, you had limited options on having a non-existent budget, but a few of the students took notice of the longing in your eyes whenever you passed by something you desired to have back in your life. The cute earrings, the pretty dresses and skirts, the headbands...a mix of classy and modern, things of that nature.

The first time you were able to get your hands on a half way decent outfit that suited your tastes and you wore it out, others stared in shock. You were still the cheery and "weird" gremlin prefect that had crude humor and silly dance moves, yet something about seeing you in such...frills and 'flamboyance' was not what they were expecting. It suited you, though.

You soon found yourself being handed such outfits. Vil had taken it upon himself to gift you expensive brand outfits that he saw your eye when walking around town, Malleus gifting you a few outfits from Briar Valley that he felt would suit your tastes, Kalim gifting you the cutest earrings he had ever seen (little fruit charms, bows, all sorts of colors and unique charms). Even Riddle introduced you to tea cups that fit your aesthetic to decorate your kitchen with!

Though, the more they saw this side of you, an influx of confessions also came in toe. You were revered as the only female in school (who also managed to stay at the top of the score board, despite your magicless disposition). This came with the struggle of being pursued, more so after they could see just how cute you could dress yourself up.

Despite all these new changes, you felt a tinge of... sadness. You were happy that they were all willing to accept you with open arms and indulge in your desires such as gifting you the cutest of plushies, clothes, jewelry, decor... that didn't stop you from missing fun slumber parties, girl talk with friends, giggling about your love lives, sharing clothes and doing each others makeup and painting nails. You confided all of this to the number one group you could have possibly spoke to about these issues of yours.

the pop music club.

A knock came upon the door at odd hours of the night, upon opening it in your nightgown, you revealed quite a sight. Cater, Kalim, and Lilia along with a few other choice students were all in gorgeous nightgowns, their hair done up, holding blankets and pillows with hands full of bags of what you could tell were snacks, makeup, nail polish, and other slumber party commodities. With a bright smile on your face and a giddy giggle, you let them in gushing about their cute appearances. You all lay out the blankets and pillows in front of the TV in the lounge (kindly gifted to you by Idia) and pulled out the snacks and lay them out for everyone to grab at in their leisure.

"We aren't girls," Lilia pointed out, "But at the very least we can enjoy the things you mentioned before! Oh how I love a good love story, shall we share our love lives?"

"We can do that while we put on these face masks! Look, this one is a panda!" Kalim exclaimed, holding up a large bag of face masks and other types of...random things he thought would suit the party. (He pulled out one of those toe dividers for nail polish, he had no clue what it was but Jamil told him he would need it for later.)

"Oh, I brought you this super cute and frilly nightgown (y/n), Trey said one of his sisters didn't wear it anymore and he thought it would look good on you. Go! Try it on, Then we can take a BUNCH of magicam photos. Don't we look like pretty dolls?!" Cater gushed, handing you the night gown. You took it with grace and skipped away to your room, giddy and unable to hold back your excitement.

It wasn't long for more guests to arrive in frilly pajamas and cutesy hair accessories. A string of familiar faces entered, and you soon found yourself braiding the hair of Leona, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Silver...You were shocked to see even Epel made an appearance simply to make you happy.

"I learned how to braid a little bit," Silver smiled gently at you, "And a few other hairstyles. I would be happy to try them on you," He said. You looked at Silvers' perfectly French braided hair and makeup that made him look nothing less than an angel, you nodding in immediate trust. You soon had hair that was done so elegantly, adorned with flowers and gems.

"Let's be clear, I ain't a girl!...but.." Epel blushed, "I-if it'll make you happy...i'll let ya braid my hair. Just this once!"

Floyd and Jade even came along with their faces caked with makeup and the most flamboyant nightgowns you have ever seen, laughing away at their silliness.

"Look Floyd," Jade pointed at your makeup which was lightly placed on by his hand, "I told you these colors perfectly suits (y/n)'s skin." Floyd boo'd and insisted to take off the colors Jade had chosen, holding out the most...vibrant and interesting color palate to exist. You only laughed and backed away, shaking your head and begging floyd to leave your precious face alone.

They truly indulged in everything you had missed out on, even if they weren't your "girlfriends," they were so adamantly ready to try, simply to see you smile once more.

It was a night of snacks, makeup, nail painting, chick flicks, karaoke, gossiping, and frilly fun. You truly underestimated just how much the boys took a liking to you and wished to ease your worries and make you feel a little more at home, and you couldn't have asked for better friends than them.

#twst #twst headcannons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 4 months

Text

I know what they call you.

🍯 honey flavour: You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.

🐝 the bees: Eddie x shy!Reader, best friends Steve + Robin

wc: 11k

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous.

Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

___

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after.

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music.

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm.

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways.

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask.

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him.

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return.

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me.

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm.

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot.

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house.

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids.

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of.

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again.

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty.

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke.

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA��s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code.

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter.

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive.

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily.

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending. “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out.

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them.

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in.

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it.

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom.

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth.

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits.

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring.

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence.

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music.

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around.

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows.

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic.

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms.

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate.

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart.

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down.

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement.

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?”

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard.

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs.

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands.

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel.

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves.

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own.

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours.

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch.

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights.

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown.

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you.

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him.

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam.

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie.

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders.

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh.

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,”

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips.

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x shy! reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #steve harrington #mdni

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thecomfortgoth · 7 months

Text

Peeping Tom Part 1

18+ MDNI (just don't, ok?)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader x Perv!Steve Harrington

Summary: You're behind the school with your boyfriend Eddie making out, things get a little hot and heavy.. and then you see that someone is watching you..

WC: 6k

CW: unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, masturbation, slight persuasion, use of degrading pet names, use of praisey pet names, posessiveness, voyeurism/exhibitionism (one party doesn't know it's happening, sorry), Steve being a huge secret pervert, Eddie being a little gross and pervy himself towards the end, semi public sex, kinda Dom!Eddie, all characters are 18+

Please let me know if I've forgotten anything and I can update it.

A/N: This was just a little something that came to my mind randomly a while ago, I've had it on my "to write" list for ages and decided to finally check it off, now that I'm actually starting to put some content out there. Enjoy! Please leave feedback, I always like to hear how people have enjoyed my writing.

Requests are OPEN

Smut under the cut

"Hurry up, Eds, come on. We don't have long" you giggled as you held your boyfriend's hand, leading him around to that little spot behind the gym block that you had both claimed as your little makeout spot. It was down a nice little alley, secluded apart from the two openings at either end. One of which was a brick wall that meant you could only go right or left and those little pathways leading off of it were rarely used by anyone, if ever. So it was pretty prime makeout spot material. You were surprised no one else had found it before. Unless you just didn't know about it.

"Oh don't you worry sweetheart, I'm coming alright" he said from behind you with a big smirk that you could literally hear, grabbing your hips and leaning around to nip at your ear, humming against your warm skin.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, turning to face him, taking his hand again as you turned the corner and walked backwards further into the alley. "Stop being such a pervert babe, just hurry up and kiss me" you said, biting your lip as you slowly backed towards the wall, squeezing at his hand.

He grinned at you and obliged, his palms grabbing you by both sides of your face and smashing his lips against yours, making your back hit the wall a little harder than he'd intended, mumbling a small apology to you. You just melted into the kiss though, sighing into his mouth as you rested your hands on his biceps, slowly rubbing them up and down and gently squeezing. You loved Eddie's arms, all that lifting amps and guitars and music equipment from his band's shows and practices really paid off. He didn't look very strong to most people, but he definitely was. You for one knew it by the way he lifted you with ease and threw you around in his bedroom or the back of his van. Or one time The Hideout bathrooms.

"I've been waiting for this all day, I always miss you so much when I have to go to these stupid fucking classes" your boyfriend hummed against your lips, his hands now moving to your waist and gripping at you, pulling your body against his as he crowded you against the wall. All you could do was nod your head and make a soft noise of agreement, not wanting to stop kissing him even for one second.

You lived for moments like this, however small they were. When you had Eddie all to yourself, even if it was just a quick makeout session when you'd both left class early feigning stomach aches because you'd missed each other too much. It didn't matter that you'd just saw each other at lunch, you were inseparable and you both really noticed the others absence when you weren't together. Even if it was something as simple as Eddie going to the store to grab some snacks for your movie night, you'd find yourself launching your body at him as soon as he came back, kissing him like he'd been gone for a lot longer than 10 minutes. And he was just as bad sometimes.

Eddie's hands began to wander, gripping at the soft cotton of your little black tank top, bunching it in his hands as he flicked his tongue across your lips, begging you to open up and let him in. You obliged without even thinking, your arms moving to wrap around his neck, your lips parting to which he took full advantage of, licking into your mouth with a small groan coming from him.

You could tell he was getting a little worked up, with the way your tank top was slowly riding up a little more each second, his greedy hands possessively gripping at it and trying to slyly move it up your skin. Your hands moved to his to sort yourself out a little, trying to pull the top down again. But his hands continued travelling upwards over the material, now cupping your breasts and squeezing. You weren't wearing a bra, so the slightest of friction on your nipples made you gasp a little into his mouth.

"Eds.." you said quietly, breaking the kiss and sounding slightly whiny. "Come on, we said this would be a quick makeout, you can undress me when we get back to yours later" you giggled, feeling his lips latch onto your jaw and suck a little mark into your skin, making you close your eyes and relish in the sensation.

"Baby, I can't help it. God they feel so good.. I gotta see em, please?" He groaned again, his lips now travelling down your jaw in little wet kisses towards your chin and moving to the other side. "Come on, show me your gorgeous tits and then that'll be it, I promise. Just flash me a little bit and I can hold off till later". He sounded desperate, but not in the way where he was whiney or pathetic sounding.

You didn't respond, hoping that if you just ignored it, he'd hopefully not push it any further. One of your hands found his face, gripping his chin gently and guiding him back to your lips, kissing him harder and deeper, your tongues fighting for dominance in each others mouths as you let out an involuntary soft moan into his mouth. Fuck. That wasn't going to help matters. And it didn't.

He groaned and pressed his body against yours, slotting his thigh between your legs and pushing you further into the wall as his hands moved down and slipped under your top, his rough palms now fully engulfing your bare tits, his thumbs gently flicking over your peaked nipples. A shudder ran through you as he did so, gripping onto his arms a little harder as he palmed at you and squeezed the soft skin of your breasts.

"Jesus, please show me 'em sweetheart. Just gotta see em for a second, promise" he said, his voice sounding rough and a tad fucked out as he began trailing his kisses down your neck, finding that one sensitive spot you had that he knew you wouldn't be able to resist and sinking his teeth in, latching on and sucking another bruise into your skin. It made you gasp and grab at his shoulders, looking up at the sky as your eyes fluttered closed from how he was sucking on that spot of your neck and working his thumbs over your nipples, hands shoved up the fabric of your tight top and definitely stretching it out. You tried to swallow down the little whimper that escaped you as he sucked particularly hard, he fucking knew just how to make you give in to him.

You knew he wasn't about to let this go. And when Eddie really wanted something, he got it. You tried to think of an excuse, one worthy enough of Eddie Munson and his stubborn ass. But you were shit out of luck. There wasn't one. You closed your eyes for a second, letting out a sigh as he squeezed a little harder at your tits, slightly pinching your nipples between his thumb and index finger, your back arching a little against the wall as he did so. "Fine" you said, trying to sound annoyed but how could you when he had you like this? "But I swear, just for a second and no more. I don't need someone coming around the corner and seeing me standing here with my tits out"

He let go of your skin from his mouth with a wet pop, kissing the now dark purple mark on the juncture of your neck which made you whimper slightly again, before he pulled back with a shit eating grin on his face. He palmed at your tits once more, biting his lip and nodding down towards them. "Go on then princess. Show me the goods" he winked at you, taking his hands out from under your top and resting them on your hips, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into the skin just above where the waistband of your cute little plaid skirt lay.

You rolled your eyes at him, trying hard not to let the smile on your face crack through. You didn't want him to think you were enjoying this. But you kinda were. Even if you were terrified of someone catching you and seeing you indecent at school, it was sort of exciting. Your heart was thumping in your chest as you moved your hands down towards the hem of your shirt, grabbing at it with your fingertips gently and slowly sliding it up your body, almost as if you were teasing him.

He looked at you completely entranced, his eyes widening as you revealed your tits to him, watching as you lifted the tight fabric up and over and both of your breasts bounced out from underneath, jiggling as they settled where they naturally lay. You held the top up just at your collarbones even though you didn't have to, gulping as you looked side to side, making sure no one was coming. If someone did appear, then you could quickly cover yourself up again.

Eddie's gaze was completely and utterly on your chest. His mouth hung open wide, eyes almost popping out of his skull as he stared at them like he'd never seen them before, like you were showing him for the first time that night in his bedroom when you'd confessed that you had a crush on him. He was a complete sucker for your tits. He swears he'd never see a better pair. Not even in nudey magazines or pornos he'd sometimes smuggle home from Family Video.

"Okay, is that enough? Can I put them away now and we can get back to smooching a little more?" You giggled, about to move the top back down and cover yourself up again. What you didn't see was Eddie moving without thinking, grabbing both your tits with his hands and his mouth latching onto one of your nipples, sucking and flicking his tongue over it as you looked down and gasped. "Eddie! Come on, we can't do this here" you hissed at him, watching as he looked up at you and then closed his eyes, pinching your other nipple as his teeth grazed at the one his mouth was currently attached to, a muffled groan coming from him.

You couldn't help but bite your lip and moan a little as he moved to the other one quickly, your hands coming away from where your top sat bunched up against your collarbones, one moving into his hair and tugging at it, trying to get him off of you. But it was no use, it just made him suck harder at your nipple, biting at the sensitive bud as his tongue flicked faster.

"E-Eddie.. not here..." you complained pathetically, your cheeks now completely red and flushed with embarrassment, the thought of someone coming around the corner and catching you with your boyfriend with his mouth quite literally glued to your chest making your heart thud harder than it normally would when he did this. His free hand had started to wander too, fingers running up the inside of your thigh under your skirt, the cool rings on each of his fingers making you shiver a little as they brushed against your skin.

"Why not? No ones here, no one ever comes here baby, come on.. let's just have a little fun hm?" He said as he looked up at you with his big brown eyes, fluttering his damn long lashes at you while his tongue peeked out of his mouth and circled each of your now stiff nipples, paying equal attention to them both as his hand under your skirt moved higher, your leg instinctively lifting up for him as he cupped your pussy gently and rubbed his fingers over the damp lace of your panties, a shaky quiet moan coming from you as he did so, your hand flying to your mouth to cover it. You didn't need anyone who was nearby hearing that kind of noise and suddenly getting intrigued.

"We can be quick, I promise, I just.. fuck, I need you so bad. And I know you need me too, I can feel how wet you are already" he grinned up at you, teeth grazing over your nipple as his fingers moved up and toyed with the elastic at the top of your underwear, sliding his hand down into them, two of his fingers parting your folds and stroking you teasingly, gathering up some of your wetness from your entrance on his middle finger. "Oh, my little slut really is fucking dripping for me"

Your eyes rolled back a little, another moan coming from you muffled by your hand. He knew he had you right where he wanted you, he knew you wouldn't be able to resist much longer, especially when he was talking to you like that. So he moved his mouth back onto one of your peaked nipples and sucked at it again, groaning and finding your clit with his fingers. As soon as he started to rub slow circles over it, you shuddered and fell forward a little. Your hand coming away from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut and then looked down at him. He was making you feel so fucking good, his fingers were well and truly skilled, as was his mouth. You cursed past you for all those nights you spent teaching him exactly how you liked it, all those nights he discovered a new way to make you crumble. And this was one of them. Sucking your tits while rubbing your pussy was always one way Eddie could get whatever he wanted. And he always looked so fucking pretty while doing it, even with a shit eating grin on his face because he knew exactly what it did to you.

"Fine. Okay, fine. But be quick, please Eds, I don't wa-" you were cut off by Eddie suddenly unlatching from your nipple, both of his hands suddenly under your skirt and pulling your panties down your legs. A little dumbfounded by how quickly he was getting them off you, you stepped out of them and watched him stuff them into his back pocket as he stood up again. Grinning at you devilishly, he was suddenly lifting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as you grabbed at his shoulders and let out a surprised squeal, one of his hands holding you up under your ass and squeezing, his other hand down at his belt unbuckling himself and making quick work of undoing his jeans.

Now he had you giving into him and giving him what he wanted, he'd do as he wanted. "I'll be as quick as I want to be. Or maybe I'll take my time. Make you late for class cause you're too busy being stuffed with my cock" he chuckled darkly, licking his lips as he freed his cock from his boxers, shoving them and his jeans down underneath his ass and moving closer to you again, rubbing his cock against your drenched slit as your boyfriend pinned you against the wall with his full body.

You could feel the fat head of him dripping with precum and nudging against your clit, making you whine a little. Eddie was long and thick, definitely the biggest you'd ever had. At first you'd been intimidated by his cock, but that was long gone now. You loved it, you begged for it sometimes too. You bit your lip and looked up at him, watching as he smirked and groaned, his nose slotted beside yours, letting your slick coat his cock as he made you needier for him. "Eddie please.. just.. just..."

Without another word, he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly started to push himself inside you, holding you up against the wall with both hands under your ass. Both of your arms were tightly wrapped around his neck, one hand on his back and the other in his hair, your mouth hung open as he stretched you out slowly, a choked moan coming from you as he bottomed out, stilling for a moment to let you adjust. You'd been with Eddie for months now, but you still needed a second to get used to him when he was fully inside you.

"Jesus FUCK angel, so fucking tight and so wet. And it's all for me ain't it?" He groaned, burying his face into your neck as he all but lost his mind, feeling your warm velvety walls clench down on him at his words. He slowly drew back and thrusted in again, making you bite down hard on your lip so you didn't moan too loudly as the sting of the stretch turned into burning pleasure, nodding slowly to agree with him that you were infact all his.

You were still absolutely fucking terrified of being caught. Of another student who was also ditching class stumbling across you both while trying to find somewhere secret to smoke or something. Or worse.. a teacher who'd been on the lookout for ditching students. The thought of it made you come to your senses a little, looking around cautiously as Eddie started fucking into you slowly but hard, mumbling curses into your neck and squeezing your tits, making you mewl under his touch. Maybe no one would come out here. Maybe you could just enjoy your boyfriend fucking you at school, when you should both be in class.

You were just about to look back at him and stop worrying so much, when suddenly you saw something move out of the corner of your eye and your heart almost fucking stopped. Your head snapped to where you saw the movement and you gasped loudly. You saw a little piece of brown wavy hair and an eye peeking out from the corner.

Someone was watching you.

Someone was watching Eddie fuck you right now. You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your throat, your mouth opening to try and speak, but only being able to let out a strangled noise as Eddie fucked you a little harder and squeezed at your ass, his fingers digging into the globe of it. You were about to slap his shoulder, alert him to something being wrong, when the person watching moved out of the corner a little more and pressed their finger to their lips and shaking their head, telling you to be quiet as their mouth moved in a silent "Shhh". It was then that you saw exactly who it was.

Steve Harrington.

Steve fucking Harrington was watching your boyfriend fuck you right now against a wall behind the gym block. Steve Harrington, the king of Hawkins High, the captain of the basketball team, the beer keg champion. The pervert.

You looked at him in complete confusion, wondering what he was doing. How long had he been there? How much had he seen? You shook your head a little at him, waving your hand at him as if to shoo him off. But it was just as the head of Eddie's cock nudged at your g-spot in the right way and made you cry out in a moan, your head falling back against the wall that he was currently rutting you into. "Oh, there she is, is that good baby? Let it all out, let me hear all your pretty noises" Eddie mumbled, kissing up your jaw with his eyes clamped shut, mouthing at you sloppily as he moaned himself completely unabashedly. He clearly wasn't caring if you got caught. And he clearly wasn't aware of Steve's presence right now.

He'd always thought you were hot, you were insanely pretty and he'd always imagined what your tits looked like, maybe he'd even jerked off to your yearbook picture a couple times too. So when he had been walking around the school to cool off after Billy Hargrove pissed him off one too many times in gym class and he happened to stumble across you flashing your tits to Eddie, he absolutely couldn't pass up this opportunity. He immediately got hard as a rock and.. well he just couldn't help his 'manly urges'. He had to help himself out. And he definitely didn't want to stop watching when things got hotter and heavier.

You looked over at Steve again in a slight panic, seeing him watching you both intently, his eyes completely open wide in awe, licking his lips like he was concentrating hard on something. You quickly registered the fact that he looked like he was a little flushed. And then you saw his gym shorts were pushed down a little, his hand wrapped around his thick pink cock while he gripped at himself tightly, his other hand lifting his shirt up a little to let you see his toned stomach. You didn't think he was as big as Eddie from where you could see, but shit he definitely had a big dick. A little bit of precum dribbled from the slit of it and he immediately swiped it away, using his thumb to rub it into his cock and making eye contact with you, stroking at himself faster and smirking. He was enjoying that he'd been caught watching you both.

You couldn't fucking believe this. Not only was he watching Eddie fuck you, but he was getting off to it too. You were livid. You were absolutely disgusted. You were more soaked than you'd ever been. You're not sure why.. but having Steve watch you two was making your cunt flutter more around Eddie and your juices drip out of you. Eddie always usually had you soaked, but something about being watched like this, about someone seeing you completely indecently, your tits bouncing every single time Eddie thrusted his hips harshly into you.. yeah, it was fucking hot.

"Faster Eddie.. please.. god, please fuck me faster" you gasped, tugging at his hair and nibbling at his ear, keeping eye contact with Steve the whole time, deciding that if he wasn't going to shy away in embarrassment now that he's been caught and he was gonna continue to watch, then you better give him a good show right? Eddie, of course, obliged, cursing under his breath as he grabbed you under your thighs and shifted you up the wall a little, his hips snapping against your thighs hard enough to definitely leave bruises the next day.

Steve's eyes widened more and he raised his eyebrows as you spoke, lifting his hand up to his mouth and spitting into his hand, before going back to jerking himself off, trying to match the speed of which Eddie was fucking you now. He bit his lip to stop him from moaning, his eyes flicking from your face, your tits and Eddie's ass rutting into you. He couldn't help but imagine exactly how Eddie's length looked sliding in and out of your tight cunt, biting down on his lip harder as his head fell back for a second, before reminding himself that it was happening right in front of him and he could look. His head snapped back up, and he looked at you with a dark look in his eyes, his tongue darting over his lips and wetting them, moving out of the corner a little more and letting you get a good look at him and what he was doing.

No one knew this, but Steve liked being a bit of a disgusting pervert. Everyone thought just because he was "The King" and got any girl he wanted falling at his feet that he wouldn't need to be. He kinda liked the thought of spying on people when he thought they were alone. He'd never done it before, not until now. He'd thought about doing it plenty of times at parties, hiding in closets and waiting until some unsuspecting couple came stumbling into the room looking for somewhere private to fuck each others brains out. But he'd always chicken out and never actually acted on it. Not until this perfect opportunity presented itself and literally fell at his feet.

You gasped as you watched him, still a little in disbelief, moaning into Eddie's ear as he continued ramming into you. "Oh god, yeah, that's it baby, just like that, keep doing that, fuck that cock feels so good" you moaned out, keeping eye contact with Steve and licking your own lips slowly as your head fell back against the wall again, one hand coming to grab at your own breast and toying with your nipple, feeling yourself get closer to your orgasm. You weren't sure if you were playing it up on purpose now because Steve was watching, or if Eddie really was just making you feel that good. You felt his hand slide between your bodies, immediately finding your clit and making you cry out his name as he began furiously rubbing at your sensitive bud.

"You gonna cum for me pretty girl? Gonna gush all over this big dick, hm?" Eddie panted into your neck, groaning as he felt you clamp down on him. "That's it, come on princess, let me see you cum all over my dick" he said raspily as he lifted his head and looked down at the way your cunt swallowed his cock whole, holding onto his shoulders to keep yourself up as he parted your legs wider and held you there.

You nodded your head, your eyes flicking to him and then over to Steve again who was now tugging at himself furiously, standing on his tiptoes, hoping to get a tiny glimpse of your soaked cunt. He had to quickly cover his mouth as he caught sight of Eddie's fingers moving rapidly over your clit and sucked a breath in, stopping himself from making any noise and ultimately being caught by your boyfriend. He wasn't quite sure how Eddie would react, probably not in a great way since he saw how possessive he was over you, how he'd give death stares to any guy who's eyes lingered on you a little too long. Definitely not in the way you had reacted. He was still surprised at how you didn't even say anything, how you didn't rat him out and seemed to actually enjoy him watching you two. And God was he grateful. You're not sure why you didn't say, and you're even more unsure of why you're enjoying him watching your boyfriend about to make you cum.

"I'm.. I'm gonna cum! Eddie, fuck! I'm cumming!" You moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you felt your back arch and that knot in your stomach break, your orgasm washing over you with a loud gasp, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your head lulled forward and you opened your eyes, watching yourself squirt all over your boyfriends dick, his fingers rubbing at your clit making it a little more messy than it should have been, your fingers digging into the back of his neck, your nails leaving little half moon marks as he hissed at the feeling.

You'd never done that before. Eddie continued looking down as he felt the liquid spill from you, his eyes widening as he realised what had just happened. "Holy shit.. holy fucking shit" he said with a gasp, looking up at you and fucking into you faster, grabbing your jaw with his fingers covered in your release and kissing you hard, moaning into your mouth as he made out with you filthily, chasing his own high. His movements started to stutter and you opened your eyes, looking over as you watched Steve tug harshly at his now angry looking cock, his face screwing up as he looked at the puddle of your cum underneath you both and the way he was fucking into you. You moaned back into Eddie's mouth, your eyes half lidded and your mind fuzzy from the intensity of your orgasm.

"Cum for me baby, want you to cum for me please" you whimpered out against Eddie's lips. A small part of you was talking to Steve too, wanting to see the face he made when he orgasmed out of curiosity more than anything else. He knew you were talking to him too, nodding his head as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and his brow furrowed, letting you know he was close, his chest heaving as his eyes glazed over.

"M'cumming sweetheart, don't you worry, m'gonna fill you up baby, oh fuck, shit!" Eddie grunted out, his voice cracking as he did just that, panting against your cheek as he gasped and moaned your name, his eyes squeezing shut tight. His forehead rested against your temple as he slowed down his movements and twitched a little, thrusting into you shakily as his cum spilled into your now oversensitive pussy, the sensation of it making you whine.

You watched as Steve's own face scrunched up and he gasped quietly, his eyelids fluttering a little as he fought to keep them open so he could keep looking. His mouth was hanging open, his hand rubbing at his length as he shot thick ropes of cum out onto the ground, his body jerking forward a little and making him stumble, cursing under his breath silently as his head fell back and he milked every last drop from himself. He looked down and watched as the last few drops of his cum dribbled out, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. You're really not fucking sure why you find watching him cum so hot, why it made you whine just as Eddie did when he came inside you. You can't believe how much he came too, blinking slowly as you looked all of it on the ground in front of him.

"God baby.. you.. you fucking squirted" Eddie said in a breathy chuckle, opening his eyes and grabbing your jaw, guiding you back to kiss him, this time was much softer than before. He was being gentle with you now. "You've never done that before, my filthy girl. Was it really that hot, getting fucked behind the school where we could be caught? It was the hottest fucking thing that's ever happened to me, that's for sure" You giggled into his mouth and shrugged your shoulders. If only he knew.

"Maybe a lil' bit. Maybe you just turned me on that much" you said with a grin as you kissed him back, wincing a little as he slid himself out of you. He slowly lowered you down, rubbing gently at your tits and slowly lifting your top down for you, not before he kissed each of your sensitive nipples, which made you squirm and push at his shoulders gently in protest.

"Goodbye girls, I'll miss you" he said to your boobs with a big fake pout, looking at them and smoothing the fabric of your tank top back down your body as you watched Steve putting his cock away into his gym shorts. He was nodding his head with a grin on his face, almost like he was agreeing with Eddie. And it made you giggle just as much as Eddie's fake pouting did. You held your hand out expectantly, raising your eyebrows at Eddie. Who just looked up at your hand and then at you, cocking his head to the side with a dumb smile on his face. "What baby?"

"Um.. my underwear maybe? I kinda need those. Unless you want everyone to see your cum dribbling down my legs" you scoffed, already feeling some of it sliding down the inside of your thigh. You watched him as he squatted down in front of you and lifted your skirt up fully again, holding it bunched in his hand at the waistband. You felt your cheeks get all hot and looked over at Steve again who was smirking and leaning against the wall, his eyes glued to your pussy as Eddie lifted one of your thighs with the hand not holding your skirt up, spreading you out and revealing your creampied messy cunt to him. And to Steve.

"Keep your leg up just like that for me, Princess. Just like that, need to have a good look at my pretty pussy" he said, his voice low and gently commanding. You did as he said, keeping it held up and looked back down at Eddie, watching as he hummed and scratched his chin with a smirk on his face, like he was thinking about something. He took your panties from his back pocket and wiped up the cum from your leg slowly, grinning up at you. He gently wiped over your cunt a little too, chuckling darkly when you jerked and hissed with how sensitive you were.

Steve thought he was going to blow his load again as he watched on. He hadn't really seen just how perfect your pussy was. So pink and wet, your clit practically throbbing still. And it looked so fucking good filled with cum too. He began to wonder if Eddie did in fact know he was there and was just trying to make him jealous, showing him that it was his cum inside of you and not Steve's. Either way, he wasn't particularly fussed, he still got a great view of your legs spread and what lay between them.

"There. That should do it. I don't think you need panties anyway, considering I'm just gonna have you on my cock in a couple hours again anyway" he shrugged and winked at you, standing up to his full height and letting your skirt fall back down around your thighs, both of your feet firmly planted on the ground again as he shoved the now soiled panties back into his back pocket. You rolled your eyes at him and slapped his chest gently with a hand.

"You're disgusting" you laughed, shaking your head and smoothing your skirt out. "Come on, we're already late for class since someone decided me flashing them wasn't enough" you said with a small sigh as you reached out for his hand and pushed yourself up off the wall, smiling wide at him.

He grinned at you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. "You love that I'm disgusting" he winked at you, making you roll your eyes again. It was true. You kinda did love it when he was gross like that. "It's never enough, sweetheart. You know I can't resist you" he said as he kissed your cheek sloppily and loudly, accentuating the Mwah! sound of his lips smacking against your skin. You giggled and looked over your shoulder, watching as Steve stood there and winked at you, kissing the air towards you and flicking his tongue at you lewdly.

"That was fun though, Eddie. Maybe we should do it again sometime. Was kinda hot thinking we might get caught" you said, watching as he turned back around the corner and walked away, smirking as he heard what you said. Eddie simply chuckled and looked down at you, right as you turned to look up at him, smiling wide and melting into his side.

"Oh my girl enjoyed that did she? Are you a little exhibitionist baby? You want one of the jocks to catch us and see what they're missing out on and can't ever have cause you're all mine?" He said as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek, making you giggle.

"Maybe a little bit..." you shrugged your shoulder, blushing at the fact that you know one of the jocks had already caught you. And it was Steve fucking Harrington nonetheless, who stood there and jerked off right in front of you, totally uncaring. Steve would definitely think about what he'd just witnessed later. Your jiggly round tits and your puffy dripping cunt was firmly embedded in his wank bank as jerk off material now. Or for when he was sleeping with some chick who was a little less skilled than he was used to and he needed something to get him off.

And maybe every now and then you'd think back to it too, to when you'd thought you had Eddie all alone behind the gym block..

But instead there was a peeping tom named Steve Harrington, watching your completely oblivious boyfriend cum inside you as you licked your lips at him and watched him stroke his cock.

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Wanna read part 2? Find it here

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coldstonedreamery · 1 month

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my first boyfriend worked at this dairy that I’d drive by every morning omw to high school, and some days he’d switch out the letters on the huge marquee sign to read “hi maya” or “maya<3”. i think it’s the most romantic thing anyone’s done for me to this day. i used to visit him after school and watch him play dice and he’d always sneak me snacks. one time we stole a bunch of egg nog cases for a house party, but he eventually got fired for selling coke or something through the drive way who knows

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prettyinsophie · 5 months

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burning desire

Synopsis: With Abby away at some party and your body aching and asking for release, you can’t help but touch yourself while pretending it’s your roommate.

warnings: top abby x virgin (lowkey loser) reader, fingering (r receiving), mentions of strap, squirting, r gets caught by abby, sex toys.

2.9k words

a/n: i’m going to pretend this isn’t way too specific. it’s my first time posting here so im sorry in advance if there are any mistakes, english is not my first language and i wrote this in a rush bc im going insane😇

ofelia si te sale esto no lo leas‼️

There was something utterly wrong with you.

As a girl, you went through your awful womanhood cycle and all that. You never entirely understood how all of it worked, you just ovulated when you were extremely horny and wanted to either kill yourself or everyone around you when on your period. That much you knew about your own body and every other girl went through the same.

The problem was you’ve been on fucking heat for over a month.

Your hormones were a mess, the sexual frustration consumed your being and you couldn’t find a solution. You were a virgin, and quite frankly, an awkward person so it was hard for you to even initiate small talk without quickly making it uncomfortable with your lack of social skills.

You tried distracting yourself throughout the day by attending your classes, doing homework, scrolling through Tiktok, and exercising. Even if you ended up beat by the end of the day, that damn aching between your legs would not leave you alone, and you had to touch yourself to at least make it less awful.

Unfortunately, you didn’t live alone. You shared an apartment with Abby, your high school friend who so happened to get into the same college as you. You didn’t mind, of course, you liked Abby, and now that she was grown and muscular you couldn’t deny she was a total eye-snack. Thing was, you were jealous of whoever the fuck she brought to your shared apartment, Abby must be some sort of goddess if she could make girls scream like that, begging her not to stop while choking in their tears, the bed loudly creaking to the point the blonde had to buy a new mattress. You resented it. You had to settle with sex toys while she fucked almost every week.

The amount of batteries you had in your drawer was embarrassing. Every night you had to abuse your pussy while thinking it was a certain girl doing it for you, had to get good at being silent because you’d throw yourself off the window if Abby ever heard you. Your clit ended red and puffy after an hour of nonstop intimate time with yourself, your eyes swollen because the scenarios in your head were so intense you cried while thrusting a six-inch vibrator inside you, touching that sweet spot it took some time for you to master hitting perfectly until your head went numb, and you squirted all over the pink towel you covered the bed with so you wouldn’t wet the pretty covers and sheets you slept in.

You were ashamed of how filthy your fantasies were for a twenty-year-old virgin, it always hit you once you were over, panting heavily in silence while blushing because your private thoughts and desires bugged you.

You hoped it’d all end soon, that maybe your hormones were a bit crazy just because they decided so be in a silly mood. Every girl goes through shit like this. But no. God was testing you, progressively getting needier as the days passed by. Your god-awful gorgeous friend/roommate worsened it whenever you were doing your assignments at the dining table, and she came home from the gym looking so dirty and delicious, your eyes struggling to focus on your laptop screen and not the way her muscles glistened with not-fully-dried sweat and looked like the glazed donuts you loved eating as a sweet treat, the comparison didn’t make sense, but her body made you feel hungry. You were so sexually frustrated you were convinced you had gone insane.

You wished someone would approach and straight up told you to fuck. You’d accept without second thoughts. But it was the real world, as pretty as you were, you still looked awkward and shy. Fuck your life, honestly. Why couldn’t you be dauntless like the girls who flirted with Abby? Touching her biceps while twirling their hair as they looked at her with nothing but lust and confidence. They were embarrassedly bold but they got exactly what they wanted because Abby was a sucker for pretty girls like that, she loved to fuck the cockiness out of them.

You couldn’t help but think about it every day. You were pathetic, imagining how it would feel to be under her, talking you through it, making you lie there and do nothing but take her until your legs turned into jelly and make you forget all about your stupid sex toy collection hidden in a box under your bed.

Anyways.

Tonight was going to be fun. Abby told you a friend of hers would be throwing a party, subtly inviting you, but you didn’t take the hint and told her to have fun, so off she went an hour ago, leaving you alone in your shared apartment.

Eagerly and with your heart thudding, you arranged everything before jumping right into it, at this point it was just as important in your nocturnal ritual as your skincare routine. You had bought a new toy, this one being 7.4 inches and a bit thicker than your other ones, so you were a bit excited to try it, hoping the sensation would help you release more of your frustration.

With a silky pillow under your lower back, you lied in your bed and took a deep breath, your fingers slowly rubbing your clit, making you gasp softly at the familiar but delicious feeling. Your muscles quickly relaxed as you kept circling your needy button. You didn’t need much teasing, you were already wet, arousal sneaking down and making you groan because it was icky.

Lately, you didn’t rely on your hand that much, ever since you figured out the way to hit your G spot, that’s almost all you needed to come. That being said, you took the pink toy in your hand, lining it down your entrance and teasing yourself by lubing the tip of it with your arousal, imagining it was Abby’s strap and spreading your legs. You had to be quiet every time you masturbated, but you were completely alone now and you wanted to treat yourself by taking the liberty to be as loud as you felt like. Pants and whines of desperation filled your room once you started taking inch by inch of the toy slowly. There were nights you straight up wanted to release everything and go to sleep, or nights such as this, where you felt like dragging your orgasm to make it intense and mind-breaking.

“Holy shit.” You whined once the vibrator was deep inside, you closed your eyes and played start to your fake scenarios.

In your wild fantasies, Abby would tease you, keeping her strap in place while circling your clit and making you wait for her to move. So you did that. Little whimpers left your lips while imagining her talking in your ear, whispering sweet encouraging words. You could multitask with no problem at this point, it was routine. You turned on the vibrator, hips jerking at the feeling and your lips hung as you gasped. Thrusting it slowly the fantasies grew steamier, and your cheeks flushed at the sound of your voice doing all those pathetic and pornographic sounds.

It was big. When you bought it you were so cocky about it but you were actually struggling to slide it in and out smoothly, but thankfully you were so wet it only took a few minutes. And so the madness began. In your head, Abby was fucking you with her strap, your hand moving fast and aiming for your sweet spot like your life depended on it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered out loud, the buzzing toy hitting the right place inside of you while you kept rubbing your clit clumsily because it felt so good.

You wanted her. Pitiful whines getting caught in your throat when you remembered Abby was far from your apartment, far from your room, and definitely far from your bed. She was probably messing around with another girl at that party. You winced at the thought, feeling like crying as you kept abusing your pussy. Imaginary Abby would slap you and grab your chin so you’d look at her, telling you to stop drifting away from her when she’s right there with you, to not listen to those silly thoughts of yours.

Your therapist would never hear of this.

“Oh my god, Abby! Please, please, please-” You were okay with being loud at this point, whatever you usually blabbered under your breath now resonating on the walls of your room.

Sometimes you wished you had four hands so you could add a little something to your intimate sessions. You wanted to know how it would feel to have her deep inside with her big and strong hand wrapped around your neck, preventing you from breathing properly while praising you. Shit. Your hand moved faster and rougher, seeking for the most realistic sensation possible. Wanting to pretend this was the real Abby pounding into you.

You needed her. Your eyes stung with tears as your chest heaved because the toy was now at the highest setting, hitting your sweet spot oh so deliciously you were even drooling.

With your eyes squinted shut your mind went fuzzy, the scenario pausing for a moment while focusing on the familiar twisting in your tummy and reaching for your orgasm. Abby was calling your name in the distance, you were so into it for a moment you felt worried about how real it went through your ears.

“Yes, yes, yes! Right there, Abby! Plea-se-!”

Your voice cracked. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you choked weak whimpers while squirting all over the towel, so intense even the toy almost flew out of your cunt. Your legs trembled and you panted loudly, riding out your fifth climax of the week. The cold air of your room hit your bare lower body and made you groan because your slick was drying up and you hated the feeling, but you also needed time to recover before cleaning your mess.

After a few moments, you sighed and opened your eyes, slightly leaning onto your side to grab your phone on the nightstand. You froze at the figure of someone standing by your door. Your stomach dropped and you could feel your heart in your throat.

Abby was there, standing with her arms crossed while looking at you with a stare you couldn’t decipher. No. This could not be happening to you. No!

“Abby-“ You sobbed, the shame betraying you by making you cry.

“How long?” She asked, her blue eyes staring into your soul even from a further distance. Her voice lower than how she usually talks to you.

“W-What?”

“How long have you wanted me to fuck you?”

The question sent a shiver down your spine. This was definitely not how you imagined it’d play out, not in one of your thousands of wet dreams.

“A while…” You mumbled embarrassed, looking away from her. Thankfully you were only naked from the hips down to your feet, you were wearing an oversized shirt that could cover your most private parts.

Abby seemed pleased with your answer. A heavy and shaky sigh left her nose as she walked to your bed.

“And you do this every night while thinking about me?”

The question (which sounded more like a statement) stabbed your core sharply. You nodded and felt your cheeks blushing in shame.

The bed creaked when she joined you in it, getting on top of you while smirking smugly. Your pretty face was adorned with confusion and embarrassment. Lips puffy from crying and your face dampened and red.

“Poor girl. Had to hear me pleasing other girls instead of you, hm? You should’ve just said so, baby.” She comforted you, brushing her fingers against your cheek, making you shiver at the unfamiliar contact.

“Didn’t want to mess with your innocence, you’re so pure I couldn’t dare break you. That’s why I used whoever wanted to throw themselves at me, but turns out that’s all you wanted all along? Wanted me to make you cry and beg?”

Holy fuck. You thought as you were getting wet again. You almost whimpered because this was the real thing. 4D Abby was on top of you and talking dirty with her husky and alluring voice.

“Yes.”

You hated yourself so much. Just a few moments ago you were so mouthy to her in your fantasy and you couldn’t even form a sentence with the real one. Abby laughed at you as if finding you amusing.

“‘Yes’ what, pretty girl?”

This was it. You were going to go for it.

“I-I want you to…fuck me and make me scream and beg for more.” You stuttered softly, looking into her eyes while batting your lashes because you couldn’t maintain eye contact.

“Yeah? I bet I can do a better job than your toys.” She leaned down, your faces closer than you ever thought they’d get, sucking the air out of your lungs.

You yelped in surprise when her fingers went down your folds, spreading the wetness as she teased your sensitive parts. “So wet, waiting for me to read your mind and touch you, huh? Gotta use your big girl words. C’mon, tell me what you want.”

Her voice melted your brain as her fingers spread your lips, making you gasp and squirm under her. You were too shy for your own good, she knew that as well but that made this more interesting. Abby wanted to see how far she could lead you, and how much control she could have on you.

“Please touch me.” Your voice was breathy and almost weak, feeling her fingers replacing your own was too much.

She circled your throbbing clit, causing you to close your eyes and whine loudly.

“You like that?”

“Y-Yes, so so much, Abby.” Your mouth was getting loose, drunk in pleasure and your head was still dizzy from your previous climax. Abby could feel herself getting wet from your reactions to minimal touch.

Poor little thing, so touch-starved. She thought while continuing to please you.

You mumbled curses and her name under your breath. Hands gripping the covers of your bed tightly because she was the one touching you, you had no control over the speed nor the pressure her fingers had on your sensitive bud. Your legs squirmed as you spread them further so she’d position herself more comfortably between them.

“Want you inside, n-need you inside!” You begged pathetically, looking at her with half-lidded eyes.

Abby couldn’t believe this. This was too good to be true and she couldn’t wait anymore either. She kept boundaries out of respect, she knew you were a virgin and had no experience, and she didn’t want to scare you off with her deprived desires. Yet you were there, asking her with tears in your eyes to fill you up. You were so desperate she wanted to eat you alive.

“‘M gonna use my fingers, doll. Don’t wanna fuck you with the same strap I use with other girls. I’m going to get you your own, and I’m going to fuck this horniness out of you. You’ll only need me.” She whispered in your ear before shoving two of her fingers inside you, gaining a loud whimper from you.

Her fingers were thick and long, she filled you up almost perfectly you didn’t want this moment to end. Your chest raised up and down as you struggled to breathe properly. She moved them in and out, curling them expertly inside your warm walls.

“Faster, please.”

Abby knew once you two were done tonight, every time she’d hear the word ‘please’ from you would be a trigger. She wanted to tease you, drag you to the edge, but she was aware of how frustrated you felt and it was pitiful. So she let you give her orders, just this once though.

She hit it. That magnificent spot of yours that sent you to the moon. You were a moaning mess, hairs sticking to your forehead with sweat while she kept thrusting her fingers forcefully.

“Fuck, Abby! There, holy fuck.” You blabbered, your back arching off the bed, and the pillow under you helped to reach your g spot smoothly. Abby was also panting, even groaning because you were giving her a show. The things she’d do to you from now on, whew, she was going to ruin you.

“So pretty, taking my fingers so well. Want you to come all over them, doll. You think you can do that for me?”

Nodding drastically up and down, she sped up if that was even possible. Your tummy swooped and you didn’t realize you had tears running down your cheeks. Abby’s face was blurry and your eyes struggled to focus. Your hand found her bicep, clawing it with your acrylic nails as you reached the delicious bliss.

“Shitshitshit!”

Moaning Abby’s name and profanities, you came on her fingers and probably her pants as well. You kept squirting while sobbing because you’ve never experienced an orgasm like this one, your legs shaking against your will. Now you were panting, catching your breath and when you opened your eyes and met with hers, reality hit you.

You opened your puffy lips to say something, but Abby cut you off.

“Next time it’ll be my cock.”

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby smut #tlou2 #abby fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic

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attapullman · 2 months

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Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head.

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action.

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?"

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester.

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed.

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg.

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse.

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily.

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester.

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!”

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch.

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house.

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare?

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face.

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats.

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest.

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe.

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?”

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them.

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself.

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher.

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder.

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.”

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you.

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent.

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good.

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind.

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right.

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands.

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses.

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out.

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light.

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months

Text

DC x DP: Magic Older Brother

It happens the day of his high school graduation because Casper High is cursed, and the curse personally targets Danny. Danny doesn't care what anyone says. He will die on that hill.

The school is cursed, which is why he turned into a halfa in his freshmen year, throwing his life into chaos all throughout sophomore and junior year, and now that he was finally leaving it, this happens.

An attack by a ghost he has never seen or met before. She calls herself "Lady Gotham," and her name doesn't hint at her power or obsession, unlike other ghosts.

He finds it rather rude of her to burst the graduation ceremony just as they called his name.

Danny knew he could take her- she felt more like a city spirit than a ghost, which means she was terribly weak against Phantom- but with so many witnesses, he hadn't been able to transform. Instead, he was blasted with black tar paste that reverted him to the age of ten, and while he stumbled on tiny legs, she took him and threw him into a portal.

He had attempted to shift into his ghost side as soon as he landed, but something was anchoring his core. It felt like he had been hit with the Plasmius Maximus- his powers were out of reach.

He would not be able to take her in a fight after all.

Thankfully, she had been distracted by his parents attempting to rescue him, so she got trapped on the other side of the portal. Still, he felt it would be safer to get as far away from the random field she kidnapped him to before she could return.

So he was running in an unknown storm, to an unknown location from an unknown city spirit instead of having his graduation party with his friends and eating cake.

"Casper High just couldn't give up even on the last day," Danny grumbles while running through the pouring rain of a terrible storm, trying to see through the water and the howling wind. He was drenched head to toe in the water, and he could feel even his bones shaking. He hasn't been this cold since the day his Ice core materialized.

Up ahead, he spots a building. Praying they will take pity on him, he pushes himself to go faster until he's at the door, banging on it with his tiny fists.

"Is someone there? I need help!" He yells as the wind picks up again, almost throwing Danny off balance. "Open the door, please!"

The door cracks open, and one tiny blue eye peeks up at him briefly before it swings open. "Come in! Hurry!"

Danny doesn't need to be told twice as he all but throws himself into the giant building, away from what he is starting to suspect is a hurricane. He turns around to find a little boy- he couldn't be older than nine- struggling with closing the garage door. Danny is quick to help him, and together, after tucking and grunting, they get it shut.

"Thanks," Danny says trying to gather his breath. He glances around, startled to see he's in a big fancy house that reeks of money, maybe more than Vlad or Sam. It is also deadly silent and bare as if someone only attempted to make it look lived-in but forgot to get humans.

"Don't mention it." The kid says almost under his breath. Danny would think of him as shy if the boy wasn't staring at him without so much as blinking.

Kind of creepy.

"Are you here because of my poster?" The kid asks, and Danny has no idea what he's talking about, but he's not about to make the creepy kid angry.

"Sure am."

The boy beams. "This is the first time anyone has responded! Come this way. I have everything in the main ballroom!"

Danny follows eyes taking in all the tasteful decor of various cultures and the complete lack of any other person present. After getting stranded, he found a mansion tucked away from human contact in search of shelter. Strange how that has happened to him twice

The boy leads him to two large double doors which he proudly opens up with a loud "Ta-da!"

Inside the ballroom are rows and rows of bed cots, blankets, and pillows. On one side of the room are tables with water bottles, bowls of snacks, and even little goodie bags. There are board games on a nearby table and clothes folded neatly in various sizes. Next to the tables are piles of teddy bears.

It looks like a movie set of a makeshift shelter that could easily fit a hundred people. Again there is no one else but them. Double creepy.

The boy skips between the first two cots, gesturing to the room. "You're the first one here, so you can first pick! I have board games, food, and clothes for you to burrow at the front if you want! I'm sure we'll have more people soon if you come!"

Danny offers the kids a weak smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome! I'll go wait for everyone at the door. You make yourself comfortable."

While Danny cautiously explores, the kid races back to wait at the door for who knows who. The first thing he does is change into a warm set of clothes- picking a grey set of sweat pants and long sleeve that fits his tiny limbs. He grabs a water bottle and a bag of chips before his eyes land on a pile of brightly colored posters, likely forgotten on the table.

Strom Shelter for free at Drak Mansion

Everyone Welcome!

Sleeping, clothes, food and entertainment are provided!

Kids are invited to Tim Drake's birthday party on the same night!

Doors open at 5pm.

Oh gosh. Oh no.

He looks around the completely empty room and, for the first time, notices a small corner with a very sad "Happy Birthday" banner and a few party hats. At the edge of the table sits a folded half-sheet cake with a lopsided candle in the shape of a nine.

Above that little corner is a large clock that reads ten o'clock.

He puts his things down on a random cot, carefully returning to the front door where the little boy- he assumes Tim Drake- is waiting. He's leaning back and forth on his feet, and Danny can barely pick up his soft words.

"It's okay; they're all just really late. One person came this time so more could be on their way! Don't be sad, Tim. Things are looking up!"

Bless his heart.

Danny tries to reach for his ghost powers and grins when his ice core responds. He glances back at the little boy before he slips into the ballroom. He quickly re-decorates the party corner using his ice, making it look like actual decorations.

He even goes out of his way to open bottles of colored juices- he doubts anyone would drink them- and freezes the liquid so it adds a bit of color to the room. He's left with a winter wonderland with ice sculptures of animals- kids like animals, right?- and he gathers a birthday boy.

"Hey, Tim?"

The kid hurries to his side. "Yes? Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I need the birthday boy to cut his cake!"

Danny strong-arms the kid into the room and is delighted by the absolute happiness that blooms over the boy's face once he sees the room. "Wow! Did you do this?"

"Sure did, kid."

"Are you a wizard like Harry Potter?" The boy asks, and Danny has no idea who that is, but he nods anyway. Maybe it's this world's version of Santa Claus? Who is he to deny the kid's sense of wonder.

"Don't tell anyone." He says with a wink.

"But-But- but I'm a muggle!" The boy cries, suddenly horrified. Danny wonders if that's a slur, and if so, he won't allow him to use it to describe himself with it. "You'll get in trouble for using magic before me!"

"Why?"

"Cause muggles can't know about magic unless they are family! They'll throw you in Azkaban!"

Ugh, okay, he can work with that. "Well, I guess this makes us brothers, doesn't it?"

Tim's eyes practically pop right out of his skull. "Really?!

"Yeah, I'll be your big brother. My name is Danny and we can do something you always wanted to do for your birthday. How does that sound?"

"We can do....anything?"

"It depends on what you want to do, as long as it's legal and safe."

"Will.....you read me a bedtime story? I always wanted to know what that's like."

Danny's heart shatters. "Sure of course. What book do you want to read?"

Tim's face goes slightly pink. "The new Harry Potter book just came out. The goblet of fire? Can we read that?"

Oh, so Harry Potter is a book series! "Sure, Tim. Let's cut the cake and then we can pick a cot to pile blankets on to snuggle down and read."

Danny had never seen a kid look so happy in his life "Okay!"

Later, as Tim is tucked into the crook of his neck and shoulder, fast asleep after the exciting chapter of Harry Potter outflying a dragon Danny is visited by Lady Gotham.

It is only because Tim is too comfortable that he doesn't start swinging at her. She explains Tim's life and the obvious neglect before she bends down until her forehead touches the ground and begs Danny to care for him in her stead.

By morning, the Drakes suddenly acquire a new family member, and no one notices how he appeared overnight, but he's in the system, and no one can fault the documents. Lady Gotham made them herself.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Magic older brother #Lady Gotham gets Tim a breother #Harry Potter is a thing in Tim's world but not Danny's #Danny just kind of accepted it #Tim is so happy to have a brother

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solar-sunnyside-up · 9 months

Text

How to start building your social village--

How do you go from isolated to being apart of a properly connected social circle?? How do I go from that isolated individual to an actually connected person without having to force myself out to be a regular at a club or something??

Pick the most used social media across all your connections (for my this is sadly Facebook but I'm sure you could do this through discord or some other site I'm like 90% sure this is transferable in some formate maybe other ppl could pitch those ideas tho-) and then add everyone you know! And here's the fun stuff you could do in your group!

Functional ideas Village Group for-

Offer to swap babysitting/chores/errands or even buddies for these things

Offer to exchange sale/coupon/bulk buying info (A good example of this is a have a friend who knows a butcher and so her family once every 2 months bulk orders from him directly and it'd WAY cheaper for everyone)

Holiday organizing

Dinner party ideas/hang outs (know 2 or more ppl who like sewing? Organize a dinner once every few months and watch a movie and sew! Do a book club!)

Trade/swap/leading stuff (ex tools, books, unused snacks, boardgames, clothes, etc..)

Offer to be apart of a shared calander (I use Cozi personally but again use your preferred)

Event spamming (community event sharing bc no one ever gets proper info on them in time)

Plant swaps (I personally know like 3 different plant ppl who specialize in different types of plants ex 1 person does a lot of herbs and another does all succulents and another does super well with berries and they always wanna get rid of the babies or spread the spoils)

Organizing work parties (repair parties ex fences/roofs/, bulk cooking parties ex my families perogie parties, tax prep parties, hair dying get togethers, etc..)

Fun ideas for village-

Make a village badge/crest of some kind (at one point was making badges for dinner parties as gifts so this is an easy one for me)

Funny pet photos/meme dump ground

This allows for a pretty fun way to also make ppl feel connected. If I get to know someone fairly well like my neighbor or another parent from my kiddos school- I'll just add them to my weird little club thing! Here's a patch for you. Your family now!!

#sprout guide #social #community #community building #solarpunk #hopepunk #is this anything??#cottagecore #ref #anarchy #gift economy #sleepover saturday

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linopls · 7 months

Text

kinktober day five

first time jeongin x fem!reader summary: spending the night in your childhood bedroom with one of your members didn't go as you expected it. warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, mentions of underage drinking, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v 3.1k words (whoops)

they are both adults (18) here!

“you smell like a red, white, and berry smirnoff.”

jeongin giggles, “your childhood bedroom is cute.”

you never thought any of the stray kids members would visit your childhood home in the states until the boys suggested you come back home for your senior prom. you had committed to finishing your senior year online while still being a member of stray kids knowing that you would miss many of your senior traditions. but the boys could not let go of the idea of you missing your senior prom.

your defensive argument is you had no reason to go as you didn’t have a date, all the boys jumped on the opportunity to take you. chan, minho, and changbin were all too old, according to the permission slip. seungmin and jisung were too worried about not knowing enough english, and hyunjin and felix had both planned trips with their families during this time of break.

this left jeongin, who didn’t care if he didn’t know enough english.

“isn’t prom just dancing anyways?” jeongin asked you a month before the dance, both of you sitting in the JYPE cafe snacking between practices.

“it is,” you reply, taking a fork full of your salad. “but i’ll want you to meet and get to know all my friends.”

“then you can translate for me, think of it as korean practice!”

“pfft, i don’t need more korean practice, you can think of it as english practice.”

jeongin rolls his eyes at you while stuffing his face full of pizza. “i’m going with you to this out of the kindness of my heart, don’t be mean,” he says with his mouth full.

“you are literally the only one able to go.”

about two weeks before the dance, stray kids was finishing promotions for their comeback and you were walking back to the dressing room.

“wait here,” chan says, stopping you outside the door. confusion paints your face as chan stands in front of the door handle, blocking you from entering. you both sit in silence for a minute when there’s a small knock on the door. chan opens the door without saying anything.

you’re greeted with balloons and streamers. on your left hyunjin is holding out a small cake, on your right, felix, minho, seungmin, and changbin, jisung are holding signs that spell out “PROM?”, and in the middle of jeongin is holding a sign that reads ‘I have a QUESTION and I hope there’s no AWKWARD SILENCE but…”

you gasp, hands covering your mouth, and tears form in the corners of your eyes. you never had been asked to a school dance, and never thought you would be. but here’s jeongin, recruiting the help of all the members, to ask you with a cheesy sign.

“my prom research told me that boys usually ask their partners to prom with a sign,” jeongin says walking towards you. “so what do you say?”

you nod, afraid that if you speak you’ll start to cry. you run to hug jeongin and he drops the sign and envelopes you in a warm hug.

“i can’t believe my parents haven’t touched it since i left.”

“it still fits your personality, cute and bubbly.”

jeongin squeezes himself between you and the wall on your twin size bed. he pulls up the pink, polka dot covers over the two of you and cuddles up next to you.

“how much did you drink?” you ask.

“only one,” he says. “we can’t legally drink here.”

you laugh. “and that stopped none of us.”

your friends had encouraged you to host an after party at your house, since your parents were out of state. you and jeongin drink often in korea, being 18 and 19 accordingly. so he found it funny that none of the party goers could legally purchase alcohol but brought a ton of it to the party. both of you only drank one or two beverages, being the hosts of the party you both wanted to remain sober enough. and red, white, and berry smirnoffs being the drink of choice, jeongin claimed it would make him feel more american.

you both lay there in silence, scrolling through socials and updating the boys on how the dance was.

“oh my god,” you sigh.

“what?” jeongin says, trying to catch a peak of whatever you’re looking at on your phone.

“my friend abby, you know the one in the red dress you meant, just texted us that she’s getting laid tonight.”

“what?” jeongin exclaimed, “she seemed so sweet and innocent.”

“she is!” you laugh. “we all had placed bets on when we’d lose our virginities in, like, middle school, they all said i would be first. but now i guess i’m last.”

“its not a race,” jeongin says.

“i know, i know.” you pout. “but i’m sick of all the boys teasing me for it all the time!”

“they tease me about it too!” he says, sitting up on one of his elbows, turning to face you.

being the youngest two members meant you and jeongin got teased about not doing ‘adult things’ a lot. like neither of you were able to drive, neither ever bought a lottery ticket, or neither had ever had sex.

“what if we did it?”

“what?” you’re in shock, you feel like you can’t move. you had never thought about jeongin like that. you both had agreed that going to prom together was completely platonic, even though he made the sign, you wore matching colors, and you guys exchanged corsages and boutonnieres.

“i’m just thinking like, if we did it, neither of us would be virgins and they would stop teasing us for it.”

jeongin notices your shocked impression and quickly begins to apologize.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that, i was just saying that-”

“they would tease us for doing it with each other,” you say, turning your phone off and placing it on your nightstand.

you look over at jeongin and now he looks confused. “although,” you wonder aloud. “we wouldn’t have to tell them, we could just say we aren’t next time they bring it up. lie about who we did it with.”

“how?” jeongin asks.

“i dunno, say i reconnected with someone back here, and then you could say you met someone at the company and it was a fling.”

“they wouldn’t believe that, i don't have the ability to flirt with people like that,” jeongin laughs awkwardly.

the air feels tense. you and jeongin are sat in silence, both staring at each other looking for some sort of answer. jeongin scoots closer to you. you again can smell the smirnoff on his breath. he slowly reaches one of his hands up and places it on your cheek, gently caressing your soft cheek.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, almost at a whisper.

“yeah,” you whisper back.

his lips met yours and it feels like fireworks are going off in your brain. his lips are so soft and move perfectly in sync with yours. he moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. you move one of your hands up his torso, stopping at where his chest and neck met, you can feel the warmth of his skin on your hand and it feels like you both should’ve done this a long time ago.

he slowly assists you onto your back and he lays on top of you, his legs slotted between yours. he keeps one hand on the back of your hand and uses the other to grip onto your thigh and pull it up to wrap around his middle. his gentle ministrations send butterflies down to your core and you mindlessly move both of your hands to his hips and pull his body closer to yours.

you both uncontrollably moan at the sensation of your clothed centers coming in contact with each other. the kiss becomes more messy as jeongin slips his warm tongue into your mouth and you both unconsciously grind onto each other.

jeongin is the first to pull away, a line of spit still connecting your mouths, and both of you out of breath. “jesus y/n,” he said breathlessly.

you giggle as you pull his hips closer to you once again. jeongin smashes his lips onto yours, more hungrily this time. he continues to grind his hips into your clothed core, the sensation driving you wild. he begins to kiss down your jaw and neck stopping at the collar of your shirt.

“can i take this off?” he whispers against your skin and his hand moves from your thigh to the hem of your shirt.

you nod and jeongin slowly starts to lift your shirt up your body, you sit up slightly so that he can fully lift it over your head.

“wow.”

“what?”

“you’re beautiful,” jeongin says as he leans back down to kiss at your now exposed chest. as he kisses down between your breasts and down your stomach you interlock your fingers with his dark, slightly wet hair. when he kisses the spot right above the waistband of your pants he looks back up at you.

“do you want me to…” he trails off.

“if you want to,” you reply, barely a whisper.

“yeah,” he says unsurely. “i don’t know how to.”

you laugh and he places his forehead on your stomach in embarrassment. “y/n don’t laugh at me.”

“i’m not laughing at you. you’re just cute.”

he looks back up at you. “are you kidding me?”

“i’ll tell you what to do, okay?” you reassure him.

you reach for his hands and put them at the waistband of your pajama pants. you assist him in pulling down your pants and panties in one swift motion. the feeling of the cool air in the bedroom on your core sends shivers down your spine. the whole scene hits you now and you realize what you’re about to do with your bandmate. you close your legs in embarrassment and jeongin looks up at you.

“hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks, holding your hand in his.

you nod slowly. “i’m just nervous, i guess. never done this before.”

“it’s okay, it's me, your best friend in the whole world, i’ll never think of you differently,” he says, squeezing your hand gently.

“you promise?”

“yeah, i do.” he smiles at you, the cute smile you love to see plastered on his face. where his dimples come out and his cheeks are round and you just want to grab him and kiss him all over his face. “so please, open your legs for me.”

you could never dream about your innocent jeongin saying those words to you, his words send a wave of arousal to your core. you very slowly part your legs for him and he stares at your core in awe.

“wow, y/n, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“please,” you whisper, begging for him to touch where you need him most.

“tell me if i’m doing anything wrong, m’kay?” he says, moving his face closer to your core.

he sticks his tongue out and gently swipes it across your clit. the feeling is sent through your whole body and you whimper out in response. jeongin takes that as a ‘go ahead’ and presses his tongue flat against your sensitive bud.

“m-more, please,” you whine, lacing your fingers into his hair again.

jeongin giggles and starts to flick his tongue back and forth on your clit. he lays one of his arms across your stomach to support himself and uses his other hand to part your lips for him. he moves off your clit and gently runs his tongue over your sopping wet hole. you moan in response loudly before slapping one of your hands over your mouth.

jeongin looks up at you. “shh, you don’t want to wake your friends, do you?” he teases.

your mind had been so overwhelmed with the idea of having sex with jeongin that you forgot that all your friends were still in your house from the party. next door was your brother's room in which your brother and two of his friends were sleeping in.

you shake your head but keep your hand over your mouth and jeongin gets back to work. he teasingly pokes his tongue in and out of your hole and you moan out in pleasure again, this time it's muffled by your hand. jeongin moves his tongue back up to your clit and swirls the sensitive muscle in small circles. you tug at his hair with the hand you still have in his soft, black locks. jeongin groans in response and the sound sends shivers down your spine.

“m-more please,” you whine. “your-your fingers.”

jeongin quickly listens to your pleas and slides his index finger into your entrance. you whimper in response and without realizing it, you’re grinding down onto his mouth and fingers. jeongin begins to work his tongue and fingers swiftly at your core, flicking small circles on your clit and slowly fucking your hole with his finger. before long, he adds a second finger and curls them both until he finds the spot that has your back arching off the bed.

he begins working more vigorously, wanting nothing more than for you to finish on his fingers and tongue. he begins to rotate from gentle flicks at your clit to sucking on the bud gently. he adds a third finger and you begin to feel the knot form in your stomach. you’ve never felt like this before, only ever finishing by yourself, the feeling of someone else being in control of it has you seeing stars. as jeongin goes back to swirling small circles on your clit, you feel yourself leaking onto your bedsheets and that your orgasm is going to spill over.

“i’m gonna cum, jeongin please, please,” you whine at a whisper. jeongin doesn’t break his pace and soon you’re biting down on your hand, your eyes rolls back into your head, and you're pulling at jeongin’s hair like your life depends on it. he continues to work you through your orgasm, the sounds of your squelching cunt make jeongin moan.

“jeongin, jeongin,” you exclaim and you push his head away from your core just as he starts to overstimulate you.

he looks up and you see your arousal shine all over his face. he pulls his fingers from your hole and sticks them in his mouth, making a show of swirling his tongue around them to clean them off. he starts to crawl back up to be face to face with you and you find your hands moving to the waistband of his pajama pants and slowly starting to pull them down.

“y/n do you have a condom?” jeongin asks before you can free him completely.

“no,” you answer.

“then we don’t have to it’s-”

“its okay, i’m on the pill.”

“what?” jeongin looks dumbfounded, like you just asked him to hand over his firstborn child.

“i’m serious, it’s okay, i’m on the pill.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i am so sure. i’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. jeongin please, i need you.”

jeongin could’ve came on the spot. he quickly pulls his pants down and throws them off the bed. you look down to his red and leaking member, begging to be touched.

“holy shit.”

“what?” jeongin exclaims, worry painting his face.

“you’re huge,” you say before you can filter yourself.

jeongin laughs. “i am not.”

“you are not going to fit,” you laugh, grabbing his hips to pull closer to yours.

his solid cock brushes your entrance and jeongin lets out a whimper-like noise. you gently grab his cock with one of your hands to guide him to your begging core. he’s staring at you, eyes wide, looks like tears could boil over at any second. the feeling of his tip at your hole makes both of you moan.

“jeongin, please fuck me.”

“jesus, y/n,” jeongin moans.

jeongin grabs the base of his cock and slowly pushes it inside of you. you grab at his shoulders, the stretch stinging in a pleasurable manner. you’re both staring at each other, eyes widening as he slowly pushes himself inside you. when he bottoms out, you’re both breathing heavy at the new sensation.

“you can move now,” you whisper after you have gotten used to the feeling.

“if i move, i’ll cum,” jeongin mumbles. you laugh, and jeongin moans.

“y/n don’t fucking laugh, it squeezes me,” jeongin whines.

you chuckle and grab jeongin’s hand. you guide him down to your clit, where he quickly understands and begins to rub small circles on it. you moan loudly, not caring about who hears you anymore. the feeling of jeongin playing with your clit and being so full as you seeing stars.

“jeongin, i need you to move please,” you whine.

he takes a deep breath and slowly slides himself in and out of your wet cunt, not stopping his ministrations on your bundle of nerves. the pleasure is overwhelming, you cover your mouth with your hand again and mumble for him to move faster. he begins to move faster and you can feel the knot forming again.

“fuck,” he moans softly. “you feel so good.”

you whimper in response. “jeongin, i’m gonna cum.”

“fuck,” he moans again, beginning to thrust faster. with each thrust you can feed the head of his cock hit your spot and your eyes roll back into your head. you dig your nails that are still on his shoulder into his skin. tears are beginning to form in your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“w-will you cum with me?” jeongin says, tears in his eyes and sweat dripping down his face.

you nod quickly and jeongin buries his face in your neck. you feel is cock twitch a couple times before he paints your walls with his release. you’re quick to follow and soon you’re both a moaning and weeping mess. both uncontrollably thrusting your hips into each other as you finish, leaking all over your bed sheets.

you both lay in silence for a minute, calming yourselves down and slowing your breathing. you’re gently running your fingers through his hair and his rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs. you’re the first to break the silence.

“are you okay?”

“i’m great, are you?”

“mhm, feel great.”

“yeah.”

“are you still hard?” you ask, realizing he hadn’t pulled out of you yet.

“maybe,” he chuckles. “wanna go again?”

i got way too carried away with this one hehe

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