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majestyeverlasting · 3 months ago

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𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

This piece contains 18+ content

pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader

summary After stumbling across Eddie’s intimate drawings of you, you’re left reeling, but what unfolds that night is less about the pictures and more about the trust and closeness they force to the surface. [contains fluff, artsy eddie who's a little rough around the edges, nude drawings, smut | wc 5.8k]

a/n based on this request by the lovely @valinherfantasyworld

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Under the hum of fluorescent lights, you stand waiting as a small fan rotates to blow air your way. The gas pumps outside had been empty, but the open sign held enough promise for you to mosey on in. With a sigh, you reach out to hit the top of the dainty silver call bell for the second time. The checkout counter is dotted with planetary and extra-terrestrial figurines. Old, peeling stickers are stuck to the wood as well.

It isn’t lost on you that you could bypass paying for the trail mix and jerky and walk out the door. The intrusive thought comes just as Nelson bursts from the break room with his famously grizzled beard. His shoes squeak against the sticky floor as he hobbles to his place behind the counter with considerable reliance on his scuffed, wooden cane. When he sits on the stool, air expels from the cushion in a low, high-pitched whine.

“My apologies,” he tilts his head to look at you from over the top of his chunky glasses. The prescription is so high that it makes his hazel eyes look larger than they are.

You shake your head in dismissal as you push Wayne’s snacks towards him with a polite smile. He punches the prices into the cash register with practiced ease. His fingers move quickly and precisely like a starved bird pecking the ground for food.

“No help today?” you ask.

Nelson puffs an exasperated breath. “That Henderson kid’s supposed to be here,” he says. “Runnin’ late ‘cause of math club.”

You hum, trying not to smile when he mutters something about priorities and the youth these days.

“Need a bag?” He puts the snacks in one before you can answer. “Say, aren’t you dating the Munson boy?”

“Only for the past six months,” you lightheartedly quip.

Nelson seldom asked a question he didn’t know the answer to. Everybody in Hawkins shopped at Boone’s Quick Mart, whether they wanted to or not. Convenience trumps luxury any day, and there’s nothing quite like Southern hospitality wrapped in a Midwestern package.

As a pillar in the community for the past thirty years, Nelson Boone knows who’s who and what’s what—Tina Johnson’s divorce from her wandering-eyed husband, Jaden Rockwell’s C+ on his report card, the McNulty family’s move to Boise. This is a man who sees and hears all.

He meets your gaze with his googly eyes. “So you heard about what happened to him last night?”

A small stone of worry drops into your gut. “Something happened?”

Nelson looks at you from over his glasses again, a thrilled smirk playing on his lips. “Something? Hell, I reckon he saved my ass from getting killed.”

The spark of excitement that curls in his tone reminds you of his tendency to stretch the truth just enough to make eyes widen and jaws drop a little faster. You bar yourself against the bait in hopes he’ll be more stripped and forthcoming. It works, if the way his shoulders relax is any clue.

“Guy from outta town comes in all big and bad, demanding I empty the register,” he starts. “Meanwhile, Munson’s in the back near the pop. All I’m thinking at this point is, I should’ve gone ahead and made those revisions to my will like I was planning to—”

“What did Eddie do?” you cut in.

Nelson clears his throat. “Long story short, the guy whips out some kind of folding knife, they scuffle for a bit, then Munson knocks the rest of buddy’s screws loose.”

“What?” Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead.

“Scout’s honor,” Nelson says, holding up three fingers. “He didn’t mention it?”

You blink a few quick times as worry swirls within you. “Haven’t seen him in a few days.”

Nelson shifts on the stool and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a meaty finger. “Well, that kid’s got the biggest pair in all of Hawkins, I tell you what.” He laughs a quick bark of a sound that sends him into a brief coughing fit. “Imagine that, though. Me dying in ‘88, the year of our Lord.”

“Imagine that,” you murmur.

You place the money on the counter with buzzing fingers and blood rushing in your ears.

•••

Wayne’s truck is the only vehicle parked out front when you arrive at the trailer. The grass is greener, and the small flower bed Eddie helped you plant is vibrant and thriving. Before Spring settled, you’d told both Munsons that nurturing their slice of Hawkins could give them something to feel proud of. They’d taken it to heart.

Though neither would ever admit it to your face, you’d come into their life and transformed it from grayscale to technicolor.

As a breeze rustles through the surrounding trees, the early evening sun ventures closer towards the horizon.

When the front door pushes open with a dull creak, Wayne looks up from where he’s wiping crumbs off the small kitchen table nestled beside the window. He’s in jeans and an old tee that’s loose around the collar. A smile pulls at his lips as you pad inside.

“Thought that was you,” he says. “What’s this?” Wayne peeks into the bag as you set it on the table.

“Special delivery.”

“Told ya you ain’t gotta go outta your way for me like this.” He shakes his head with a sigh, but you know he’s grateful.

“Saves you an extra stop before work, right?” You gently nudge his shoulder.

“Thanks, darlin.’” After walking the towel back over to the sink, he catches the hint of concern in your eyes as you linger near the table.

“Everything alright?”

You open your mouth a couple of times. “Is Eddie okay?”

Wayne’s gray eyebrows furrow. “Yeah. I mean, he’s Eddie.” He chuckles. “You just missed him. Called about five minutes ago and said something about getting off a little later than usual.”

You frown. “So that’s why he hasn’t made it in.”

Wayne hums a sound of confirmation. “Said he could meet you at Benny’s at six, though,” he says. “Also mentioned something about the lake. Asked you to bring his camera.”

At the very least, the man’s words assure you that the events of last night hadn’t been as bad as you made them out to be in your mind.

•••

The next hour passes with a slow, Hawkins kind of ease. When you push into Eddie’s bedroom in search of his camera, the air smells like him: pinewood with a faint, smokey undertone. All things considered, the space is tidier than it’s been over the past couple of weeks.

The open surfaces are no longer strewn with random receipts and wrappers. All his fantasy figurines are organized with a greater sense of intentionality. Even the Iron Maiden poster, whose corner once slouched off the wall, has now been readhered.

Leave it up to Eddie to make order out of chaos again and again.

You locate the Nikon on his dresser in seconds. The frame counter rests a few notches before 1, and after a brief pause of debate, you pop the film door open to see if there’s any film inside. Relief washes over you when you realize the chamber is empty, and you haven’t just exposed a brand-new roll to the light. In search of a fresh canister, you squat at his nightstand and pull open the top drawer. Nothing. Mainly guitar accessories: picks, sheets of music, old bridge pins—along with a couple of stray condoms.

You move to the drawer beneath it, where journals, sketchbooks, and art supply pouches. However, a small cylindrical container tucked in the back corner catches your attention. The top of your hand pinches against the drawer when you attempt to reach the new roll of film without disturbing the other contents. That’s when you make the executive decision to pull out the first couple of sketchbooks.

In doing so, three pictures slip out: you on a park bench smiling, you sitting on his bed attempting to play his guitar, you taking too big of a bite off an ice cream cone.

A smile buds on your face as you flip the sketchbook open to tuck the photos back inside. Time stops. On the page is a beautiful portrait of you. It's not a mere sketch; this is much too involved. You were under the impression that he only ever drew the characters for his campaigns this intricately—dragons, celestials, faye.

As far as you knew, your likeness was only ever confined to his quicker sketches because you were always around. It was easy to capture you in the moment with no pressure. Can’t replicate perfection, sweetheart.

It isn’t until you’ve turned a few pages ahead that a different type of surprise prickles through you. Blooming and warm like the beginning of spring, but with a more rogue intensity. One that feels borderline forbidden because this next drawing itself ought to have remained tucked away in a secret place.

Your lips aren’t wrapped around ice cream but Eddie’s index and middle fingers. A line of saliva runs down your chin as your eyes sparkle.

You flip to the next drawing. In this one, you’re topless and kneeling, legs spread in an unabashed V. One of your hands plays between your thighs as you look up through your lashes. It’s drawn from memory, no doubt. Eddie had yet to capture you on film in such a vulnerable light.

Another page. Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your neck. You recognize the skeleton tattoo that constitutes the back of his right hand to give the illusion that his bones are bared.

Another. Your backside is drawn from the perspective of whoever stands behind you. There’s an abstractness to it, in a way. The shading suggests slight irritation or bruising from impact against your delicate skin.

The last drawing you gleam features you lying face down with your bottom up, wrists tied with rope. Indents on your skin suggest that you’ve tried to pull free—

Something flips low in your gut. White noise fills your ears as you snap the sketchbook closed and put it back where it belongs. You move on autopilot as you toss Eddie’s camera and film into your tote bag and scramble out of his room.

•••

The water is calm as it laps at the bank of the lake. Gnats flutter around while tree leaves rustle. On a summer evening such as this, Lover’s Lake is a wonder. Above, the sky stretches like the handiwork of a master artist. Blue fades to burnt orange to rustic lavender in a seamless ombre. Your eyes remain on the water below as you kick your feet off the edge of the dock.

Eddie nudges your knee with his after a while. The upper portion of his coveralls is tied around his waist, exposing his white T-shirt and lean tattooed arms. The sleeve on his right arm is fuller and extends all the way to his hand.

Despite the intricate designs inked across his skin, you can make out the thin, red scratches on his forearms and the few cuts that pepper his knuckles. None of them override the dark ink of his tattoos, but you can see them since you’re sitting so close. The ones on his neck are visible all the more because they have little to camouflage with. Some are old, but most of them are undeniably fresher. You’ve been cataloguing them all evening.

You peer over at him with a pensive smile. His camera rests on the opposite side of him. He’d captured a few shots of you and the scenery when there was a little more light.

“You’re quiet,” he says.

“Just enjoying the view.”

Eddie briefly wrinkles his nose and looks out at the lake. Touché.

The silence returns, but Eddie can’t settle into it for the life of him. He shifts, one knee propping up. “You gotta give me something to work with here.” He tries to meet your adverted gaze. “Did I say something to piss you off?”

All you can do is manage a swallow. There were enough distractions to carry you through dinner at Benny’s, but the world seems much smaller and stripped out here. No music, chatter, or waitress checking in to refill your drinks. It’s just you, Eddie, and the unmatched stillness of nature. All of which are fertile ground for your thoughts to wander and unavoidably return to the fact he hadn’t said a word about what happened at Boone’s—or the contents of his sketchbook. Especially now that he won’t look away from you.

Worry intensifies Eddie’s gaze. The same gaze that you now know has studied and considered you more intimately than you ever imagined. You can’t help but feel bare and exposed now. It was yet another brick to lay on top of the fact that he’d refrained from telling you about the events at Quick Mart.

You finally look over at him.

“Please talk to me,” he says.

You take his larger hand in yours. He remains quiet, hopeful. You study his palm, then turn it over to assess the back of his hand, the cuts just barely visible over the skeleton tattoo covering it. You wish he could be a fraction as open and forthcoming as the illusion his tattoo presents.

“Did something happen last night?” you ask.

A defensive edge slips into his voice. “What do you mean?”

“At Quick Mart,” you say.

In the time that Eddie combs through his mind in search of the right approach, you say it yourself, “You were in a fight.” It’s not fair to state it so clinically, but you do it anyway.

Eddie looks more betrayed than surprised. “No, I wasn’t,” he says. “Not like that.”

You feel a pang of guilt over the earnest way he expresses it, like a kid trying to prove their innocence.

Over the years, he’d gotten better about his temper. About how quick he was to handle certain situations with the scrappier instincts of his youth. He knew now, more than ever, that words alone could get him much further than his fists. Throughout the latter half of his overstayed run in the public school system, he’d been forced to prove himself physically time after time, so he had no choice but to get good at it. Sometimes, he jumped the gun, but that wasn’t him. Not anymore.

“It wasn’t over nothing,” he explains. “Asshole was trying to—”

“I know, Teddy,” you’re quick to assure, voice soft. “Wasn’t pointing fingers. I’m just glad everybody’s okay.” You squeeze his hand.

His gaze flickers down. “Sorry,” he murmurs, exhaling. He speaks up after a while. “Was it Nelson who told you?”

The thought of Nelson—endearing, googly-eyed Nelson—makes your lips twitch upwards. Eddie almost doesn’t believe it, but he’s grateful. A fraction of the tension melts from his shoulders as levity creeps in. He presses closer to feel the shake of your shoulders as you chuckle despite yourself. If you don’t laugh, you’ll mess around and find a reason to cry.

Your amusement eventually subsides into something stiller. “Wish it’d been you, though.”

Eddie takes the blow. “Swear I was gonna tell you.” He dips his head to kiss the bulb of your shoulder. “Just wanted to give everything some breathing room. Didn’t want you to get all worked up and worried. Hate making you worry.”

“Forget worry,” you say lightly. “If something involves you, I’ll always wanna know. I care about you.” Those words stir a gratefulness in his chest. “I want you to tell me things even when they’re scary or hard.”

Eddie sees the sincerity in your gaze. A hint of confliction seems to reside there as well.

“No more secrets,” he promises.

He holds out his pinkie, and just when he thinks you’re going to ignore it, you hook yours around his. It’s no surprise that he squeezes. As playful as he is, you should’ve seen it coming. You yelp and attempt to pull your hand away, but he leans in to steal a kiss that you allow him to take. A satisfied smile lingers on his face afterward.

With a proud sigh, he lays back on the wooden planks of the dock, hair splaying like mane. With your eyes you map the faint freckles on his face when he closes his eyes, then trace his eyebrows, the slope of his nose, the relaxed pout of his lips.

Eddie’s eyes soon flutter open to meet yours.

He offers a smile. “Hmm?”

You shrug, chuckling in a mix of nerves and relief. “Just thinking of something Nelson said about you,” you say. “‘That kid’s got the biggest pair in all of Hawkins.’”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of him that makes his eyes crinkle and his chest shake. You join in. When the moment settles into something tamer but still a bit charged, Eddie holds your gaze as he reaches down between his legs to rest a hand over his crotch.

“You’ve seen ‘em first hand,” he drawls, palming himself through the fabric of his coveralls. “Whaddya think?”

Heat floods your cheeks, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of leaving you speechless. “Jury’s still out.”

Another laugh rumbles through him and ends with a snort. His eyes shimmer when he calms down. You’re there to twirl your finger around one of his curls and give it an affectionate tug.

A gentle breeze rolls through and makes a part of you wish it could carry the memory of his drawings away with it. At least so you could settle into the serenity of the moment in an unadulterated way. Those thoughts don’t leave you, however. His face alone is a reminder of his secret envisionings of you.

•••

Later that night, in the dim lamplight of Eddie’s room, you lie face up on his bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. It’s as if the act will still your nerves, but it doesn’t.

Eddie emerges from the bathroom whistling, a gray towel wrapped around his slender waist. You loll your head to look at him just long enough to catalogue his damp curls, his myriad of tattoos, the light dusting of hair between his pecs, and the even darker trail that descends from his belly button. His back turns to you as he saunters to his dresser. There’s a dagger tattooed between his shoulder blades.

“Miss me?” he asks as he digs pajamas out of his drawer.

When you don’t respond, he peeks over his shoulder. Your gaze is directed towards the ceiling.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

He hums. Your silence takes root beneath his skin and yields a certain self-consciousness. It wasn’t like you to be so disengaged. Not when it came to him. There was no denying his magnetism, even when he wasn’t actively trying to work the room.

“Okay, what’s really going on?” Eddie walks to the side of the bed and stares down at you. “You’ve been acting funny all evening.”

You push yourself upright, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. To buy yourself some time, you rub your eyes with your fists as if tiredness truly is to blame. There’s nowhere to hide when your hands inevitably drop back down to rest in your lap. Still, Eddie fails to get a read.

“Talk to me, Goose.” He taps your chin with a gentle knuckle. “Is that gas station shit really bothering you that bad?” Eddie winces at his own irritation. “That came out wrong. Shit.”

He takes a deep breath. “I honestly didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The guy had what was coming to him.”

“I care about you, is all,” you say. “Am I allowed to do that?”

His eyes are apologetic as he looks down at you. “You’re allowed.”

“No more secrets, right?” you say. “That’s what you promised.”

Eddie nods slowly, unsure of where this conversation is headed.

“That means we let each other in,” you continue.

“You’re in, baby.”

You bite your lower lip.

“I saw something earlier. Drawings of me that you’ve done.”

“I sketch you all the time.”

A few seconds pass before you bring yourself to speak again. “Not the sketches. The actual drawings. The detailed ones.”

Eddie stills as if turned to alabaster. He looks away from you, but you don’t look away from him as silence permeates the air like a slow rising fog. Color rises in his cheeks, then the tips of his ears. If he doesn’t move, maybe he’ll wake up. Maybe he’ll disappear. A few seconds pass like an hour. The world begins turning again when you take his hand in yours, gently brushing over the back with your thumb.

Reality fades back in slowly. His breaths, your breaths, his thick swallow.

“They caught me off guard,” you admit.

Like a severed branch, his hand falls away from yours. His Adam’s apple bobs as he considers what to say in the wake of embarrassment that toes the line of frustration.

Eddie’s eyes find their way back to yours. “We’re going through each other’s things now?”

“I was looking for film for your camera,” you explain. “Pictures fell out of the sketchbook, and when I went to put them back—”

“They don’t mean anything.” His words are void of any conviction.

You hold his gaze until his shoulders sag with the weight of the truth. “I’ve never had this, alright?” He makes a weak motion between the two of you. “Someone who makes me feel the way you do.”

You nod for him to continue.

“I think about you all the fucking time.” His voice comes out shy and gruff. “You’re beautiful.”

“So they do mean something.”

“But now you probably just think they’re perverted when it’s not like that at all,” he accuses with a slight waver in his voice. You’ve never seen him quite like this. Frazzled in a raw, open way. “It’s the trust aspect—fuck, I’m not making any sense.”

He runs his hands through his hair and paces a few steps away. You study the tattoos on his torso. Audentes Fortuna Iuvat is scripted just beneath his collarbones with a slight upwards curve; Latin for fortune favors the bold. A symmetrical, abstract pair of angel wings span beneath it. There’s also the small inverted crucifix on his sternum. The snake curled on the right side of his ribcage beneath his pecs. A considerable host of others have made a canvas out of his skin as well.

“So help me understand,” you insist.

You’re messing with him now. You have to be. This is his punishment for ever daring to put his pencil to the paper in that way. A few beats of silence pass.

“Are those things you wanna try?” you coax.

He finally musters the courage to look at you again. “There’s so much I wanna try with you.” There’s a weighted look in his gaze, like the sentiments it bears stretch beyond this moment. “I wanna do life with you.”

Warmth kindles in your chest at his words. “Well, here I am,” you say. “Gonna have to try harder to scare me away.”

A humorless laugh escapes him, but it’s true. Here you are.

“None of this was ever about the fight or the drawings, E,” you start. “It’s about you. I don’t want you to think you have to keep things from me.”

You nearly fall into the depths of his eyes as they bore into yours.

“I can’t mess this up too.” His voice comes out smaller than you’ve heard it. He wouldn’t make it to the other side of losing you.

“It’s gonna take something terrible for that.” You think for a moment. “Like you cutting off all that gorgeous hair.”

Eddie laughs. The sound coaxes you to your feet and over to him, where he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. His breath catches in his throat when he feels your fingertips ghost along his waistline where the towel is secured.

•••

Just relax.

Those were the words you’d uttered to him a few short moments ago before you tugged his towel down and stripped yourself of your clothes. If anything, it was more like a purr. Something about that low, melodic tone always worked with him. Even when he was the one desperate to get his mouth and hands on you. He listened because you always handled him with care. Always made it good for him.

The sound that leaves him now seems broken, but Eddie’s never felt more whole. His arms shake where they’re braced behind him on the bed, and his spread thighs tremble. You look up at him from your kneeling position on the carpet before him without pulling away from mouthing at the warm, velvety weight between his thighs that hang like two joint fruits. They draw up when you pay keen attention to one side, making a suctioning motion with your mouth that makes him curse beneath his breath.

He curls forward with a pleasured groan when you take the entirety of his length into your mouth. The sweet drag of your lips, paired with the encompassing warmth, makes his head spin. You venture down halfway before drawing back up to suckle on the tip with a glimmer in your eyes. Eddie doesn’t get through his next shudder before your lips are descending again, this time all the way to where curly dark hair rests at his base.

You can feel every vein and pulse along the way. His stomach quivers at the sight as something hot stirs low in his gut.

One of his hands settles at the back of your head, but he doesn’t push or pull. It’s a grounding gesture. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you pull back up, taking your time. At the top, you lap over his slit, where another pearly bead has formed. He huffs out a ragged breath when you begin to place lingering kisses over the head, then allow your tongue to gently trace along the slightly raised edge that separates it from the rest of his shaft.

A selfish part of him wants more.

“Angel…” he sighs.

You hum around him curiously when he’s back in your mouth. Eddie knows you’re trying to make him cave and guide you into what he wants. His fingers twitch with hesitance at first, but then he applies just enough pressure to encourage you back down. You’re gracious enough to fall into your own bobbing rhythm thereafter.

His breath stutters when one of your hands dip between your thighs to begin rubbing easy circles over your bud as your mouth continues to work him like a dream. You clench around nothing as warmth and pleasure pool between your thighs.

“That’s so hot,” he grouses.

You pull off of him, saliva slinking between your lips and his arousal. “Is it?” you murmur coyly.

He nods earnestly, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. What he’s not expecting is for you to sit back on your knees and redirect all your attention to yourself, bringing one hand up to cup your breast. Your cheeks warm at your own boldness. He’d seen you like this in his mind and on the page, but only you could bring the vision to life. There’s a pleasant rush to that sort of power.

He kicks up towards his stomach when you release an airy hum as your middle finger drifts down to run along your entrance and collect the thick moisture gathered there. He scoots closer to the nightstand and grabs a condom from the drawer. Eddie strokes himself a few careful times, stopping before the tide can rise. You watch with shining eyes as he rips the foil open and slides the rubber down himself.

“C’mere,” he rasps, repositioning fully onto the bed. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You bite your lip as you gently probe your entrance, maintaining eye contact even as your face burns. “Think you do it better?”

“You already know the answer.” There’s no overt cockiness in his tone. Just a steady sort of confidence that makes your stomach flutter.

An invisible flip switches. No doubt, because he finally feels as though it’s allowed to. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but you feel the aftermath. It’s in the way he becomes firmer; he isn’t rough, but you can feel the strength behind his movements more than you usually do. It’s also in the way he lifts his head from your center when you’re mere seconds away from falling into thralls of something your entire body craves.

You plead with your eyes as you meet his gaze, frustrated and desperate all the same. His lips upturn in a small smile that’s barely there. Your thighs fall open as he leans back down, and the fan of his breath makes you shiver. His mouth and fingers have already made you slick with arousal, only to leave you right on the edge.

“Eddie, please.”

He gently parts you open and presses a gentle kiss to your clit before suckling it into his mouth. You whimper and cant your hips upwards into his face, but he moves away.

“Easy,” he coos.

You breathe an apology as he presses his middle finger to your swollen bud and circles it nice and slow. A whimper escapes you as you squirm, trying your best to keep your hips down. As maddening as it is, you like this little game. The challenge. If he maintains this same pressure and speeds up just so, you know it’d be enough to get you there. He knows that too.

Everything hinges on his call. Eddie’s been at the helm even though he let you think you were for a time.

“Who does it better?” he asks.

Your stomach flips. “You, Eddie—c’mon.” You huff an exasperated chuckle in spite of yourself. Eddie bites back a smile. Then your voice dips into a tone that’s impossibly sweet. It reminds him just how much he burns with desire himself. “Keep showing me how much better.”

Eddie braces himself overtop of you and notches at your slick warmth. It takes a moment for him to gather himself, but when he does, he slips into you with ease. Each inch is welcomed with the same steady pressure, all the way until he’s buried entirely.

While you hum at the fullness, he moans from being welcomed in so wholly. Even though you’re the one stretched to accommodate him, it’s him who needs a moment to get acclimated. It feels like he’s seconds away from falling apart, and he sure as hell isn’t ready to test the theory.

When you circle your hips in a silent encouragement for him to move, he stills you with a steady hand. You make another attempt.

“Angel, wait,” he weakly complains. It’s half desperate, half amused.

“But I need you,” you murmur.

That’s enough to spur him into an easy rhythm. Your mouth falls open, and he can’t help but run his thumb over your bottom lip. You surprise yourself when you poke your tongue out. Eddie takes a leap of faith and pushes it just past your lips. You close your mouth around it and give it a weak suck before he pulls it back out.

As it turns out, life imitates art too.

“You feel so good,” Eddie pants. “Taking me so well, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

His thrusts reach deeper when you hook your legs around him, eyes briefly scrunching closed as he meets that tender spot within you that threatens to make everything wound tight inside of you unravel.

Your hands move to scratch down his back, and his hips stutter at the steady pressure of your nails. So you do it again, a little harder, and it sends a strong shiver through him that feels unfairly good. When your hands smooth back around to his chest, fingers grazing his nipples, he manages to gather your wrists in his hands and pin them above your head. Your chest pushes into his.

“I’m close,” you breathe. “So full.”

A groan rises in his throat. “Not until I say, alright?”

Your whine borders on petulant, but you nod anyway. Eddie kisses you for it. First, on your lips, then he trails a few more sloppy, lazy kisses down your chin. When he pulls away, he lets go of your wrists and braces that forearm beside your head, breaths heavy. He’s so close, you can see the faint sun freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose. The grind of his pelvis against your clit makes you clench around him.

Your breath hitches. “I’m gonna—”

“Not yet, angel,” he says, even as he lowers a hand between your bodies to rub that pulsing part of you with just the right amount of pressure as he continues his deep thrusts. It’s the furthest thing from fair, and he knows it.

Your mind grows fuzzy with a sudden swell of pleasure that borders on panic. “Eddie, baby, I can’t,” you whimper. “You’re gonna make me come. Please—”

“Go on, angel,” he soothes. The wave crashes. “That’s it, there you go.”

You close your mouth to stifle the helpless sound that rises up your throat as you arch beneath him. Immediately, you’re thrown into a suspended place where all you can feel is yourself fluttering around him in strong pulses as warmth floods your entire being, pulling him in. He guides you through it with gentle praises that barely register to your ears.

With a guttural sound Eddie buries himself within your warmth and lets go, his abdomen flexing with each wave that shoots through him. As the radiating pleasure dwindles, he touches his forehead to yours, and your lips just barely brush as you catch your breaths. You raise your hands to his neck to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers, then jolts with sensitivity as you shift beneath him.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

Eddie shakes his head. “You’re fine,” he breathes. “You’re perfect. Don’t deserve you.”

“You’re gonna give me a complex,” you murmur.

Eddie chuckles and grasps the base of himself to slowly pull out. The loss draws shuddering exhales out of both of you. He’s overcome by a surge of fondness and gratitude.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod as he dots a few kisses to your neck. “Hey, Eddie.” You cup his cheek to get his attention and he nearly melts at the content way you look up at him with slow, sleepy blinks. “Maybe next time you can tie me up.” A small smile plays on your lips, but you mean it. Even though the thought alone gives you wild butterflies.

Eddie’s swallow doesn’t let on how dizzy the thought makes him. “Yeah?”

You offer a tired hum. “I trust you.” That alone means everything.

And with him, you wanted it all.

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!

EDDIE MASTERLIST

ALL MASTERLISTS

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn

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moluvies · 1 month ago

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in your orbit ꔛ armin arlert x reader

a/n: made the banner in 2 seconds on picsart myb 🫡👍 i usually dont fw the modern/college au for aot but nerdmin has so much potential :3 read part two here !!

words: 5.9k

cw: nerd!armin, college au, she/her pronouns and fem anatomy for reader, somewhat inexperienced armin #idk, armin is actually a nice person in this au, frat boy eren makes an appearance (obvi), armin gets drunk, reader gets drunk, SMUT!!, so drunk sex, mutual attraction, blowjobs, p in v sex, doggystyle, dirty talk, he whines and whimpers 😦‼️, MDNI !!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

The rec center was lively, as it usually was this time of day. You checked your phone to look at the time—3:56 P.M. Would it be weird to go in 4 minutes early? You wondered to yourself, anxiety getting the best of you. Especially when you couldn't hear even the smallest sound come from the small study room, though you told yourself maybe it was a soundproof design.

Armin Arlert, one of your classmates and now a member of the group project you had been assigned, was the one to set this meeting up. The group project from your astronomy class was a semester-long task, given to you during syllabus week and not to be turned in until finals. Half of the semester had passed and you hadn't even really met the rest of your group members—aside from Armin.

The two of you hadn't really talked, though. You followed each other on Instagram now and you sat at the same table as him in class (along with a few other people you didn't really know). Aside from that, the guy was practically a stranger to you. But you couldn't deny how you admired him. He always raised his hand in class, never sounding too full of himself or annoying like other people typically sounded to you in lecture. He was also helpful if you ever had a question, especially because you hated going to office hours with professors you hardly knew.

Armin had texted the group chat he made with all the group members a week ago asking if everyone had availability that Friday. A couple people said yes while others just put a thumbs up emoji to react to his message. He didn't mind if they didn't show to the first meeting, really. It was individually graded and if they didn't have availability to meet Friday they could have said so.

You took a deep breath, trying your best to compose yourself before you knocked once and then entered the tiny study room. It contained one table with 6 chairs around it, a TV you could connect your laptop to, and a trash can off in the corner.

And it also contained only one person—Armin.

"Hey," you greeted with a smile, shutting the door behind you and seating yourself down in a chair across from him.

"Hi, you made it," Armin smiled, looking up from his laptop as you entered. "I was just setting things up so we all have access to the slides, just in case anyone wants to make changes."

You nodded, putting your bag on the chair next to you and taking out your notebook and your own laptop. Armin turned his screen slightly so you could see the Google Slides presentation he'd already started.

“So,” he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “the project is basically split into three parts. We each pick a topic from the syllabus—we're focusing on one planetary system or celestial phenomenon—and then tie it back to a central question or theme. I thought we could go with, like… how different environments in space might support life? It leaves a lot of room for interpretation.”

“That actually sounds really cool,” you said, surprised by how easily the conversation was flowing. Armin was easy to talk to—calm, thoughtful, never pushing too hard. “I was kind of thinking about Europa. Like, that moon of Jupiter? There’s been speculation that it could have an ocean under the ice.”

Armin’s eyes lit up. “That would be perfect for your section. I was thinking of doing something about Titan, Saturn’s moon. We could compare how the chemical compositions of each moon might influence the potential for life—or even just how scientists are studying them.”

The hour passed quicker than you expected. Armin’s presence, though quiet, was reassuring. The two of you bounced ideas back and forth, shared articles, and even got a little distracted googling strange facts about different moons. At one point, Armin laughed quietly at a meme someone had edited into one of Titan's photos, and you felt your shoulders finally relax.

“No one else showing up kinda worked out,” you said as you started packing up your things.

“Yeah,” Armin replied, unplugging his laptop from the monitor. “Honestly, I don’t mind. We got a lot done. I’ll just post our outline in the chat and if they don’t contribute by the next meeting, I’ll talk to the professor. He said we could document that stuff.”

You both walked out into the early evening sunlight, your backpacks slung over your shoulders as the automatic doors of the rec center whooshed open.

As you and Armin stepped outside, the soft warmth of the sun casting long shadows on the pavement, he glanced over at you with a relaxed expression.

“Got any plans this weekend?” he asked, shifting his backpack on his shoulder.

You sighed, a little amused. “My friend’s been begging me to go to this frat party Saturday night. I haven't been to one since my first week of freshman year."

Armin raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at his lips. “At Delta Sig?”

You blinked in surprise. “Yeah. Are you in that frat?”

He laughed—soft, a little disbelieving. “God, no. Not even close. But my friend Eren is. Our friend Mikasa and I usually end up at those parties to keep him from doing something insane.”

You tilted your head curiously. “So… you do go sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” Armin admitted, his tone casual. “Delta Sig almost got shut down, actually. They had, like, a ton of hazing violations documented over the past decade. I tried convincing Eren not to rush, but he did anyway. Even after I showed him an article about it online.”

You laughed. “Wow. That makes me feel so great about possibly going.”

He smiled, nudging your arm lightly with his elbow. “If you do end up there, try to find me, alright?”

“Yeah?” you asked, a little surprised by the offer.

“I’m not a big drinker or anything,” Armin said with a small shrug, “but I’ll probably be hanging around Eren and Mikasa, keeping them out of trouble. If you go, say hi.”

You nodded, a little smile growing on your face and a flutter in your heart at the idea. “Okay. I will.”

ꔛ

"I look like an idiot," you whined, eyeing yourself in the mirror as you looked over your outfit. As a freshman, you might've worn something like this to these types of parties, but now you weren't sure anyone should wear this kind of outfit. The top was so low cut and the jeans were just simply not it, you weren't sure if you were going for slutty or casual.

"Come on, you look great," your friend, Hitch, said. Her dirty blonde hair was neatly styled and she wore an outfit combination similar to yours—tiny top with jeans.

"We look like we're matching," you replied, but with no malice. That could be cute, you thought.

"Ugh, you're right. Be right back."

You glared at the back of her head as she turned to presumably go get changed. Your hair looked nice, and so did your makeup. The outfit felt dumb but it wasn't terrible. So why did you feel like throwing up?

"Armin really said to come find you?" Hitch asked when she returned with a grin and different outfit, bringing up the conversation you had in her car when she picked you up. Hitch seemed to be a frequent partygoer to this specific frat, and had met Armin a few times at these functions. When you brought it up in the car, she confirmed that Armin hardly ever drank and mostly stayed near Eren and Mikasa.

"Yeah. He's really sweet, so I didn't expect him to even go to these," you replied honestly, applying more lip gloss. "It wasn't a surprise when he said he doesn't drink, though."

"I'm sure you guys will really hit it off then. You even turned down my 'getting ready shots'."

You rolled your eyes, and soon you were on your way, taking the short walk towards Greek row where the party was presumably already in full swing—Hitch insisting on being late so you two didn't look lame waiting for people to show up.

ꔛ

Armin was a mess.

He didn't know why, or how, but in the hours leading up to the party he convinced himself he was awkward and weird for telling you to come see him. He even went to Jean and Eren and begged for advice.

He had so much trouble reading you, but he knew you were kind. And pretty. What he didn't really know was—well, everything else. Did you drink? What kind of clothes would you wear? Would you care that he didn't like dancing?

None of the questions made sense, but neithed did anything in his mind. Why was he this stressed over a party? He was practically the babysitter when attending, and it's not like he personally invited you. He just said you should come see him. God, was that even more weird?

Somehow, some way, Jean and Eren convinced Armin to take some shots. Three shots, actually. To "ease his mind" and to "calm his nerves" apparently.

Now, there Armin was in the back of Eren's car, finding the way the streetlights passed the window and the bass of the music electrifying. Everything was warm and fuzzy, and he felt his head spin the entire drive.

ꔛ

The music hit you before anything else—thick, throbbing bass that vibrated through the concrete steps leading up to the frat house. Red cups were already scattered across the yard, and the dim porch light revealed clusters of people smoking and laughing.

"This is going to be fun," Hitch said, linking her arm through yours. "Come on, let's find your astronomy boy."

You felt heat rise to your face at the nickname. "He's not my—"

"Yeah, yeah," Hitch interrupted with a knowing smile.

As you squeezed your way through the packed living room, the scent of cheap beer and cologne made your nose scrunch. Bodies were pressed together everywhere, dancing and swaying to music that was way too loud for any actual conversation. You were starting to regret coming when Hitch suddenly squealed and pointed toward the kitchen.

"There he is! Armin's over there with Eren and Jean."

You followed her gaze, and sure enough, there was Armin—but not the Armin you expected. His normally neat blond hair was slightly mussed, cheeks flushed pink, and he was... laughing? Not the reserved, thoughtful chuckle you'd heard in the study room, but a full, uninhibited laugh that made his whole face light up.

"Is he..." you trailed off, not quite believing what you were seeing.

Hitch's eyes widened with delight. "Oh my god, I think he's drunk! This is amazing. I've literally never seen Armin anything but sober."

You made your way over to the kitchen, Hitch practically dragging you. Armin was leaning against the counter, talking animatedly with two guys you assumed were Eren and Jean. He was gesturing with his hands, something about... constellations? It was hard to hear over the music.

When he spotted you, his eyes widened almost comically.

"You came!" Armin said with such genuine excitement that it made your heart do a strange flip. He pushed himself off the counter—a bit unsteadily—and made his way over. "I wasn't sure if you would. But you did!"

"I said I would," you replied with a smile, surprised by how endearing his enthusiasm was.

"Hey, Armin," Hitch said, giving him a little wave. "Looking good tonight! Where's Marlowe at?"

"Marlowe? Oh! He's out back, I think. By the beer pong tables." Armin seemed to remember his friends then, turning back to the two guys watching with amused expressions. "Oh! This is (Y/N)," he said your name with such care it made your cheeks warm again. "She's in my astronomy group. We're doing Europa and Titan and life possibilities and it's really cool. And she's friends with Hitch."

The shorter of the two guys—brown hair, intense eyes—reached out a hand. "I'm Eren. This is Jean." He nodded toward a guy with an undercut and a smirk.

"Nice to meet you," you said, shaking hands with both of them.

"You're in Armin's class? Good luck with that. He's been talking about space for the past hour," Jean said, but there was affection in his voice.

Hitch was already scanning the room. "I'm going to find Marlowe. You good here?" she asked you.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured her, secretly relieved to have an out from being around her boyfriend. Marlowe was nice enough, but he was so serious it made conversations feel like job interviews.

"Don't wait up," she winked, then disappeared into the crowd.

Armin was staring at you with an expression of pure fascination. "Your hair looks really nice," he said, the filter between his thoughts and words clearly compromised. "Like—like starlight. Did you know some stars have different colors? Red giants, blue dwarfs—"

"You're such a nerd," Eren cut him off, but ruffled Armin's hair affectionately. "Even drunk you're giving astronomy lectures."

"How much did you drink?" you asked Armin, unable to keep the amusement from your voice.

"Three shots!" Armin held up only two fingers, then frowned and corrected himself. "Only three. They said it would help with nerves. I don't usually drink." He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice but still speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I feel weird. Like my brain is swimming."

Jean snorted. "Lightweight."

Eren reached into a nearby cooler and pulled out a beer, offering it to you. "Want one? Fair warning, I think we've corrupted your study buddy."

You hesitated. You weren't planning on drinking much tonight, but Armin was looking at you with such hopeful eyes.

"Please?" Armin said, swaying slightly. "I feel like an alien right now. Everyone's having fun and I'm just... vibrating on a different frequency."

The way he said it made you laugh. "Okay, fine. One beer. Maybe three, eventually."

Armin's face lit up again as you accepted the beer from Eren. You popped the tab and took a small sip, grimacing at the taste. Cheap beer was still cheap beer.

"Well, now that Armin's in good hands," Eren said with an exaggerated stretch, "Jean and I are gonna go find Mikasa. She texted that she just got here."

"Wait, you're leaving?" Armin asked, a flash of panic crossing his face.

"Relax, we'll be back," Jean said, already backing away. "Besides, you've got your project partner now."

Before Armin could protest further, they disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone with a slightly swaying Armin Arlert.

"They always do that," Armin said, leaning back against the counter for stability. "Leave me places."

"Looks like I'm on babysitting duty," you teased, taking another small sip of your beer.

"No, no," Armin protested, reaching out and nearly missing as he tried to touch your arm. "You should have fun too. Not just—just watch me being weird."

"Who says watching you being weird isn't fun?" you replied, finding yourself genuinely enjoying this uninhibited version of him.

Armin stared at you for a moment, then broke into a wide smile. "You're really nice, you know that? And smart. Your Europa idea was so good. I went home and read, like, three papers about it."

"After our meeting? I thought you said you were going to meet Eren and Mikasa."

"I did! But after. I couldn't stop thinking about the project. And..." he trailed off, that flush on his cheeks deepening.

"And what?" you prompted, suddenly curious.

Armin took a sip from his cup—soda, you noticed—and looked around at the party as if gathering courage. "And I was kind of hoping you'd come tonight. I don't know why. I just... wanted to see you outside of class."

Your heart did that strange flip again. "Well, here I am," you said softly, not sure what else to say.

"Here you are," Armin echoed, his eyes meeting yours with surprising clarity despite his intoxication. "Want to go somewhere quieter? I can't hear myself think in here, and I have so many thoughts right now."

You laughed, finding his honesty refreshing. "Lead the way."

Armin grinned and pushed himself off the counter, taking your hand with a boldness you suspected was alcohol-induced, pulling you through the crowded living room toward the staircase.

As you followed him, fingers intertwined with his, you found yourself thinking that this was definitely not how you expected your Friday night to go—but somehow, it was exactly what you needed.

Armin led you up the stairs, his hand still holding yours as you weaved through small clusters of people gathered on the steps. You were glad for his guidance—the house was a maze of narrow hallways, dimly lit and pulsing with the bass from downstairs. Finally, he stopped in front of a door and turned the handle, peeking in before ushering you inside.

"Jean's room," he explained, closing the door behind you both. The music instantly became muffled, a distant thumping rather than the overwhelming roar from downstairs.

The room was surprisingly clean for a frat house bedroom—minimal clutter, a neatly made bed, and even a small bookshelf in the corner. You glanced around, suddenly feeling like you were intruding.

"Should we be in here? I feel bad taking his room," you said, hovering awkwardly near the door.

Armin shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "He won't even need it until like 4 AM. Trust me. He's either going to be downstairs until everyone leaves or..." He trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Got it," you laughed, understanding the implication. You took another sip of your beer, feeling the pleasant warmth spreading through your limbs as you made your way to sit on the edge of the bed.

Armin joined you, leaving a respectful few inches between you. "Better, right? I can actually hear you now."

"Much better," you agreed, finding it easier to relax now that you weren't surrounded by sweaty strangers. "So... you really went home and read scientific papers after our meeting?"

His face lit up immediately. "Yeah! There was this one about the chemical composition of Europa's ocean and how it might compare to Earth's deep-sea hydrothermal vents. Did you know there are organisms on Earth that don't need sunlight at all? They just use chemical energy from the vents."

You watched him as he spoke, his hands gesturing enthusiastically, eyes bright with genuine passion. The alcohol had lowered his usual reserve, but it was still Armin—brilliant, thoughtful Armin—just with his thoughts flowing more freely. You found yourself drawn to this version of him, the slight flush on his cheeks and the way his hair fell across his forehead when he leaned forward.

"That's actually fascinating," you said, taking another long sip of your beer. You were starting to feel it now, that pleasant buzz that made everything seem warmer, more immediate. "So you think there could be something like that on Europa?"

"It's possible! That's what makes it so exciting," he said, shifting to face you more directly. "We're just beginning to understand how diverse life can be. The universe is so much stranger than we imagine."

You nodded, feeling a pleasant heaviness in your limbs as you leaned back on your elbows. "I need to catch up to your level of intoxication if we're going to have deep space conversations all night."

Armin laughed, the sound soft and genuine. "Trust me, you don't. I feel like my brain is both racing and moving through molasses at the same time."

"That actually sounds kind of nice right now," you admitted, finishing the last of your beer. The room had taken on a gentle, swaying quality, and you found yourself increasingly aware of how close Armin was sitting.

"Here," he said, reaching over to take your empty can and placing it on Jean's desk. As he moved, his shoulder brushed against yours, and you felt a small jolt at the contact.

When he settled back beside you, he seemed to hesitate for a moment before lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You joined him, both of you lying side by side, shoulders almost touching.

"There are glow-in-the-dark stars up there," Armin pointed out quietly. Sure enough, faint green stars were stuck to the ceiling in no particular pattern. "Jean would die if he knew I told anyone. He says they were there when he moved in."

You laughed softly, still tipsy but feeling more sober now.

The dim glow from the ceiling stars cast a soft, ethereal light over Armin’s face as you lay beside him. The alcohol had settled warmly in your veins, making every sensation just a little more intense—the softness of the bed beneath you, the muffled bass of the music downstairs, the way Armin’s breathing had slowed into something deep and steady beside you.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, studying the delicate slope of his button nose, the way his eyelashes fluttered when he blinked behind his glasses. His cheeks were still flushed pink from the drinks, and his lips—soft, slightly parted—were just inches from yours. His hair, usually so neat, was tousled from the night’s chaos, falling in golden strands across his forehead. You had the sudden, overwhelming urge to run your fingers through it, to see if it was as silky as it looked.

Armin must have noticed you staring, because his eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, the air between you stilled. His gaze was warm, hazy with alcohol but still so Armin, so full of quiet intensity.

Then, without a word, he shifted onto his elbow, leaning over you. His free hand came up, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a tenderness that made your pulse jump.

You barely had time to process it before he was kissing you.

His lips were warm, slightly chapped, and tasted faintly of cheap beer and something sweet—maybe the soda he’d been drinking earlier. The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as if he was still unsure if this was okay. But when you sighed against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer, he deepened it with a quiet urgency that sent heat spiraling through your stomach.

His hand slid from your hair to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. You could feel the warmth of his body pressing into yours, the way his breath hitched when you nipped lightly at his lower lip.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your mouth, voice rough.

You answered by tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down to you. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your lips, and suddenly his weight was pressing you into the mattress, his hips slotting between your thighs in a way that made your breath catch.

The kiss turned hotter, messier—his tongue sliding against yours, his hands roaming your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before settling on your hips. You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, the way his fingers flexed against you like he was holding back from touching you everywhere.

Armin’s breath was hot against your lips as he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, filthy drag that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were everywhere—tangling in your hair, skimming down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. You could feel the heat of him pressed against you, the way his body trembled slightly with restraint, like he was holding himself back from just taking what he wanted.

You arched up into him, grinding your hips against his, and he let out a broken groan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he panted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with want. His lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed, and his voice was rough when he spoke again. “I—I wanna fuck you. So bad.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight between your legs. You could feel how hard he was already, the thick line of his cock pressing insistently against your thigh through his jeans.

“Yeah?” you breathed, your own voice shaky.

Armin nodded, biting his lower lip as his hands slid under the hem of your top, fingers brushing against the bare skin of your stomach. “Yeah. God, you feel—you feel so good. Can I—?”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you unzipped your jeans and grabbed his wrist to guide his hand lower, past the waistband of your jeans, letting him feel the damp heat of your panties. His breath hitched, fingers twitching against you.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, voice wrecked. “You’re—you’re already—”

You cut him off with another kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth as your own hands wandered lower, palming the hard bulge in his jeans. He jerked against your touch, hips bucking forward with a desperate little noise.

“You too,” you murmured against his lips, squeezing him through the fabric.

Armin shuddered, his forehead dropping against yours as he let out a shaky exhale. “Shit—shit—keep doing that—”

You did, rubbing him slowly, feeling him throb under your fingers. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hips rocking into your hand, chasing the friction.

“You’re so hard,” you whispered, biting at his jaw.

Armin whined, his fingers digging into your hips. “Because of you—fuck, I—I wanna fuck you—”

His hand slid back down, slipping beneath your panties this time, fingers brushing through your slick folds. You gasped, arching into his touch, and he groaned against your neck.

Armin’s breath hitched when you suddenly switched positions and pushed him back onto the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you straddled his thighs. His cock strained against his jeans, the fabric damp with pre-cum, and his fingers twitched at his sides like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you or not.

“You—you don’t have to—” he started, voice already wrecked.

You silenced him with a smirk, taking his glasses off which were slightly fogged up and folding them to put on the nearby nightstand, then popping the button of his jeans and dragging the zipper down agonizingly slow. His hips jerked up, chasing your touch, and you could see the way his cock twitched under his boxers, desperate for relief.

“I want to,” you murmured, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down just enough to free him.

Armin gasped as the cool air hit his flushed skin, his cock springing free—hard, leaking, and so fucking pretty. You licked your lips, watching the way his stomach clenched as you wrapped your fingers around him, giving him a slow stroke.

“Fuck,” he whined, his head falling back against the pillow.

You didn’t tease him any longer. Leaning down, you dragged your tongue over the head of his cock, tasting the salty-sweet pre-cum beading at the tip. Armin’s hips jerked, a broken noise tearing from his throat as you took him into your mouth.

It was messy—you were both still a little drunk, your movements sloppy and uncoordinated—but that just made it hotter. You sucked him deep, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you bobbed your head, spit dripping down your chin.

Armin was losing it. His fingers tangled in your hair, not pushing, just holding on for dear life as he whimpered above you. “Oh—oh God—your mouth—fuck—”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and his thighs trembled under you. His cock pulsed against your tongue, and you could tell he was already close—his breath was coming in ragged gasps, his hips twitching like he was trying not to thrust up into your throat.

“I—I’m gonna—” he choked out, his voice high and desperate.

You didn’t let up. Instead, you took him deeper, your nose brushing the coarse blond curls at the base of his cock, and that was all it took.

Armin came with a broken cry, his back arching off the bed as he spilled hot and thick down your throat. You swallowed around him, milking him through it until he was squirming from oversensitivity, his hands weakly tugging at your hair.

“Too much—too much—” he whined, his whole body trembling.

You pulled off with a wet pop, licking your lips as you looked up at him. His face was flushed, his lips parted as he panted, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Armin’s chest heaved as he blinked up at you, dazed and wrecked, his cock still twitching against his stomach. His cheeks burned even redder as he stammered,

“S-Sorry—I didn’t mean to—fuck, I just—”

You cut him off with a kiss, licking into his mouth so he could taste himself on your tongue. He moaned, his hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d pull away.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmured against his lips, grinding down against his thigh, letting him feel how soaked you still were. “Just fuck me.”

Armin’s breath hitched, his cock already stiffening again at the words. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing greedily as he nodded, his voice rough.

“Yeah—yeah, okay—turn around—”

Armin's hands trembled as he helped you turn around, his breath coming in ragged gasps against the back of your neck. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as he knelt behind you, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

"Fuck," he groaned, dragging the denim down your thighs inch by inch, his voice thick with want. "Look at you—fuck—your ass is so perfect—"

The cool air hit your bare skin as he peeled your jeans off completely, leaving you in just your soaked panties. His fingers traced the curve of your ass, squeezing lightly before sliding between your thighs, rubbing over the damp fabric.

"So wet," he murmured, his voice wrecked. He hooked his fingers into your panties next, pulling them down slowly, his breath hitching as your pussy was finally exposed to him. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard."

His thumbs spread you open, and you could feel his hot gaze raking over every inch of you—your swollen lips, the way you dripped for him, the way your ass arched back, begging for him.

"Hang on, okay?" He said quietly, and you felt the bed shift with his weight. Then you heard the unmistakeable sound of a wrapper being opened. "Don't ask why I know where Jean keeps his condoms. He... likes to brag," Armin said sheepishly, making you giggle as you heard him whimper slightly as he presumably rolled the condom on.

Armin’s fingers dug into your hips as he lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your soaked entrance. He hesitated just for a second, his voice shaky with drunken lust and nerves.

“Fuck—I—I might not last, I’m sorry—”

But you barely heard him, because then he was pushing in, slow, that perfect curve of his cock hitting every sweet spot on the way. Your breath stuttered as he filled you, thick and throbbing, and a greedy moan tore from your throat before you could stop it.

“Oh fuck—” Your hands fisted the sheets, your back arching deeper, chest pressing into the mattress. “Yes—just like that, Armin.”

Armin groaned behind you, his hips stuttering as he bottomed out, his grip on you tightening like he was afraid you’d disappear. “You feel—fuck—you feel so good."

You clenched around him, and he whimpered, his cock twitching inside you like he was already fighting not to spill. But you didn’t care—not when he fit this perfectly, not when every ragged breath he took sent sparks through your veins.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white, as you rolled your hips back to meet his shallow thrusts. The new angle let you feel him even deeper, and you gasped, your back bowing as a shiver ran down your spine.

Armin choked out a whimper, his hands scrambling for purchase on your hips as he bottomed out, his thighs trembling against yours. “Y-You feel—fuck—so tight—”

You grinned into the mattress, rolling your hips to take him deeper, and he let out a broken noise, his nails biting into your skin. He was already unraveling, his cock pulsing inside you, and you loved it—the way he couldn’t hold back, the way he was falling apart just for you.

Armin’s hips snapped forward with a desperate, sloppy thrust, his cock sinking deep into your dripping cunt as a broken moan tore from his throat. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you wider as he watched, his dick glistening with your slick as it disappeared inside you again and again.

“Fuck—look at you—” he panted, his voice wrecked, pupils blown black with lust. “Taking me so good—your pussy’s sucking me in.”

You whimpered, your fingers clawing at the sheets as his cock dragged against your walls, the curve of him hitting that sweet spot with every rough snap of his hips. Your vision blurred, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach as he fucked into you with unsteady, frantic strokes—like he was already on the edge, but needed to make you feel it too.

“You’re—ngh—you’re so tight—” Armin groaned, his hips stuttering as he tried to hold back. His cock twitched inside you, swollen and throbbing, his balls drawing up tight. “Gonna—gonna cum—shit—but I wanna make you feel it first—”

His hand slid around your hip, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, frantic circles as he fucked you harder. You gasped, your back arching, your cunt clenching around him as pleasure sparked white-hot under your skin.

“There—right there—” you babbled, your voice shaking. “Armin—fuck—don’t stop—”

He whined, his thrusts turning erratic, his cock pulsing inside you as he teetered on the edge. “You—you like that? Like how I fuck you?” he slurred, his words dripping with filthy praise. “God, your pussy’s gripping me—squeezing my cock—fuck, I can’t—can’t—”

His hips jerked, his rhythm faltering as his orgasm ripped through him. He buried himself to the hilt with a choked-off moan, his cum flooding the inside of the condom.

You felt it—every twitch, every throb of his cock as he emptied himself inside you, his fingers still working your clit desperately, like he couldn’t stop even as he came.

“Fuck—fuck—” he gasped, his voice wrecked, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades as he shuddered through the aftershocks.

You weren’t far behind. The filthy sound of him filling you, the way his cock kept twitching inside you as he panted against your back—it pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you, your cunt clenching around him as you cried out, your thighs shaking, your nails digging into the mattress.

Armin groaned, his hips grinding weakly against your ass as he milked his own pleasure.

“Shit—” he mumbled, dazed, his voice slurred with booze and bliss. “You—you just came on my dick..." He pulled out, discarding the condom into a nearby trashcan.

You laughed breathlessly, your body still thrumming with pleasure as you collapsed onto the mattress beneath you. Armin followed, his chest pressing against your back as he nuzzled into your neck.

“You’re… really good at that,” you murmured, your voice hazy.

Armin huffed a drunken laugh against your skin, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah," you sighed, grinning as you felt his dick twitch against the skin of your ass.

He kissed your shoulder, his lips soft and sweet despite the filth that had just spilled from them. “...Wanna go again?”

You turned your head just enough to catch his gaze—his flushed cheeks, his messy hair, his stupidly pretty eyes—and grinned.

“Obviously.”

#armin x reader smut #aot x reader smut #aot smut #armin smut #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #armin arlert #armin #smut #aot x reader #aot #snk

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centaurianthropology · 14 days ago

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I’ve really enjoyed that the show is not only complicating the PresAux characters, but Preservation as a whole, and has done both with a lot of respect for the humanity of their situations.

One thing that gets brought up in the books is that Preservation is terraformed, and that by and large terraforming isn’t great. It’s usually half-assed, and done just enough to make a planet livable. One would imagine that Preservation as a society has sunk a lot of their efforts into making it far more than livable, making it the best planet it can be. They are actively trying to make a place where all citizens have their needs met, have enough to chase their dreams without fear of salary or losing health care or food or shelter. They are working toward a utopia.

But they don’t live in a utopia.

Their internal society is moneyless, but the external societies around them are not. And they don’t have everything they need. They don’t have magic replicators that create all their necessary resources from nothing. They are post-money, but not post-scarcity. They are stubbornly holding to their values to keep providing all their people with what they need, because that’s one of the non-negotiable pillars on which their society is built. These folks we’ve met especially are the true believers in Preservation ideals, in working toward building their society.

It would be easy to give in and join the Corporation Rim, and I like that some people want to take the easy way out. Because that’s people, isn’t it? Some people want what they don’t have, they want more or shinier or simply different. Just because your society is trying to build utopia doesn’t mean you’re all going to agree on what that looks like. And even in a communal society, you still have individual people who are going to want other things.

So they’ve come up with a workaround. It’s not perfect, but likely it’s the best way they can figure out to get external resources they can’t yet produce internally, while still holding to as many of their ideals as possible. They send teams out to do scientific work. That work either helps them further their internal goals—getting resources or knowledge that can make them more and more self-sustaining—or that work can be sold, likely in trade for goods or resources Preservation simply cannot provide at this point in time.

Even sending their planetary leader on these missions makes sense from the communal mindset. Of course the leader needs to do that work. They have to see the risks taken, the compromises made, the dirty parts of supporting their society. They have to be down in the dirt with everyone else, never above and able to ignore the realities of what must be done to make their better world.

They don’t have luxury space communism. They are a communal society with limited resources surrounded by corporate sharks. And some of their people want to become sharks, betraying the heart of their society. So they have to fight for their culture and their world through their actions and their decisions. They have to make compromises and work with outside forces they don’t entirely (or even remotely) agree with for the benefit of their people. And even in this group of true believers there’s internal disagreement! Bharadwaj sees this as scientific endeavor for the greater good, and she’s right! Gurathin sees it as selling knowledge to corporate fucks who will likely misuse it, and he’s right!

It’s sticky, it’s less pleasant than perhaps some book readers were hoping for. They wanted perfect luxury space communism with all scarcity problems already fixed and everyone living in harmony. They wanted the utopia rather than the pre-utopian work and compromise and challenges.

I don’t know, man, I just really like seeing a communal society of space hippies get portrayed with such care and respect for their humanity and their struggles. I like that they get to be people. I like that we get to see them doing the work and living by their ideals even when (especially when) it’s hard.

#murderbot tv #murderbot #murderbot meta #about the economy of Preservation #some book spoilers #though very mild #I just think it’s neat to see folks doing the work to make a better world #and having to grapple with the realities of that work

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rqbossman · 1 month ago

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I was thinking about the absolute carnage of towerfall - you were in a plane before, you’re dead; you were on a train or you were in a car travelling 60mph, you’re dead (assuming people are back where they started and travelling the same speed as they were before the Event) - like yeah, utter bloody chaos because the implication is everything (planet included) moved for 6 months but the humans are dropped into the exact latitude and longitude that they were before (consistent velocity to be confirmed) - every road is a pile-up, there are plane crashes everywhere, everyone is ✨horrifically✨ traumatised✨ (the bleakness is so wonderful, I adore it)

I asked before about how Jonny nearly killed billions of people - surely it must’ve been something regarding the consequences of towerfall? Did he want the people to be dropped back into the space they were in (sans planet)?

please do tell 😆

I FINALLY get to tell this story! Yay! Enormous Protocol and Archives Spoliers READER BEWARE: Firstly, you should know that whilst @jonnywaistcoat is a big ideas guy, I am normally the one who ends up going off and actually figuring out how things work in the real world. I'm always ending up saying something like "sure that's creepy but that's not how steam trains work. You need to account for the Stephensen Regulator" etc. This means that when @jonnywaistcoat had thoughts as to how Towerfall worked in early Protocol drafts, I was the one who had to try and make it work. We both wanted to make sure that people could begin to rebuild in a meaningful way rather than going full Mad Max but unfortunately I quickly realised that almost every instinct @jonnywaistcoat had for cataclysms generally lead to the irrecoverable collapse of civilisation and death of basically everyone. For instance, we both felt that the actual Hellscape could have lasted longer (in the order of months, not weeks) but no matter how I tried to bend things to fit that timeline, the truth is that human built infrastructure does not recover well from that length of absence. (at least, not in a way that doesn't kill most people from pestilence, starvation and associated wars.) So we had to make it a bit shorter and thankfully we'd already established there was time dilation at play in Archives. (We actually even experimented with it only lasting 1 day but we both decided that wouldn't hurt enough.) The worst case of this kind of logistical horror however, was about locations. @jonnywaistcoatwas was really enamoured with the idea that everyone would arrive back, not where they had left, but instead clumped according to their fears. I.e. Everyone in the Arachnophobic domain turns up in Australia together, everyone in the Nyctophobic domain turns up in Antarctica etc. so I dutifully went away and ran the numbers and no matter how I tackled it I kept coming to the conclusion that this pretty much kills everyone in less than a week due to the massive logistical collapse it causes. (There's actually a really great examination of this on XKCD) Now don't get me wrong, I was all for getting stuck-in telling the story of the bleakest logistical collapse possible but to quote Jonny "that sounds pretty grim and not in a fun way" so in the end we opted to return people where they left (albeit compensating for planetary movement so that we wouldn't accidentally extinct everyone in the most unsatisfying way imaginable). So there you have it. Technically, technically I saved the world including all your favourite characters from @jonnywaistcoat's insatiable bloodlust. You're welcome.

#alexander j newall #the magnus archives #the magnus protocol #meta #tmagp spoilers #tma spoilers #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #creative writing #the horror was logistics all all along #honest

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cutehoons02 · 2 months ago

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You are my most beautiful destiny

*pairing: frat Gryffindor boy Jake x gryffondor Girl

*trope: brother's best friend

*synopsis: Being Heeseung’s sister at Hogwarts has always meant only one thing: to be untouchable. No one dares to approach, no one dares to try… No one but Jake Sim, his best friend, also Gryffindor. After a summer in which everything seems changed - longer looks, more mischievous smiles - between you and Jake explodes a forbidden tension difficult to ignore. In the silence of the Common Room, between shared tasks and childish quarrels, there are stolen kisses, forbidden caresses and secret nights. Jake knows that breaking Heeseung’s trust is a mistake.You know you’re playing with fire but when the desire is so strong that it takes your breath away, how do you stop?

*tags: A lot of fun, they love to tease each other in every way,Hee's discovery of your secret in the final, both Jake and the protagonist are perverted, Jake is really down bad for her, green flag, secret, fake innocent girl, needy Jake, needy girl, lots of kisses, fingering, male masturbation, big dick, virgin reader, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) -room necessities- pet names (baby,plague) (jakey) +18

12.1k (✨)

(English is not my native language)

The summer had flown by like a poorly cast spell. You had spent months in Muggle London, far from the corridors of Hogwarts, trying to forget—or maybe drown— that foolish, impossible crush that had tightened your stomach every time Jake Sim walked past you. Jake: Your brother Heeseung’s best friend, the guy you should never have looked at in that way, and yet, that summer, the irreparable had happened. When he had come to visit Heeseung in London, on one of those lazy, sun-filled afternoons, something happened that you had wanted since you were a little girl: a kiss. It's not one of those accidental or stolen kisses. No. Jake had looked at you as if he were seeing you for the first time—not just “Hee’s little sister”—and pressed his lips to yours with a hunger you had always dreamed of and feared at the same time. It had been rough, sweet, desperate, and now… you were crossing the doors of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, your heart feeling like it was about to explode, your new uniform fitting snugly around your hips that summer had made more mature, and the unbearable weight of your secret pressing down on your shoulders. You felt different, and he was making you think it even more. His eyes found you immediately through the crowd, and when Jake saw you, he thought: Shit. She’s changed.

Your skirt was a little shorter, your legs were longer, and your hair fell on your shoulders like a damned walking temptation. Jake forced himself to breathe as he watched you walk through the Great Hall, your cheeks flushed from the fresh air of the first day, that clumsy confidence making you irresistible. You were no longer the little girl clinging to Heeseung’s arm, and you weren’t just his best friend’s sister anymore. You were the girl he had kissed that damned night in London, against the wall of your room, the taste of your skin still burning on his tongue. The girl who made him want to say to hell with every rule, every friendship, every shred of common sense. Jake looked at you like a predator too hungry to pretend to be harmless, cursing himself when his eyes slid down your body, unable to stop.

“Don’t think about how much you miss kissing her.”

“Don’t think about how much you miss feeling her tremble beneath your hands.” And then, when you locked eyes with him and smiled, he knew. He was screwed.

The Magical Astrophysics classroom exuded pure terror mixed with disgust. Just hearing about astral formulas, magical gravitational calculations, and planetary rotations made you want to throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower. You hated math, you hated physics, and you would have hated that class… if it weren't for him. Jake Sim. No longer just a Hogwarts student, no longer just your brother's best friend. Jake was now the assistant to the professor of Astrophysics, standing at the desk in his gray and red sweater that clung to his broad chest, jeans that followed the lines of his muscular thighs, and those messy hair that seemed like they'd been styled by a storm. He was twenty-two and still had that princely face with a hint of… dangerously perverted boy vibes. The Flynn Rider of Hogwarts, as you and your best friend had nicknamed him—only with less gallantry and more nimble hands. You found yourself in the second row, your legs elegantly crossed, the skirt—okay, maybe a bit too short—following the latest fashion, your chin resting on your hands as you watched him. Every movement he made, like erasing the blackboard, or leaning forward, stretching the fabric of his jeans over his quads. Damn. T/L, sitting next to you—your best friend and your big brother's girlfriend—elbowed you firmly in the side. 'Stop looking at him like you're reading the list of things you want him to do to you,' she whispered, amused. You pouted at her, squeezing her arm. "If I weren't Hee's sister… he'd already be mine," you muttered under your breath. She chuckled and made a shushing gesture over her lips. 'You're forgetting to close your mouth, darling. Keep this up, and you'll drool on the desk.' With a grimace, you gave her a light slap on the shoulder, and you both burst into laughter, trying to muffle the sound with your palms. Until you heard the sharp clapping of the professor’s hands, and the room fell into silence. --Alright, alright!-- the professor boomed, turning his gaze on Jake with evident approval. --This subject is crucial—it makes up thirty-five percent of your final diploma grade! And I want you all to know how possible it is to excel: Jake Sim, how did you do on the final test- Jake, with his usual slightly cocky grin, answered without hesitation: "A hundred out of a hundred, professor." The room murmured. Some applauded. You? You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from clapping too loudly or… jumping on him. "For this, guys, he'll be my official assistant and your role model throughout the academic year," the professor concluded proudly.

T/L leaned toward you, whispering in your ear: 'Don't tell me you chose Magical Astrophysics just because he was in it…' You shrugged innocently. She looked at you, exasperated. 'You're the worst. Heeseung would skin you alive if he found out even about a flirt, you know that? This isn't going to end well…' You looked at her with a smile that said everything and nothing, and meanwhile, while the professor explained, your eyes darted back to Jake. Jake, who for a moment had stopped listening to the professor. Jake, who was looking at you with that mix of amusement and… damn hunger.

It had been just a week since the start of classes, and already you felt like you were drowning under a mountain of homework. The Magical Astrophysics professor seemed to enjoy torturing you, assigning interactive models of planets and magical constellations to be completed within a few days. There you were, curled up in a dimly lit corner of the library, near the Astral Tower, with a pout on your face. Even with the perfect formulas and a little magic, you still couldn't locate a damn constellation on your enchanted 3D notebook. It was as if the stars were having fun mocking you. You sighed, casting a glance at the empty table beside you. You were supposed to be working with T/L, your best friend from Ravenclaw, but she had decided to go on a romantic date with your brother. "Romantic," you thought sarcastically, "they’re probably fucking like rabbits!" Surely, they were doing anything but having candlelit dinners in the alleys of Hogsmeade... Your thighs instinctively pressed together, a familiar heat rising from your core. You, too, would have liked to... experience those things. To feel what it meant to have someone so close. So deep inside. It was in that exact moment that a voice you knew all too well—one you had dreamed of, imagined, and desired in your most forbidden thoughts—broke the heavy air of the library: "Are they fucking like rabbits?"

You spun around quickly, your heart threatening to explode out of your chest. In front of you, dressed in black jeans and a soft sweater that caressed his sculpted chest, stood Jake Sim. The perfect incarnation of a prince charming... disguised as a damn temptation, and you jumped up from your chair, shouting:

"You can't use magic to listen to other people's thoughts!" you snapped, maybe a little too loudly. A few students shot you glares, and you blushed down to the roots of your hair, while Jake chuckled softly, with that raspy laugh that seemed like a spell meant to make your knees tremble. He came closer, lowering himself to your level and with a calloused finger, he lightly brushed your lips, silencing you gently.

"Shh... Don't shout, sweetheart. We’re in a library," he whispered, his voice so low and warm it made your skin tingle. You immediately lowered your gaze, feeling suddenly small under his presence. Jake sat down across from you without asking, taking your 3D notebook and pretending to study it with false concentration. Then, with a crooked smile, he looked up and asked

"So… who’s fucking like a rabbit, huh?" You shook your head furiously, your eyes wide and innocent. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Jake chuckled, resting his elbow on the table and his cheek on his hand, looking at you like he was staring at something incredibly funny and incredibly desirable at the same time. "I never thought Heeseung’s sweet little sister knew… such expressions." You clenched your fists on the table, lifting your gaze defiantly. That golden retriever laugh was dangerous. It made you want to jump on him. "I’m not as innocent as you think, Jake." For a moment, his smile faltered just slightly—a second, but enough to make something dark flicker in his eyes; a flash of raw, pure desire. Jake leaned in a little closer to you, his voice lowering to an almost sinful whisper: "Oh, really?"

"Yes," you answered sharply, without hesitation. Jake chuckled, that low, raspy laugh of his that made every nerve in your body vibrate, and pressed on, tilting his head to the side: "So, who’s fucking like rabbits in heat?" You blushed furiously, lowering your gaze to the notebook. With a barely audible voice, you mumbled: "T/L and Heeseung…" When you looked up, you noticed Jake’s eyebrows raise in a surprised and mischievous expression at the same time. He stretched slowly, carelessly, and his sweater lifted just enough to give you a forbidden view: sculpted abs, golden skin, the perfect V-line disappearing into his dark jeans… and those fine hairs that seemed to point the way to a place you’d only dared to imagine. You swallowed hard. Jake noticed immediately. With a cheeky grin, he threw at you: "Try not to drool too much, little one." You rolled your eyes, huffing, though inside, your heart was pounding like a drum. You went back to writing formulas, desperately trying to focus while he, with patient movements that were always a little too close to your personal space, corrected you, drawing light lines with his finger on the star maps. When you told him, with a shy smile, that he’d be an excellent professor, Jake gave you a look that made you want to melt into your chair. "You’re better than you think, sweetheart," he praised, and your stomach twisted. The sun slowly dipped behind the spires of Hogwarts, and small stars began to sparkle in the high windows of the library. Jake pointed to one of the constellations in the real sky and compared it to the one you had written, his proud smile when you finally managed to spot it. "Thanks… really," you murmured. "Always for you," he replied, in a voice so full of meaning it sent shivers down your spine.

As you walked back to the Common Room, Jake walked ahead of you, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He was relaxed, but now and then, he threw furtive glances over his shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped abruptly. Lost in your thoughts about how unfair it was that he was so perfect, you bumped into him, planting your forehead against his broad, muscular shoulder. You lifted your face, ready to complain… but found yourself trapped by his eyes, so close to yours that a single breath would have brought you together. Jake smiled softly. Then, without saying a word, he grabbed your hand and quickly looked around: the corridor was empty. With a swift spell, whispered against your skin, he made the Invisibility Cloak appear: a soft glow enveloped you, hiding you from prying eyes. With a quick spell, whispered against your skin, the Invisibility Cloak appeared: a soft glow enveloped you both, hiding you from prying eyes. He gently pushed you against the wall, your body pressed against the cold stone, his warmth immediately surrounding you. He leaned in, his face just a breath away from yours, and asked, his voice rough with an almost animalistic tension: "What did you mean… that you're not so innocent anymore, huh?" Your heart pounded in your chest, but you lifted your chin proudly. "I’m twenty, Jake. I’m not a child anymore. I know what happens between couples…" Jake's eyes darkened. He inhaled deeply while you, with a voice that barely trembled, continued: "I know about the different sexual positions. The verbal… erotic games… that can be done with magic. The foreplay… with hands… and magical toys." For a long, endless second, Jake remained still, staring at you as though you were saying the most shocking — and at the same time, most exciting — thing he’d ever heard. Then, he slowly ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, a gesture that revealed how hard he was fighting to maintain control. He warned you, his voice low and raspy: "If Heeseung knew even half of what you just said… he’d lock you away in a magical cloistered church. And throw away the key." You burst into laughter, the sound clear and genuine, warming even the air around you. "I guess you think T/L and I never talk about what happens… between her and Hee during sex? We're girls, it’s normal we confide these things…" You raised an eyebrow, innocent only in appearance.

Jake groaned softly, exasperated yet amused at the same time, and leaned in closer, pressing his face against your neck. He inhaled deeply, savoring your scent, before whispering against your warm skin: "You’re becoming a little troublemaker…" Then, with a sweetness almost cruel, he slowly degraded you: "So good at playing with fire… and still don’t know how badly you could burn yourself, little one." His lips barely brushed the sensitive spot on your neck, sending a wave of heat through you, making your knees tremble slightly. You stayed there, frozen against the cold wall, his face so close to yours that you could count every dark lash framing his deep eyes. With a barely audible voice, you whispered to him: "Have you ever thought… about what happened in London this summer?" Jake tensed up slightly. For what felt like an eternity, he said nothing — just his warm breath against your skin, and then he exploded into one of those low, deep laughs that made your soul vibrate. He moved just enough to look you in the eyes and asked, with a mischievous little smile: "And you, princess… have you thought about me?" You blinked, surprised, and responded sharply, "You don't answer a question… with another question." Jake laughed again, this time with a proud air, and tilted his head with that typical Gryffindor swagger: "Only a true Gryffindor would have the guts to throw that back at me. You're really stubborn, huh, little one?" He ran a hand through his hair in that nervous, fascinating gesture you had known since you were a child — a tic he'd always had, whenever he was agitated or about to say something important. His eyes, now dark as night, fixed on yours as he lowered his voice to make you tremble: "I thought about you every day, pest. Every single, damn day." Your breath caught. Jake moved even closer, his hips nearly pressing against yours against the wall, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "I would have kissed you nonstop. I would have wanted you in my room… or in yours… studying, watching those stupid Muggle movies… and then touching you, damn it, touching you without stopping. 24 hours a day. Because I…" He paused, squinting as if holding back the urgency, "…I need physical contact like I need air." His fingers lightly traced the outline of your jaw, his voice getting dirtier, rougher. "I would have wanted to make you feel good with my tongue… worship every inch of your body… and fuck you on any free surface at Hogwarts."

You instinctively clenched your thighs, the heat between them becoming almost unbearable. Jake immediately noticed the movement, and his eyes flashed with desire. He smiled in a sweet, dirty way, degrading you with a low tone, like a whispered promise:

"Look at how you're squeezing your legs for me, little one... You don't know how much it drives me crazy." His calloused fingers brushed your cheek again, tracing small, slow, almost hypnotic circles. He asked, his voice trembling,

"And you? Have you thought about me, little temptress?" You pouted slightly, biting your lower lip before murmuring,

"Yes... I've thought about you every night. But..." You bit your lip even harder. "I was scared... Scared of what Heeseung would think."

Jake growled softly, his jaw tightening.

"I knew we'd get ourselves into serious trouble," he said, his voice filled with frustration and restrained desire. You smiled, tilting your head slightly and responding in a bold whisper,

"If you're my trouble... then you'll be my favorite trouble." Jake froze for half a second. Then, with an explosion of emotion too strong to contain, he praised you in a hoarse voice: "Shit... you're perfect." And without giving you even a moment to breathe, he smashed his lips against yours.

The kiss wasn’t sweet; it was urgent, desperate. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you against him as if he wanted to melt into you. Your back hit the wall, but you didn’t even notice: all you felt was Jake’s mouth claiming yours, his tongue searching for yours with a wild hunger, his fingers caressing you everywhere they could reach. Jake’s hands tightened firmly around your hips as your lips continued to search for each other with increasing desperation. His body was warm against yours, his breath growing more ragged. In a surge of boldness, you sank your fingers into his soft hair and tugged lightly. Jake moaned against your mouth — a low, visceral sound — and without meaning to, he thrust his pelvis forward, rubbing his hard erection against your center, already throbbing desperately under the thin fabric of your skirt. A moan escaped your lips. You stayed still, panting, and with lips barely parted, whispered to him: “Merlin… you’re so hard…” Jake chuckled against your skin, the sound rough and dirty: “Your fault, pest.” His voice was hoarse, laced with desire. “If you weren’t so fucking sexy every time you sit in class with that damn mini skirt of yours…” His big hands slid slowly, boldly, under the fabric of your skirt, creeping up your trembling thighs. He moved closer to your ear, nibbling on your lobe before whispering to you: “…and then you complain when I look at you like I want to eat you alive.” His fingers slid higher, grazing the inside of your thigh with slow, deliberate movements meant to drive you crazy. His lips descended on your neck, kissing and teasing your skin until he found a sensitive spot. When he started sucking on it softly, almost marking you, you confessed in a breathy voice: “It was my intention… to have you looking at me.” Jake stopped for a second, his fiery eyes locked on yours. He degraded you gently, his tone hard and provocative: “Damn pest… you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” He bit your neck lightly, and you moaned his name, unable to hold back: “J-Jake…” His breath hit you, hot against your skin. “Shit… you’re driving me crazy, little one.” His hands were now under your skirt, his fingers dangerously close to your wet center. The thin fabric of your underwear was the only barrier between you and him, and the way he caressed you made you tremble all over.

Then — footsteps. The sound of footsteps in the hallway. Instinctively, you tried to pull away, but Jake pressed you harder against the wall, one broad hand covering your mouth while the other held you still against his hard body. “Shhh, love… not a sound,” he whispered against your skin. He continued kissing your neck, sucking your skin, while your body slowly twisted against him. Every moan you tried to let out was muffled by his palm, making the situation even more forbidden, even more exciting. When the footsteps faded and the silence returned, Jake slowly removed his hand from your mouth. Your lips were red, your breath broken. Jake looked at you and chuckled softly, satisfied with how he’d reduced you: “Merlin, you’re perfect. You’re made to be touched, adored… and spoiled by me.” He lowered himself to give you another dirty, sweet kiss on the lips, then reluctantly pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. “We should… go to dinner before someone notices we’re using the invisibility cloak in completely inappropriate ways!" He smiled mischievously, biting your lip lightly, then took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours: “It’s not over, pest. Tonight, in the Room of Requirement… after dinner.” And you nodded.

At dinner at the long Gryffindor table, you were sitting next to Heeseung, and in front of you was Jake, who sometimes stared at you but at the same time did everything he could to avoid being caught by Heeseung, while they talked about Quidditch and their university courses. You were savoring the last bite of your pear and chocolate cake when Heeseung turned to you with his usual nosy older-brother smile. 'By the way, sis… a certain Jareth Moon — a first-year Ravenclaw on the Quidditch team — asked me for permission to ask you out.' Your fork froze mid-air. You turned to look at him, frowning. "Permission?! Hee, are we in the 1800s or something?" Heeseung laughed, shaking his head. Jake, across the table, had stiffened imperceptibly, his eyes fixed on his glass. 'Don’t get mad, it’s just out of respect. He’s the first guy who came to me instead of sneaking around. It impressed me, and… I said yes.' That was when Jake nearly choked on his pumpkin juice, coughing and banging a hand on the table. Between coughs, he muttered with a tight smile: "Well… for a Ravenclaw, he must be pretty desperate to ask for the brother's permission." The jab was dry, almost venomous.

Heeseung shot him a sharp look, but then shrugged, defending the guy: 'He’s just a polite guy, Jake. Not everyone’s a damn fool with their brains fried from Quidditch, you know?' You tried to ignore them, irritated. Chewing loudly, you snapped "I don’t like him anyway." Heeseung grimaced 'For once I give you the green light… and you refuse? Seriously?' You clenched your fists against the tablecloth, your face flushed with frustration. You suddenly stood up, moving your plate and startling Jake, who looked at you with those dark eyes, filled with something far more dangerous than simple disapproval. "It’s not him I want," you declared loudly, enough to silence the nearby boys. With your heart pounding in your chest, you quickly turned and walked across the Great Hall.

Before you left, you shot a quick glance at Jake — and he was watching you, intense, his fist clenched as if he wanted to crush something. Jake made a move to touch his hair — his nervous tic — but he stopped, aware that Heeseung would catch him immediately. So he took your plate, absentmindedly finishing the last piece of cake you’d left. Heeseung watched him with a half-smile, amused.

'So... who do you think really wants my sister?'

Jake shrugged, staring at his plate without answering right away. Then, with a cynical chuckle, he said

"I don’t even want to imagine it. With that stubbornness, being her boyfriend must be a fucking nightmare."

Heeseung laughed loudly, thinking Jake was joking. He didn’t catch the bittersweet shadow that passed through his friend’s eyes.

Jake threw one last glance at the door you had disappeared through and stood up calmly, shaking off his robes:

"I have to go. I’ve got assignments to grade... including your pest of a sister’s."

Heeseung laughed again, 'Don’t be too hard on her, come on. She’s good, even if she pretends not to be.'

Jake flashed a crooked smile, hiding the urgency burning beneath his skin. As soon as he stepped out of the Great Hall, he saw, from the corner of his eye, Heeseung reach his girlfriend at the Ravenclaw table. He sighed softly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Thank God," he muttered to himself. "At least for tonight... no one will bother us." The Room of Requirement was already calling to him from the basement. And deep down, he knew very well that he wouldn’t be able to resist much longer — neither you nor the desperate pull of your body, which longed for only him.

Jake entered the Room of Requirement and immediately saw you. You were sitting on a wide sofa, next to a large lit fireplace casting flickering shadows on the golden walls. In your hands, you held a magical phone, scrolling through Muggle videos — probably romantic comedies, your guilty pleasure. As soon as you felt his electric energy vibrating in the air, you looked up. His eyes caught you immediately, dark and full of restrained desire. Jake sat next to you, spreading his legs in that cheeky, relaxed, and damn sexy way of his. He watched you for a moment, before chuckling with his low, hoarse voice. "Should I ask your big brother for permission too to have a date with you, princess?" You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, though your heart was pounding in your chest: "I hate it when he does that, Jake… I’m not a kid anymore." Jake immediately warned you in a low, authoritative tone, while his hand gently stroked your thigh. "You should never say — or even think — such awful things about your brother. He cares about you, even if he treats you like a little girl." You lowered your gaze, nibbling on your lip, and nodded softly. Jake motioned with his hand: "Come here." You timidly approached his legs, but it wasn’t enough. Jake grabbed you by the hips firmly and placed you straddling him, making you blush to your ears. One of his hands slid under your skirt, brushing the bare skin of your thighs with slow and confident fingers, while the other went under your warm sweater. He inhaled your scent — a sweet mix of chocolate and caramel — and closed his eyes for a moment, almost enchanted. You pressed yourself against him, clinging to his shoulders. Jake lowered his head and started kissing your neck, running his tongue over it, gently nibbling on your skin. Between kisses, he whispered: "That Ravenclaw… do you know him?" You shook your head slightly, your voice trembling: "No… never seen him before." Jake smiled against your skin, satisfied, and replied: "Good." You took his chin between your fingers, forcing him to look into your eyes. "Are you jealous, Jake?"

He stared at you intensely, gripping your ass tightly, making you gasp. With a hoarse, almost threatening voice, he answered: "I don’t even want to imagine seeing you with someone else. If it’s not me… there shouldn’t be anyone else." It came naturally to you to run your hands through his messy brown hair, ruffling it. "You’re so cute when you’re jealous…" Jake immediately warned you, sweetly degrading you: "Pest, don’t tease me like that… or you’ll end up crying under me." Then he gave your ass a small slap, making the fabric of your skirt snap against your skin, and a moan escaped your lips, making you feel all hot. Jake laughed softly, a rough sound that made you vibrate inside: "Tell me, what do you plan to do with your future boyfriend… who, by the way, will only be me. Got it, pest?" Still a little out of breath, you responded with a provocative smile: "You’re too possessive, Jake." He praised you, nibbling your neck, while his hand under the sweater caressed your bare back: "Because… you’re all mine. Only mine." Then, with a hot whisper in your ear, he asked: "And now… I want to know: what dirty thoughts have you had about me?" You blushed, shaking your head with a small, awkward smile. Jake reminded you, biting your ear: "Don’t play shy, pest… you already confessed them to me before… now I want the details." You closed your eyes and, trembling, began to think of all those fantasies that you had repressed for months, with your face on fire and your heart pounding in your chest, you approached his ear, feeling the warm and spicy scent of his skin. You whispered softly, your voice trembling "…I touched myself all summer thinking of you… I wanted to feel your mouth against my nipples… I wanted to beg your name as I came to your face … your fingers… I wanted to feel you inside me, so crazy. And I wanted to do it in places where they could also discover us… I also thought about the erotic games that older girls talked about… the ones they did to their boyfriends…" He stood still for a second as if your breath had ignited his blood. Then, slowly, like a predator savoring its prey, you lifted up its sweater, revealing its sculpted abdomen. You began to kiss him shyly, from the collarbones, passing with the tip of the tongue along the perfect line of his abs. Your little hands trembled against his warm skin, as he closed his eyes, barely holding back control. With a hoarse voice, deep and sharp, he gently degraded you: "Little plague… you have no idea what you're doing to me. You're playing with fire… and I'm not going to turn it off." he inhaled hard, clenching his jaw: "I want to adore you, make you cry from pleasure… I want to hear you implore me to fuck you, princess. But not today. Today I will teach you to collapse under my touch." You nodded trembling, not being able to look away from his black eyes, so full of desire. In a broken voice you asked him «…C - what should I do…?" he just smiled, that dirty smile that made your knees shake: "Stand up slightly, love." You obeyed, arching your pelvis. With a quick whispered spell, he slid your skirt down to your ankles. Your sweatshirt also faded like snow in the sun, leaving you alone in a red lingerie outfit that looked sewn to your skin.

"Fucking little temptress… Red panties and a matching bra? You planned to make me lose my mind, didn't you, plague?" He made you lie slowly on the couch and climbed on top of you, his weight against your half-naked body. He slid his hard cock over your most sensitive part, snatching at you a sweet moan, so spontaneous that he growled softly. He rubbed softly, feeling the heat between you, while his hands held you still, as if you were about to escape from too great a pleasure. Slowly he began to cover your thighs with small kisses, to climb up, to make you tremble. She reached the edge of the red panties and stopped, looking into your eyes: "You're sure, little plague…?» You stammered, blushing furiously " I want you… just you… Please…" With a carnivorous smile, he slid his panties off, throwing them somewhere behind him. He bent down to look at you, to take you all with his gaze and gently degraded you: "Look how you are already all lucid to me… Dirty little plague…" You bit your lip as his fingers grazed your hot center, making you moan. You asked him with a little voice: "Jake.. want… I want to feel good… Please…" He smiled against your skin: "Oh, my love… I'll make you feel so good that you'll never want to break away from me again." he ran a finger against your swollen, throbbing clitoris, pinching it slightly. A desperate groan eluded you, as you moaned his nickname: "Jakey.." He smiled proudly, and continued to tease you with slow, deep touches, making you lose all thought, all control, all rationality…he slowly slid his tongue against your clit, savoring you for the first time. Your body arched its hips in a snap, as if lightning had passed through you all, and without even thinking about it you pulled his hair with force, babbling in groans: "J-J.. It's too much… too good… Please… don't stop…" He giggled at you, the heat of his breath making you tremble even more. He degraded you with a hoarse voice and kneaded with desire: "My plague… are you already lost under my tongue, huh? Wait till you feel my cock inside you… I'll break you in two, just because you're mine." As his words made you all tremble, you felt the promise of a deeper touch: he whispered to you, " Now I'll slide a finger inside this fucking wet cunt, baby. Prepare." you nodded frantically, unable to say anything else, and when his finger entered you slowly, you screamed with pleasure, your head throwing back on the couch: "A-ahhh… J-Jakey!" he swore, as he felt how tight you was, so damn tight he had to restrain himself: "Fuck… you're perfect…tight just for me…tight for the only guy who will have you. Tight for what will break you while he fucks you, my baby." His tongue moved back to your clitoris with small slow movements, making eights while his finger gently prepared you. You moaned, stammered broken words while still pulling his hair, unable to control the pleasure that invaded you "you-you are… so good… so good… I want you… I want you… ak.." Without warning you, he slid a second finger into you. Your body stiffened and you moaned in despair.

"T-too much… It's too much…" he laughed softly against your skin, enjoying your every reaction: "I'm just preparing you, little plague. You don't even know how little I'll hold out before I want to fuck you on every surface of Hogwarts…" He kept working you slow, feeling your muscles tighten around his fingers. You moaned, you called him, you abandoned yourself to him without shame. "J.. jake.. I want to come… Please… I want to come for you…" he lifted his head and looked at you from above, his mouth shining at you, a dangerous smile on his lips "Do you want to come, my love? Then give me something in return. Tell me a dirty thought you made about me." you shook your head hard, all red, biting your lip. "N-no… I can't… it's embarrassing…" "Good girls only come if they give something in return. If you don't want to tell me… then you don't deserve to come, plague." And so, with a slow and cruel movement, he removed a finger from inside you. "N-no! No, please! Don't stop!" He looked at you satisfied, waiting. With tears in his eyes from need, you collapsed and stammered "During… during a game of Quidditch……I thought how nice it would be for me to get in the stands….with your uniform still on… and I with nothing under my skirt…..while everyone looked at you as the hero……and I knew you were scoring the real point with me…" he growled quietly, as if those words had taken away any remaining control. He pinched your clit with cruel and perfect precision. You screamed his name, your body exploding under his fingers, your hips moving uncontrollably against his hand, as you squirted against his mouth and fingers. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He leaned over you and kissed you sweetly, making you savor yourself on his tongue, as he whispered: "Very good girl, my little plague…You were perfect for me… and it's just the beginning." He held you in his strong arms, his heart still beating madly, as you felt that, with him, you would know heaven… and the sweetest hell.

It had been two months since you and Jake had decided to give being together a try and to be honest, those had been two of the best months of your life. In class, you were among the best: every time the professor gave you an excellent grade on a project, you knew there was a special "reward" waiting for you… Jake, who would secretly take your hand under the desks, would drag you down the darkest halls of Hogwarts and kiss you against the cold stone statues, smiling between kisses like a boy who had just won his most important trophy: you. There were nights when, with the invisibility cloak, you'd lie together on the banks of the Black Lake. You'd gaze at the constellations, and talk about your dreams, and he would hold you tight, whispering sweet things… or dirty ones, depending on his mood. During the parties, Jake became even more bold: when Heeseung was busy dancing with his girlfriend — your best friend — or hiding somewhere to do who knows what, Jake would approach you from behind. He'd whisper things in your ear that made your cheeks turn red and your heart race, things about how much he desired you and how he couldn’t wait to be alone with you. Between a hidden kiss, a stolen laugh, and study nights where you ended up kissing more than studying, you and Jake had become inseparable. Even though no one officially knew yet… especially Heeseung.

That afternoon, you were walking side by side with your usual group: Sunghoon and his girlfriend, your best friend (Hee's girlfriend), Ni-Ki, Sunoo, Jay, Jungwon, and of course, Jake. Jake was next to you, talking to Jay, but now and then, he would throw you quick glances and lightly brush his hand against yours, as if to remind you he was there. You all entered the sweet shop in Hogsmeade, immersed in the usual sugary scent of chocolate, caramel, and cotton candy. The line was long, but while you were focused on choosing which pastry to get, a boy approached. He was tall, much taller than Jake. Blond hair, almost shaved, and eyes as blue as the frozen sea. He introduced himself with a confident smile:

"Hey, how’s it going? I’m Jareth. I think you’ve heard of me… I’m on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team." You turned around, surprised, recognizing the name: Jareth, the one Heeseung had mentioned weeks before. You smiled politely and introduced yourself. Jareth was the complete opposite of Jake: where Jake was muscular but agile, Jareth was imposing and massive. Jake had those deep, warm hazel puppy-dog eyes, while Jareth’s looked sharp and cold. Casually, as you were picking a pastry, he asked: "I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me, maybe this weekend… You know, I got permission from your brother." You stopped, surprised, and then raised an eyebrow. "Oh… really? I feel like a medieval princess, locked in a tower… how sweet!" Your little jab didn’t go unnoticed. Behind you, Jay and Jake — who had heard everything — started laughing quietly, but Jake… Jake was nervously running a hand through his hair, his eyes bright with restrained jealousy. His lips were pressed tight, and Jay gave him a pat on the shoulder, whispering: -Don’t make a scene, bro… Breathe.- Jareth, oblivious to the tension, gave you another bold smile. "So, what do you say?" You tilted your head to the side, studying him for a few seconds, then smiled sweetly. "You were kind to ask for permission… but no, thanks. Right now, I’ve got other things on my mind. I just want to graduate with good grades, that’s all." Jareth nodded understandingly, not pressing further, and waved goodbye with a small, respectful gesture. Jake, sitting at a table not far away with Jay and the others, clenched his jaw tightly, so much so that Jay noticed and nudged him in the side to get him to relax. When you returned to the group with your bag of sweets, you sat right next to Jake.

He glanced at you sideways, his hands clenched on his knees as if he were holding himself back. Heeseung, sitting across from you, stared at you with furrowed brows and burst out: 'Why didn’t you say yes to him?' You rolled your eyes in exasperation. "Because I don’t like him, Hee! Do I need to repeat myself?" Jay, amused by the whole situation, chimed in with a mischievous laugh. -Then tell us, what’s your type? What kind of guy would you really like?- But before you could answer, Heeseung mumbled through gritted teeth: 'Definitely not you.' Jay immediately raised his hands in surrender, laughing. -Relax, big bro, my heart beats for someone else!- You giggled under your breath while biting into your chocolate pastry, finding the whole scene ridiculous but sweet at the same time. You chewed slowly, thoughtful, then looked at Jay — but also glanced at Jake out of the corner of your eye — and began to list dreamily: "I like guys who are a bit cheeky… not shy. They need a lot of affection… especially physical affection." Jake bit his lip, lowering his hoodie to hide a smile. "They need to be sweet but also a little… perverted," you continued, with an embarrassed grin. Jake almost choked on the hot chocolate he was drinking, while Jay laughed loudly. "And they need to know what they want," you added, crossing your arms. "Physically," you laughed a little, "I like guys with dark, long hair, a bit nerdy but not too much, with big brown eyes, and an athletic build…" Jake made a joke, throwing a jab that made Jay blush. "Basically… you want the whole package. 24/7 worship included?" You turned towards him, clutching the bag of sweets in your hands, and with a fake innocent smile said: "Exactly." Heeseung was staring at you in silence, with such a dark look that it seemed like he could zap someone at any moment. Finally, he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. 'It was better when you were ten and running around the meadow chasing frogs, rather than hearing you talk about boys…' His girlfriend, laughing softly, gave him a light shove on the shoulder. 'Maybe that’s true for others, but for her, it’s different.' You clenched your jaw, irritated, and staring at him with eyes that were teary but firm, you replied: "One day, you’ll have to accept who my boyfriend is, Hee. Because I won’t stop wanting to love just to make you happy." At that point, Jake lowered his gaze, clenching his fists under the table, as if every word was a blow to his chest.

That afternoon, like every day, you were sitting in the study room, immersed in your Magical Astrophysics notes. The pen spun between your fingers as you tried to solve a complex problem about the trajectories of enchanted comets. The chair in front of you creaked slightly. An involuntary smile brushed your lips: at this hour, Jake always arrived, as punctual as a clock. But when you lifted your gaze, the smile slowly died on your lips. In front of you were blond hair and ice-blue eyes. Jareth. "Jareth…" you whispered, confused. He smiled at you affably, with that overly confident way about him. "Need a hand?" he asked, tilting his head. "No, thanks… I’m fine," you replied quickly, returning your focus to your notes. But he still approached, noticing a small mistake in your calculation. "Here," he said, touching your notebook with the tip of his finger, "you made a small error." You corrected it immediately, mumbling a barely perceptible thank you. Then, with casual ease, Jareth leaned toward you and whispered: "So… the answer is still no?" You looked at him, puzzled. "No?" you repeated. "I mean… to the date," he clarified, biting his lip with a mischievous look. You sighed. "Yes, the answer is still no." Jareth chuckled softly, not at all discouraged. "It’s just two hours… I won’t ruin your study plans. And if you want, we could catch up tonight in the common room… together," he added, brushing your arm with his hand. It was at that moment that a familiar, rough voice cut through the air like a blade. "Don’t you dare touch her." You whipped around. Jake was there, standing, fists clenched at his sides and a look so fierce it seemed like it could burn Jareth on the spot. Jareth snickered, throwing a challenging glance at Jake: "Relax, mate." Jake gritted his teeth and, in a low, dangerous voice, hissed, "I’m not friends with anyone." Then he moved closer, gently but firmly grabbing your wrist. "Grab your stuff," he ordered, leaving you no escape. With your heart in your throat, you quickly stuffed your books into your bag and followed him. Jake walked ahead of you, occasionally glancing back at you with quick looks, as if making sure you were still there. He kept running a nervous hand through his hair. You walked quickly down the deserted hallways of Hogwarts, and then he opened the door to the Room of Requirement.

As always, the room had understood exactly what you needed: a crackling fireplace, a large, soft sofa… and a canopy bed draped in velvet curtains. You placed your bag against the sofa, your heart pounding wildly. When you turned around, Jake was already behind you. In one swift motion, he gently but decisively pushed you against the wall. He stayed just a few centimeters away from you, his breath heavy, his eyes flashing with conflicting emotions. "Why did you smile at him?" he whispered, his voice rough. You looked at him, surprised, but didn’t even have time to respond before Jake took your face in his hands, as if afraid of breaking you, and his thumb traced the line of your cheek. "I don’t want… I can’t see you with anyone else," he said, his forehead resting against yours. "I’m not good, I’m not perfect… but I want you all to myself." You felt his words tremble against your skin, like a prayer and a promise at the same time. His lips crashed against yours with a hunger that made you tremble. Without thinking, you grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and pulled him even closer, snatching a low growl from his throat. When his tongue invaded your mouth, it seemed that an explosion of dances, sparks and magic fires exploded inside you. You groaned softly against his lips as you felt his hands sink into your hips as if he wanted to sculpt your body into memory. "I can't take it anymore," he muttered against your mouth, his voice hoarse and broken. "Me neither… I want you ,Jake.." you whispered, panting. But he paused for a second, looking into your eyes with a vulnerability that gripped your heart. "I don't want to make you suffer." You smiled, caressing his face. "I will not suffer… I've liked you for years." He let out a low growl, as if he could no longer restrain himself, and picked you up with frightening ease. He laid you gently on the large four-poster bed, the curtains swaying above you like a curtain ready to hide you from the world. He leaned over you and began to tease your neck with small wet kisses, making you laugh and moan softly. "I would have liked to… do it the first time in your room… or in mine," he whispered as he kissed your collarbone, "but Hee would find out right away." You smiled, hands entwined in his hair. "I like the Room of Necessity…" He smiled against your skin and let his sweatshirt off with an impatient gesture. Your eyes rested greedily on his defined muscles, on the warm skin that smelled of him. "You're…" you began, but he rolled over you. He straddled you on his sides, hazel eyes shining as if you were his one universe. With trembling hands you lifted his sweater, revealing his perfect chest, warm and toned. When he saw that you only had your bra underneath, he made a cute pout that made you laugh. "Little plague…" he murmured, gently degrading you as he gazed adoring at you. You bent down and began to kiss him everywhere: along his chest, on the ribs, until you left little hickeys on his skin. You could feel his breaths accelerating beneath you, his body straining every time your mouth slid over a sensitive spot.

With his heart pounding, you slowly pulled down the zip of his pants. When his gray boer: "you're… beautiful." he laughed softly, stroking your cheek. "You too, my love." In a moment of audacity, you rubbed against his hard penis, feeling its firm, pulsating texture beneath you. he groaned softly, clasping his hands on your sides.

"Continuous…" he begged you in a low voice. You continued to move slowly above him, first with small circles, then slightly increasing the pace, enjoying his reactions: the way he moaned your name, the way he closed his eyes to restrain himself. "P-I can… can I touch it and masturbate it?" you asked him with a thread of voice, trembling but excited, he giggled, his voice hoarse and low. "Where did you learn to speak like that? "he teased you, looking at you with those eyes full of desire. You smiled and, biting your lip, answered: "From a magician… who studies astrophysics… play Quidditch… and he's Australian." Jake let himself go against the mattress, his dark hair tousled and his dark eyes fixed on yours while you, straddling his muscular thighs, lowered his gray boxer when his member sprinted free, long, thick and taut against his sculpted abs, you squinted without even being able to restrain yourself. "M-merlin…" you stuttered, feeling his face glow with blush as you gazed at every pulsating vein, every impressive detail of him. he laughed, his hoarse, low laugh vibrating in your chest. He pushed back a strand behind your ear, thumb gently brushing your cheek. "I told you I would only make you feel good," he muttered against your lips,"I will never hurt you, baby" He guided your hand towards him. Trembling with excitement, you closed your hand around its hot, pulsating member, starting to pump softly, feeling the velvety skin and live weight under your fingers. he threw his head against the pillow and moaned loudly, not ashamed.

"So, baby … Fuck, you look like you were born to drive me crazy." You lowered yourself slowly, brushing the damp tip with your tongue, licking as if you were savoring a forbidden dessert. he bit his lip hard so as not to moan even louder, but you grabbed his wrist and took his hand out of his mouth. "I want to hear you," he whispered in a hoarse, mischievous voice, as you continued to tease him, slowly licking the tip, pressing his hand harder on his member. he moaned openly this time, without holding back. With one quick move, he pulled down your skirt and with it your panties, laughing at your skin while you, surprised, screamed his name. "Multitasking," he whispered with a devilish smile. He made you sit better on his thighs and, while you continued to lick and masturbate him, he ran his fingers between your thighs, caressing your clitoris already swollen with desire. A shiver ran through your entire back and you moaned hard against his cock. "You're already so wet, princess …" he laughed against your ear, as he ran two expert fingers inside you, starting to move them slowly. "I'm … I'm already melting," you moaned, involuntarily moving your hips against his fingers. he pushed deeper, while his thumb gently tormented your clit. You felt flooded with pleasure and you, without even thinking about it, rubbed harder against his hand and cock. "Keep sucking me like this," he growled softly, "and I'll make you cum so hard you won't stand up, baby" Your mouth and hands moved more decisively, while he increased the intensity of the caresses between your legs. Your tongue moved slow and greedy around the tip of his cock, savoring every ooze of his pleasure. He, with one hand in your hair, guided you a little further down, gently pushing you to welcome more into your mouth. "Breathe out of your mouth, Baby" He moaned at that gesture, his fingers sinking even deeper into your wet cunt, pumping at a more rapid and decisive pace. When you looked up at him, crossing eyes obscured by desire,you felt all trembling. You unwittingly clasped your cunt around his fingers, moaning against his throbbing flesh. he degraded you slowly, your voice scratche: "Look how good you are … a little slut all to myself, so tight and hungry for my fingers and my cock…" Your face became even redder,but the desire made your skin burn. In a shy voice, you stammered: "I … it drives me crazy to see you so lost to me … with those unkempt tufts on your forehead… your lips pouted with pleasure … you are so fucking beautiful…" he growled softly, his abdomen twitched strongly. "Fuck, I'm going to come…" he gasped. You, without hesitation, continued to suck it harder, feeling it throbbing between your lips. When it exploded in your mouth, its hot seed gently invaded you.

You did not stop: you licked everything, swallowing without leaving a single drop, as his hoarse moans filled the air. he looked at you as you wiped your lips with your tongue, and in his thoughts he screamed:

It's mine. No one will ever touch her again. She was born to be on top of me, to suck my life away. No one has ever done this to me. No.

Meanwhile, his fingers had never stopped-they continued to work at you with fierce dedication. You groaned in disarray, your hips moving by themselves, until a powerful wave swept over you and you screamed against his chest, coming hard against his fingers. Your excitement flooded his hand and part of his abdomen. he watched the scene, rapt and fucking proud, as he kissed your forehead softly and muttered against your trembling skin

"You're perfect, baby, Never stop coming for me like that, ever."

Then he slowly licked his fingers, savoring your taste as he looked at you with a bloody satisfied smile.

he pushed you with sweetness but also a hunger held against the pillows of the bed, his body pressing against yours, warm, alive, eager only for you. He kissed you with an overwhelming passion, his hands clutching your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Between kisses, you whispered breathlessly: "I want you Jake"

He just stood up, his breath broken, his eyes shining with emotion as he stroked your hair. "Are you sure, Baby" he asked in a low voice, his forehead against yours. "What we are going to do... is not just preliminary. It will be real sex." You nod firmly, clutching his face in your hands:

"I want it... but only with you." he closed his eyes for a moment, as if holding back a greater emotion than he did, then kissed you again and praised you in a hoarse whisper "You are the most beautiful thing I could ever have..."

He ducked slightly, driving his hard, pulsating cock between your swollen, wet folds. He slowly slid the tip down your slit, making you moan arching your hips, brushing your clit just to get used to its grandeur. You grabbed his hair with a trembling hand, panting: "Please … I want to hear you inside,Jake" He gently degraded you, murmuring: "Honey … if you feel bad, shake my hand hard. I'll stop, okay?" Nod, completely trusting him. Jake, with extreme delicacy, pushed his cock against your narrow and taut entrance. The head of his cock forced the virgin and hot entrance slowly, making you gasp loudly. "Breathe … relax, love …" he encouraged you, slowly kissing your cheek. When you felt that it filled you, slowly, a mixture of pleasure and a pinch of pain invaded you. he groaned at the feeling so incredibly tight around him, his voice broken: "You're … fucking perfect … so tight for me…" He pressed you against himself, letting you get used to it, and after a few moments you whispered to him in a trembling voice: "You can move… slowly, please…" Jake obeyed, sliding just outside and then slowly pushing into you, a little more each time. You groaned, your hips moving to welcome him better, the body learning its shape, its rhythm. You clasped your legs around her hips, panting: "More … I want you all…" He began to move deeper, pumping his cock into you with slow but increasingly intense thrusts. Your eyes spilt with pleasure, your lips stuttering unchecked: "C - so beautiful… you are so big… I feel everything… you are everywhere inside me…" he degraded you in a hoarse voice, without stopping: "Look how well you take me, Baby!" He kissed you violently, without ceasing to push you, while you screamed at his mouth: "I'm yours ,Jake Forever! Only yours!"

At those words he lost all restraint. He was no longer the sweet and shy guy: his need for you was total, desperate, absolute. He began to hammer you with deep and fast blows, the bed squeaking below you, while every moan, every cry, every dirty kiss you exchanged seemed to enshrine that promise between your bodies and your hearts. His cock pounded inside you mercilessly, filling you up to your stomach, making you lose your breath with every stroke. In the room there were only your moans, the wet sound of bodies meeting, the intoxicating scent of your sweaty skin, the sound of the skin slapping against the skin. And his hoarse dirty voice degrading you unfiltered: "Feel how well you take me, so wet just for me… you are perfect … fucking perfect … you were born to be under me, under my cock…" You screamed with pleasure, without shame, clutching the sheets, the muscles of your thighs trembling under each powerful lunge. he took one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, and with a deep and precise blow he twirled his hips. His cock violently hit your point G. You squirmed on the bed, an excruciating, pleasure-filled cry escaped from your lips: "JJAKEY" Tears rolled down your cheeks, the pleasure was so intense that it made you sob. he, seeing you so vulnerable and overwhelmed, degraded you with a satisfied grin. "God, you are so beautiful as you cry with pleasure for me … I want to see you like this every time I fuck you, every time, baby…" You pulled hard the sweaty tufts that fell on his forehead, trying to hold on to him as the only lifeline. When you opened your eyes slightly, you found him staring at you. His brown eyes had become dark with desire, but also full of love. He could no longer see the little girl chasing frogs in the clearing, no. In front of him was a woman. His woman. In a low voice, trembling and sincere, you whispered against his lips: "I love you ,Jake" His body shook over you. With a stronger hip snap he hit you in even deeper, making you moan loudly, as one of his hands lowered to tease your swollen clit. With a broken voice he degraded you again: "Then come, love… come around my cock as I fill you up, I want to feel you squeeze me tight as I cum inside you, make you mine forever…" In between sobs, you stuttered as you trembled.

"I can't take it anymore... I feel you up... to the stomach... I want you all, inside me... I want to come ... I just want you..." he growled softly upon hearing you, ducked even further on your body, pumping you faster and rougher, while pinching and massaging your clit.

You were breaking under the pleasure, the tension that mounted unstoppable, until you exploded around him with a cry that seemed to tear through the air. You felt his cock throb violently inside you, his hot seed filling you out of control, while he moaned your name against your neck. You could feel it dripping, the hot strands of cum running down your trembling thighs, as he squeezed hard against you, whispering in your ear:

"You are perfect ... You are mine...I love you..." His thoughts were a gentle and fierce storm:

There is nothing else for me. Just her. Just my girlfriend. Just my princess.

And your heart was racing mad thinking the same thing: Just him. Justake Forever.

Jake remained completely buried deep, as you felt his warm, abundant seed flood you, slowly dripping as his labored breathing mingled with yours. He made you moan still faintly just because of the way his cock throbbed inside you, as if his body also wanted to stick together with yours forever. Her hair was tickling on your shoulder, and his face was hidden in your neck, wet with sweat and kisses. In a hoarse, low voice, he whispered to you:

"I don't want to get out of you anymore, bay" As he spoke, he still pushed his cock slightly inside you, making you moan louder, a mixture of pleasure and sweet agony. Then he added dirt, growling softly against the skin: "You are my little slut to spoil... my little doll to fill up until you feel full of me ... You are made only for me, baby..."

Your legs instinctively tightened around his, trapping him even more inside you. he giggled against your neck, his voice glowing with love and pleasure: "Sadist ... You are my personal little sadist, my love..."

After a few minutes, he pushed himself out of you very slowly. His hard, shiny cock slid out, letting go of all the sticky threads of his semen that trickled down your thighs, dirty and shaking.

The sensation made you shiver and smile at the same time. With a small movement of his wand, Jake conjured a damp, warm cloth. With infinite tenderness, he gently cleaned you, caressing the inside of your thigh while planting little kisses between your belly and hips. Then he passed his sweatshirt over your head, dressing you with a tender and protective gesture, pulling you against his chest. Jake held you as if he wanted to merge with you, his scent mixed with yours being the most beautiful thing you'd ever smelled. He wrapped you in his strong arms, like a loving bear, and chuckled against your hair: "I never imagined I'd fall in love with the girl chasing frogs in the enchanted clearing… or the crazy one who chose magical astrophysics just because… I was the professor's student." You burst out laughing and pinched his side. "Conceited! Astrophysics is a serious subject; I didn't pick it because of some idiot Australian obsessed with Quidditch!" Jake laughed softly, his body trembling gently against yours. He propped himself up slightly on one elbow, gazed into your eyes with that warm look, and placed a small, tender kiss on your forehead. With a whisper, he said, "I love you, baby… truly…" Your eyes moistened again, but this time it was only happiness. You smiled at him and replied softly, your heart bursting, "I love you too, Jake… so much…" You cuddled a little longer, while the magic of the Room of Requirement seemed to protect you from everything else in the world. Then, with a small grimace, Jake ran a hand through his still-sweaty hair and mumbled, "Maybe it’s time to ask your brother for permission to date you…" You bit your tongue between your teeth and gave him another pinch on the side, making him jump. "You’re a bit late, Sim. You should have asked before… well, how should I put it… leaving me breathless." Jake laughed heartily, the sound you loved more than anything else, and pulled you back against him, holding you tight as if he wanted to shield you from the whole world. And you fell asleep there, in his arms, knowing you’d never feel more loved than that.

It had been a week since that night when you and Jake had finally let go—body and soul. A week since you realized it wasn’t just desire, wasn’t just magic or attraction: it was love. You had seen it in his eyes, felt it in the way he whispered your name, and above all, in the way he held you afterward as if he never wanted to let you go.

But there was still one last constellation to face… one last complicated spell: your brother, Heeseung.

Fiercely protective, to the point of obsession, he had always been the silent guardian of your freedom. You and Jake hadn’t yet found the courage to tell him, and maybe, deep down, you hoped you wouldn’t have to. But real magic—the powerful kind, the kind that moves planets and hearts—can’t be hidden for long.

That day, you and Jake had changed spots. Your usual corner beneath the Astronomy Tower had been discovered by Jareth—and, along with him, half the Academy. So you moved beneath the Eastern Tower, a quieter place where lanterns floated lazily and the abandoned telescopes made you feel small beneath the universe.

Jake sat cross-legged on the blanket laid out over the enchanted grass, and you, robes slightly parted and hair tousled by the wind, were perched on his strong thighs, your knees on either side of his waist. You were supposed to be studying—or at least trying to.

“Repeat after me: what’s the incantation to summon Aurum Draco, the Golden Dragon constellation?”

“Easy,” you said with a sly smile, “Stellae Draconis, lux eterna, revelate praesentiam tuam.”

He smiled and kissed you softly beneath your ear.

“Very good,” he murmured. “Now, what’s the symbolic meaning of the Nox Corvus constellation?”

You hesitated.

“It symbolizes... the shadow of truth? No, the deceit in knowledge? Or—”

He gently pinched the inside of your thigh. “Getting distracted, aren’t you?”

You laughed softly, your warm breath brushing his neck. He laughed too—that deep, low laugh that made your insides vibrate. It felt like being trapped in an enchanted bubble, where the only reality was his hands gripping your hips and his gaze devouring you like you were the only constellation he ever wanted to memorize.

Then came the difficult question.

“Tell me about Lirae Serpentis.”

Your eyes widened and lit up. That was his favorite. You started gesturing, your hands dancing in the air as you described the shape of the ancient sky-serpent, its connection to healing magic and eternal promises. Jake’s eyes grew glassy as you spoke, enchanted, as if every word you said made the sky more beautiful. Eventually, he couldn’t resist anymore. He pulled you closer and kissed you with all the sweetness—and hunger—that only true love can bring. He held you tight, one hand steady on your back, the other supporting you beneath your thighs. And in that moment, time stopped. A sharp sound, a breath caught. A heartbeat suspended in the air. Heeseung. He had just passed by the tower, but something had made him look—maybe your voice, or maybe just cruel fate. He saw everything: you, gesturing passionately, your body curled over his best friend’s, Jake’s hands on you, your kiss—long, deep, honest. And he… assumed the worst. As if Jake had cast a dark spell on you. As if he had taken advantage of your vulnerability. As if that love was something you needed to be protected from. -Y/n!- he shouted, his voice sharp, like a spell ready to explode. You turned abruptly, heart in your throat. Jake instinctively shielded you with his arms, but Heeseung was already upon you. He shoved Jake back with force, sending him rolling off the blanket. -You’re touching my sister? Have you lost your mind?!- Jake got up immediately, but he didn’t react with anger. He looked Heeseung straight in the eyes, his gaze steady and glassy. “She’s not just your sister,” he said calmly. “She’s the girl I love.” The magic in the air trembled. And that’s when you, still trembling, stood up and placed yourself between them. You looked Heeseung in the eyes and, with the calm of someone who doesn’t ask for permission—but demands respect—you said: “And I love him. He’s who I want to be with. There’s no dark magic here, no trickery—just truth.” Heeseung didn’t respond right away. He simply stared at you both, his chest rising and falling as he tried to separate reality from fear. Finally, he looked away. -Maybe I’m the one who needs to learn a new constellation,- he muttered. -The one where my little sister becomes a woman.- And he walked away, leaving behind a silent trail of shifting stars.

You turned to follow him, your legs still shaking, but Jake stopped you with a whisper and a gentle caress on your wrist. “Let him go, love. He needs time.” You turned to face him, eyes glassy, throat tight with unshed words. You leaned into his chest, listening to the familiar, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You held his hand, searching for an answer that could soothe you, for a truth to lift the weight off your chest. “Did you ruin everything?” you asked in a whisper. Jake didn’t answer right away. He gently lifted your chin with two fingers, those amber eyes you’d known your whole life—since you were a child watching him play Quidditch with your brother, those same eyes that made your heart race once you realized he was no longer just Hee’s friend—looking right into yours. “It takes two,” he said softly. “And we didn’t ruin anything. The heart doesn’t follow rules.” Then he kissed your forehead with a gesture that felt like both a promise and protection. You nodded, closing your eyes. In that moment, even if everything else seemed to be falling apart, you felt safe.

But the days that followed were hard. Heeseung stopped speaking to Jake. He’d said sharp, bitter, angry things. -I never thought you’d betray me like this,” he told him. “You took everything from her. Even her innocence.- Jake didn’t reply right away, but when he did, his voice trembled slightly. “She’s not a child anymore. She’s a woman. And I… I love her. Truly.” When Heeseung found out that even his girlfriend—your best friend—had known all along about the secret meetings, the stolen touches beneath the stars, he felt even more alone. Even his circle of friends had known. And he hadn’t. He felt blind. Betrayed. Foolish. That evening, after training, he went to the Quidditch pitch alone. He always did that when he needed to think, broom slung over his shoulder, eyes turned to the sky. Jake found him there, stopping him before he could disappear into the locker room. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Can we talk?” Heeseung looked at him—tired, sweaty, and wounded in his pride. -What now, need another tip on how to sneak into my sister’s bed?- Jake didn’t flinch. He raised his hands in surrender, that golden-retriever softness trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, that was harsh… but I deserved it. Still—I miss you. I miss talking to you. You’re my best friend, damn it.” Heeseung stared for a few more seconds, then sighed and sat down in the stands. Jake sat beside him, leaving a bit of space between them. “I need you to know something,” Jake said sincerely. “I’m serious about your sister. This isn’t a game. I’ve been thinking about her for months. About how the sky looks at her when she walks. About how she laughs when she messes up a spell. I want the best for her. And I want to be there—for all of it. As his friend. As his partner. As whatever she needs.” Heeseung stayed quiet. Then he turned to him, face more serious than ever. -If I see her cry—even once—because of you… you’re off the team. Got it?- Jake straightened, solemn, hand to forehead. “Yes, Captain.” Heeseung shoved him, laughing, and Jake let himself fall over dramatically. -Idiot,- Hee muttered. Jake sat up again, face suddenly more serious. “Can I make it official? A real date. With your sister.” Heeseung looked at him, sighed, and then glanced up at the sky. -One. And if you take her to some cheap, sleazy place, I swear I’ll hex you into sneezing snot bubbles for a week.- “Deal!” Jake grinned, and the two of them hugged—one of those strong embraces between people who’ve messed up, but don’t want to lose each other. The kind of hug that proves some battles aren’t won with magic, but with the heart.

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