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duhnova · 1 year

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bad girls make good boys cry | joshua hong

pairing: virgin!joshua x experienced!reader (fem reader)

genre: smut, some fluff, academic love

word count: ~3.7k

synopsis: crying was never on joshua’s list of things to expect when he finally lost his virginity, but it’s more blissful than he could’ve imagined.

warning(s): smut under the cut (mdni !!!), established relationship, virgin joshua, dacryphilia (shua kind of full on sobs), hand kink, breeding kink, begging, dick riding, hair pulling, marking kink, spit kink, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie

author notes: this is my retaliation towards @onlyhuis ,and also @lovelyhan ... i innocently self projected in my hannie fic and they in turn ATTACKED ME <3 and now im paying it back hehe.. also thank you @onlymingyus for proofreading for me.

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when you and joshua decided to rent a study room in your university's library, neither of you accounted for how cold it would be. he was dressed in a thin button up shirt with a sweater vest and you had on a skirt, that sat a little high on your hips so the underside of your ass peaked out every time you lent over the table to reach for something you placed methodically out of reach so you could give your boyfriend the perfect view.

“babe..” he mumbles, burying his face back in his textbook to hide his blush, the reading glasses he had on sliding down his nose a little as he reads the words on the page quietly to himself.

“hm?” you plop back down in the chair next to him with the highlighter dedicated to vocabulary words.

“i’m all for you expressing yourself with your clothing but.. don’t you think your skirt is a little short?” he mumbles, side eyeing you as you innocently play with the hem of said skirt.

“maybe i did pull it up a little.. don’t you like it like this though shua?” you look at him with a pout that dripped with fake innocence.

“i.. uh.” he stutters as he looks down at the skirt fanning over your thighs before looking up into your eyes, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as he thinks of something to say that doesn’t make him sound completely stupid.

“maybe a little shorter?” you mumble as you trail your fingers to the waist of your brown plaid skirt to pull it up more, your thighs on full display now as the only thing it covers is the white lacy panties you have on.

“god.. don’t do that..” he mumbles, his fingers gripping the edge of his textbook tightly as he watches your fingers ghost back down to your thighs where you grab the hem of your skirt again.

“why not? too distracting?” your lips quirk up a little as he nods, watching as you slowly lift the hem, your panties barely becoming visible but he’s able to see the edge of a wet spot that has his cock twitching in his loose trousers.

“y/n..” joshua is no stranger to your naked body, seeing it multiple times as you have no shame in changing in front of him, and he’s had his mouth on you once or twice before.

he waited a long time to have his first time be special, wanting it to be with the right person - and if he’s being frank he never thought you’d be that person at first. you were beautiful and way out of his league. yet here you were, sitting next to him, teasing him with the thought of you being dripping wet for him and he’s never felt more sure about someone in his entire life.

“shua..” you flutter your eyelashes at him, knowing you were pushing buttons your boyfriend possibly didn’t know he had.

“we’re in the library.” he mumbles as his eyes flicker off your body to look at the door that was very much locked.

“and we have the room all to ourselves for the next two hours,” you lick your lips as you watch him fidget, the gears turning in his head as he mulled over the idea of you two being in public. “we don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable though..” you place your skirt back over your thighs, pulling it down your hips so it was at an acceptable length. you might’ve liked to push his buttons to see how far you could go but you knew when to stop, your boyfriend’s comfort is more important than anything.

“i-” his hand shoots out and grabs your hand that was still holding on to the hem of your skirt. “i’m comfortable.. i just,” his eyes look at the door before looking down at you again. “the door is locked, right?”

you fought so hard to hide the cheeky smile as you watched your boyfriend's eye’s darken the longer he stared at you. you nod your head quickly, offering to double check it but he doesn’t let you move far as he yanks you into his lap just as you stand up.

“i trust you.” he whispers as he rests his hands on your hips allowing you to situate yourself comfortably on his lap.

“are you sure this is what you want?” you mumble softly as you brush the strands of hair that fell out of his eyes. he gulps quietly as he nods, whispering a quiet ‘yes’ as he squeezes your hips harder.

“i��ve always wanted you..” he whispers as he looks up into your eyes, his eyes completely blown with lust but his voice was steady with confidence. “need you so bad now.”

“well i’m right here, baby.” you whisper against his lips before you’re kissing him hard enough to bruise his lips. your hips experimentally rock against his as he groans into your mouth, a shock of pleasure shooting through his body as his cock twitches in his pants.

your body was far from foreign to joshua as his hands began to rub up and down your sides, his warm fingers slipping under your shirt before his hands dip under the waistband of your skirt so he can get two handfuls of your ass. his hands were warm and his nails dug into your plump flesh deliciously, ripping a quiet moan from you that broke the heavy makeout session.

“why’d you pull away.” he pants quietly as he watches you through hooded eyes. he continued to knead at your ass as you bent over to the side to dig through your bag.

“condom..” you mumble as you fished for the gold foil you always carried in your bag that you’d take to joshua's place just in case.

“why?” he whined a little desperately. “you don’t want me to fill you up?” you could hear the pout in his voice as you froze, blood rushing to your face as your body began to heat up.

“i-” he cuts you off by jerking your body so you are sitting up straight again.

“i overheard you talking with your friends a while back about getting creampied..” his face began to heat up as he couldn’t make eye contact with you at first. “i.. i had to look it up but, i wanna creampie you.” he swallows the lump in his throat.

“fuck..” you groan quietly biting your lip. the idea of him fucking you raw and cumming in you had a new wave of arousal soak your panties. “okay.” you whisper, burying your fingers in his hair again. moaning quietly, joshua's eyes flutter as he lets you tug his head back enough to give you a better angle to kiss him.

you kiss him a little softer this time as you settle down on his lap, your warm cunt pressed fully against his painfully hard erection. you can’t help but giggle into the kiss when you feel him twitch below you before you start to rock your hips slowly. joshua has always had impeccable self control, being able to make you cum on his tongue, fingers, and thigh plenty of times without so much as breaking a sweat - however, right now all of that is out the window as you make feelings he was unfamiliar with rush through his body.

“y/n..” he moans in between kisses, his hips sloppily bucking up against yours when you barely lift them to reposition yourself. gasping at the friction and force behind his hips you grip his hair tighter, the moan leaving your boyfriend was sinful. “sorry..”

“it’s okay, you're just desperate aren’t you baby?” you smile at him as you pet his hair gently, soothing the sting from you pulling it. he nods his head quickly as he begins to roll his hips up into yours experimentally.

“yes.. god yes.” he sounded desperate as he squeezed your ass cheeks harder. “please..”

“please what baby?” you watched the way he bit his lip shyly. “use your words shua, i won’t do anything unless you ask for it.”

“please fuck me already.” he sounded breathless as he watched your eyes sparkle, the lust drowning out your irises as you sat up on your knees. joshua whines quietly at the loss of friction. “why-”

“be a good boy and undo your pants for me baby.” he almost mewls at the words ‘good boy’ before he slips his hands out from your skirt to make quick work at undoing his belt and pants so he can push them down his thighs enough to give you access to his cock.

“are you gonna keep your skirt on?” he licks his lips, watching the way you pull your skirt up higher on your torso so he can see the soaked lace of your panties peeking out from the bottom of the plaid material.

“if you want me to take it off i will.” he shakes his head as he continues to watch your fingers hook onto the waistband of your panties, pulling the ruined material slowly down your thighs where you lift one leg at a time to pull them fully off.

“fuck..” he whispers at the sight of your bare pussy glistening in the poor study room light. “so pretty.”

“you think?” you giggle when he looks at you incredulously.

“do i think so? of fucking course i do, every inch of you is beautiful.” you can’t help but scoff playfully, trying to hide the bashful smile threatening to make its way out.

“keep talking like that and i’ll gag you with these.” you hold your soaked panties up before balling them up and tucking them into the pocket of your jacket.

“i wouldn’t be opposed to that.” he mumbles as his eyes drop back to your hands that are gingerly wrapped around the waistband of his boxers.

“are you ready?” you look back up at him again, wanting one more verbal confirmation before you continue.

“yes, i’ve been ready.” you give him a sweet smile before you finally tug his boxers down, freeing his cock that springs up and slaps against his sweater vest.

“now that's pretty.” you lick your lips and wrap your fingers around the base, squeezing it gently causing joshua to hiss and buck his hips up.

“god..” his ears get red as he tries to keep his eyes open to watch how your fingertips barely touch as you jerk your hand slowly up and down the full length of his cock. your thumb would come up to rub at his slit every couple strokes and every time he almost sobs in pleasure.

“tell me when to stop.” you lean up to kiss the underside of his jaw that was exposed to you after he threw his head back from the sheer force of the pleasure just your hand was causing. joshua was always a giver, he never expected, let alone asked you to go down on him after he had his chance to go down on you - so the feeling of your hand was new, and the look of adoration on your face when you saw his cock for the first time had his head spinning.

it was almost like time slowed down when you rubbed the tip of his cock through your folds, his precum mixing with your juices. joshua can’t help but groan lowly at the feeling of your warmth before he's moaning louder when his tip becomes enveloped by your pussy.

“fuck!” you stop moving when he moans out loudly, his fingers coming to dig into your hips. “slow.. go slow please.” you relax realizing you didn’t hurt him. everything was new to him and he didn’t want to cum just from the feeling of your walls hugging his tip.

you began to sink down on him slower, his tip dragging agonizingly slow against your walls as you took a couple minutes to finally bottom him out inside you. joshua's legs shook gently along with yours, his from the overwhelming feeling of being squeezed by your pussy and you from never feeling so full before.

“so.. big..” joshua groans quietly at the praise. you both took a couple minutes to recuperate before you slowly lifted your hips until just the tip was still inside and just when joshua went to question what you were doing you slammed your hips back down, drawing the loudest moan from joshua you had ever heard.

“ah!~” his eyes roll at the sensation, his words coming out jumbled as you do that a couple more times before finally setting a steady pace.

“that's it baby, let me take care of you.” joshua was completely relaxed in his chair, his eyes closed and his teeth digging into his lip as he tried to control his sounds so no one came knocking to investigate.

“so, so warm.. you're so warm.” he babbles, his nails leaving crescent shapes in your hips.

“am i?” you tangle your fingers in his hair again as he nods his head. “tell me more baby.” you whisper before moaning loud when he bucks his hips up in time with you pulling his hair.

“be.. be good.” you struggle to talk as his hips keep instinctively bucking up into yours, his control slipping even more. “so bad.” you mumble as you let his hips jerk you forward against his body where he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you close.

“‘m not bad.” he whines trying to bury his face in your neck to muffle his moans more.

“you’re such a bad boy,” you smirk at the way his cock twitches inside of you. “”so so bad shua, bad little whore who likes to get fucked in public.” you kiss sloppily at his jaw.

“n-no, ngh~” he lets out a strangled moan when your pussy clenches around him when he hits that spongy spot inside of you that has your toes curling and your hand gripping his hair tighter.

“can’t believe you wait this long just to have me fuck you in the university library shua.” you pull your head back enough to see his eyes were glassed over as he moaned louder, any shame of being heard going out the window. “you want me to fuck you in public more baby?”

joshua nodded his head quickly, his voice lost to the constant moans and whines escaping his mouth. you smirk at the sight of tears finally welling in his eyes, the sadistic side of you coming out a little as you tug his hair more, jerking his head back and causing his mouth to fall open. taking a second to just admire the sight in front of you, you felt your heart swell at the fact he trusted you enough to make him feel this good.

without wasting another beat you reach forward and nip at his tongue that is sticking out now. his eyes flutter and cross for a second before they close completely when you begin to suck on his tongue.

everything was beginning to build up inside you both, his moans were beginning to get lost in his throat as his cock twitched more with each bounce of your hips. your legs were beginning to shake from exhaustion and from the building orgasm that was winding up quicker and quicker the more his tip hit your g-spot.

“are you close, baby?” you whisper after letting his tongue go.

“i-” his sentence is cut off with another wave of moans and whines as he squeezes his arms around you tighter.

“i think you are.” you try to laugh but it comes out as a breathy moan instead as you rest your arms around his shoulders as you let your hips slow down a little.

“no no no.”’ he begs as he starts to buck his hips into yours more quicker. he didn’t want the pleasure to stop as he found his own rhythm and confidence in his hips.

“fuck, thats it baby,” you moan louder than you have. “right there shua! shit!” you whine, burying your face into his neck.

joshua continued to thrust his hips up into you fast, his cock leaking precum into you until he felt a strange feeling building up his legs and back that caused his hips to stutter.

“gonna cum?” you sit back up enough to see his nose scrunched up as he bit hard into his bottom lip to stifle his sounds. “that's it baby.” you begin to bounce quickly again, taking over the reins as you helped him reach his orgasm quicker.

“fuck! god please, i’m gonna cum inside.. let… let me come inside. please!” joshua bubbles and tears up more as his first ever orgasm was right there.

“cum shua, please please, cum inside me.” your orgasm was right there as well, the familiar warmth was filling your body as you leant forward to be pushed up against his body again. “give me your cum… your.. your.. fuck please baby. you feel so good.”

with a strangled sob, joshua buries his face in your neck as he unloads his cum deep inside of you. your own orgasm finally washes over you as you sit fully on his cock, letting your pussy clench and unclench around him until he is milked dry.

a quiet sniffle followed by tears hitting your neck causes you to panic and come out of your post orgasm haze quickly as you jerk away from joshua's body to see his eyes welled with tears and his eyes still hazy from his orgasm.

“joshua? joshua baby.” your voice was soft as you cupped his cheeks to tilt his head up so he was looking at you. “what's wrong baby? did.. did you not want his after all?”

“no.. no i,”’ he sniffles as he closes his eyes and lets you gently wipe his tears away before you kiss his eyes and nose gently. “just a little overwhelmed i guess.” he mumbles before his eyes flutter open to look up at you again.

“maybe doing this here wasn’t the best idea.” you gently rub your thumbs against his cheeks.

“i couldn’t have thought of a better place actually.” he offers you a genuine smile, causing you to laugh quietly.

“really? you never imagined your first time being in a bed?”

“i’m not that boring,” he pouts a little, his mind coming out of the haze. “but i never did imagine my first time being in our universities library.” he laughs quietly before groaning at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your warm pussy.

“i’m glad this was memorable for you.” you lean forward to peck his nose again before finally standing up, wincing at the slight sting between your legs.

“it was perfect.” his hands rubbed gently at your thighs as you stood in front of him for a couple seconds before shuffling out of his way so he could stand up as well to situate himself back into his pants.

“that makes me so happy.” you smile brighter, grabbing your still wet panties from your pocket you slide them back on to make sure none of his cum drips out of you. “i'm hungry now, how does burgers and a milkshake sound?”

“sounds amazing,” joshua begins to pack your stuff up, handing you things so you can put them in your bag that sat on the ground between your chairs. “lets find a bathroom too… fuck.” he groans when he looks over to see you bent over, putting your bags away.

“what?” you stand up straight and tilt your head back to look at him as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“pull your skirt back down baby..” he couldn’t make eye contact with you as he stared at the wall ahead of you.

“what? you just fucked my brains out and you're still embarrassed to see my ass?” you smile playfully as you wiggle your skirt back down to cover everything.

“first of all, you rode me till i cried. second of all, i'm not embarrassed to see your ass… i just left hand prints on it that's all.” he mumbles the last part but you heard him loud and clear as you walked towards the door.

“you what?” you turned and lifted your skirt like you were gonna be able to see them. “show me!”

“show you?” he looked at you wide eyed. “how?”

“take a picture! i wanna see my boyfriend's hand prints on my ass.” you pout as you turned and put your ass on display so he could pull his phone out and snap a picture really quick.

“here.” he mumbles as he shows you his phone screen, where your ass was beautifully on display with two pretty red hand prints on it.

“woah,” you could feel your face heating up again. “keep that.” you go to hand him his phone back before pulling it back again. “actually, let me make it your wallpaper.”

“no no no,” he tried to get it back from you but you just giggly evilly while keeping it out of his reach.

“don’t you want everyone to see how pretty you make my ass look?”

“fuck no.” he grabs you by the waist and pulls you back against his body. “only mine to see.” he pouts as he looks over your shoulder to see you had closed his phone already.

“i’m only yours baby.” you giggle as you hand him his phone back and kiss his cheek before wiggling out of his grasp. “now let’s go find that bathroom and get some food.”

feedback and reblogs greatly appreciated!

#svthub #joshua smut #seventeen smut #joshua fluff #seventeen fluff #joshua imagines #seventeen imagines #joshua scenarios #seventeen scenarios #joshua hong

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mangomonk · 1 year

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i've been dreaming

↳ summary: read this drabble and pt. 1 first! remus deals with the repercussions of falling in love too late. ↳ content: angst, happy ending, mentions of eating/sleeping properly ↳ a/n: get comfy, this is a long one! i really appreciated and loved each comment from pt. 1, it made my day to see y'all scream heartbreak. would love to hear your thoughts on this one : D anyways, i went back and forth on my characterization of remus a million times, but i hope this version of him resonates and i hope you enjoy :") tense/grammar is all over the place, minimal proofreading but i've stared at this for too long. p.s. i'm kinda proud af about connecting the titles, they're from ivy by frank ocean.

Remus has been dreaming. Every time she had looked at him, he had felt like he was dreaming.

There wasn't a moment in particular that Remus could name when he realized he wanted her to look at him. He was in the middle of it before he even knew he had begun, though maybe a part of him had known it would have been futile to resist when she looked at him like that.

Or maybe it had been an accumulation of moments of Remus longing for her to look at him.

Maybe it had been when they had started their fourth study date together when Remus had decided he needed to act like a normal person and have strict boundaries instead of casting sidelong glances at her over the top of his book. He couldn't help but look at her as he tried to figure out why in the world a girl like her would ever agree to date him in the first place — he had only really asked so that he could be rejected and put the whole thing behind him.

But it wasn't his fault that the more glances he stole at her, the more he noticed the way her expression changed with each new story she read. It wasn't his fault that her lips parted when she was concentrating too hard on Ancient Runes. It wasn't his fault that her lips were the same color as his mother's tulips. But she never noticed when — or how — he looked at her, to his mingled relief and disappointment. It wasn't his fault at all, he reasoned — anyone would notice these things if they just looked at her properly. It baffled him a little how no one else seemed to have noticed this things about her yet.

It had been that day that Remus had decided he needed to start acting normal. He needed to learn how to control his eyes before he bore holes through her face. So he had focused on reviewing his Magical Theory textbook. Even though he had been rereading the same line for over five minutes. Even though he was so painfully aware that if he moved his leg out just slightly, his knees would knock against hers. Even though he could begin to feel her glancing up at him from across the table. When had he become so attuned to her gaze?

But he hadn't looked up, frustratingly going against every fiber in his body, because he needed to be normal and have boundaries and this was temporary. Even if she was looking at him like that. Remus Lupin, with his ever so strong willpower, hadn't looked up to meet her not-so-secret secret glances and had scribbled a note on his scrap of parchment and slid it over.

Hogsmeade this weekend?

Or maybe it had been when they had gone to Hogsmeade, the first time they had done anything together outside of studying. Asking her to go was a stroke of madness, but Remus had reasoned it to be a healthy show of their relationship, no matter how temporary it was supposed to be. It wouldn't make sense if they were dating and only ever studied together, right?

Right.

He had thought about sending an owl to cancel, even as he tried on Sirius's shirt for the second time — the night before, he had come to the sobering realization that all his clothes were plain. He had thought about telling her that he caught a cold, even as he let James slather Euphemia's silkifying potions through his hair. He had still been thinking about canceling even as his feet took him to the entrance gate—

—and she had been wearing a skirt.

It had been one of those long and flowy Muggle skirts — Remus had never before paid attention to women's fashion, but after that moment, he realized that maybe he ought to subscribe to one of Lily's Witch Weekly magazines so that he could get her more skirts, or rather, more of anything, he thought she'd look pretty in anything. Had he said pretty out loud?

Remus Lupin didn't have butterflies in his stomach, he had damn hummingbirds.

"Hi," he had said, a little too tersely and sharply.

"Hi," she had said back, all smiles. Despairingly, he had noticed that she was wearing lipstick. When he stared at her a little dumbly and didn't say anything back, her smile turned nervous as she fidgeted with the collar of her blouse. Impulsively, his eyes darted to follow the motion. "So... Hogsmeade?"

He wasn't going to tell her she looked pretty because he had laid out his boundaries. And if he started, he would never stop— "You look preautiful," he had blurted, stricken.

Her eyes had widened a fraction before she broke into a laugh. A proper laugh, not the quiet, library huff type of laughs he had grown fond of hearing. The warmth in his chest had spread all over and it had felt like it got to his head as a fog, rendering him unable to think. Remus had no idea what to do with the new, dizzying knowledge that she looked absurdly stunning when she was laughing, but all he could think about during their walk to Hogsmeade was how he might make her laugh again.

Or maybe it had been the first time he had properly introduced her to the Marauders. She had stepped closer to him instinctively — perhaps nervously, because Sirius was staring at her too appraisingly with narrowed eyes — when the back of her knuckles had brushed against his. Remus had nearly jumped out of his skin. Sirius's gaze had darted to him swiftly, his gray eyes knowingly bright with interest.

"Pleased to meet you," Sirius had said a moment later, his face breaking into a warm smile, but Remus wasn't paying attention anymore. He was just trying to figure out how he might hook his pinky with hers.

All this to say that there hadn't been one particular moment Remus Lupin could have pinpointed that had sealed his fate of wanting to be under her gaze.

The first time she looked at him, it was the start of nothing and when she looked away that night, it was the end of everything.

Remus wished she yelled at him. Hell, he even wished she had called him a monster, cursed him, hexed him. Remus thought that he would have been happier if she looked at him with contempt and disgust in her eyes, which only weeks ago had been his greatest fear when he considered telling her about his lycanthropy. The thought back then had kept him up at night, but Remus found himself dreaming for it now. Anything if it meant that he didn't hurt her the way he had. He found himself dreaming that she would just look at him again.

If Remus thought he had been panicked that night, it was nothing compared to the next day when he realized she was avoiding him. She hadn't shown up to the Great Hall — Remus knew this because he got there the moment the doors opened to make sure to catch her — and she didn't show up to any of their classes for the remainder of the day. The Marauder's Map showed that she was unmoving in her dormitory. When Remus finally did catch sight of her the next day in the Great Hall, he burst to his feet but froze a moment later. She walked past him, her expression one of unfamiliar blankness.

"Y/N!" He called, lurching forward towards her.

When she turned away from him to avoid meeting his gaze, Remus felt something like dismay sink so heavily and swiftly in his chest, like a stone thrown into a calm lake. The idea that Y/N wouldn’t look at him again drove him half-mad with a panicked disquietude that sent him scrambling to find a way to talk to her again.

He tried in the Great Hall, but she stopped coming. She would arrive just late enough that class would start and would disappear the moment class ended. She stopped going to the library. Even with the Marauder's Map, he had no luck. The closer he tried to get to her, the further she stayed away.

Remus thought he was dreaming when he saw her alone in the corridor one Hogsmeade weekend when he couldn't bring himself to leave.

"Y/N," he said instinctively, hopefully. She looked up, her surprised expression immediately shuttering close. "Can we talk? Just for a moment?" He asked, stepping towards her. When she didn't move away, he straightened, encouraged.

“I know,” Remus began, his throat bobbing as he swallowed back the jolt of despair when he realized that she still wasn't looking at him. The despair only grew into a gnawing worry when he noticed the way shadows lined her eyes, the planes of her face hollower. Was she taking care of herself? "I know you don't want to see me anymore, cariad, but—"

"You don't get to call me that anymore."

He sucked in a breath, steeling himself before continuing. "Okay," he whispered, "Okay. I know. And I'm sorry, Y/N. I've never been more sorry in my life. And I won't ever ask you to forgive me. But, but I'm selfish because I want you to know that it was real for me."

She looked like she was folding in on herself as she clutched her forearms. "It wasn't real. You don't actually like me, Rem— Lupin," she said evenly, her tone neither cold nor warm. "It could have been anyone else."

"No, I do, I do," Remus lurched forward, desperate and earnest and wishing. "I like you, and maybe it wasn't real in the beginning, but it's real now. Like isn't even a strong enough word for how I feel about you, Y/N. I lo—"

"Don't." At the harsh steeliness of her tone, Remus froze, stricken, his heart dropping to his feet. "Don't say it."

"But it's true," he whispered entreatingly, imploring her to look at him again. "It's been true for awhile now."

"I don't believe you."

Each word hit him in the chest like a sharp pang, the stricken feeling in his chest clenching around his heart. "Okay," Remus swallowed back the crumpling sense of despair as he nodded earnestly. "That's okay," he whispered, as if not to spook a wild animal. "I... I'll show you." He had so much he wanted to say, so much that he wanted to show her. If he had been honest since the beginning, he wouldn't have hurt her. But maybe if he was honest now, it wasn't too late — he could still fix things. "You have my heart, Y/N," he continued softly, "—and you can break it, if you want, if you'll give me another chance—"

"I don't need it," she said quietly, looking away from him again. "Nor do I want it."

— — — — —

Remus stopped dreaming as he stopped sleeping.

"You should get some sleep tonight, mate," James said as he edged near his friend. "Full moon coming up."

Remus grunted in his response as he continued writing at his desk.

"Prongs is right," Sirius agreed, exchanging a quick look with the others. "She'll come around soon, anyone with eyes can see how you look at her. And how she looks at you."

"Why don't you talk to her again?" James suggested gently as he sat on the edge of Remus's bed.

"She doesn't want to," Remus said quietly, a blot of ink pooling at the end of his quill as he tried not to think about their last conversation.

"Why not write her a letter then?" Sirius asked. "Look, Moony, we're worried about you..."

A letter, Remus thought dimly as he stared down at the parchment in front of him.

Cariad, he began before setting his quill down to stare at the word. The first time he had called her cariad had been a slip of tongue. When he was younger, before his father had burnt himself out trying to find a cure to his lycanthropy, his father used to call his mother cariad. It was like a gentle period at the end of each sentence, an endearment that said everything all at once.

It had slipped into the end of his sentence one morning when he had asked her if she wanted orange juice or apple juice. Maybe it was too early to confess love, but it had slipped out, subtle and quiet like their time together.

"What's that?" She had asked, her attention now caught. "Car-iad," she said slowly, as she tried pronouncing the word carefully. Remus had thought he could have kissed her then.

"It's Welsh," he had said, keeping his tone light and casual as he reached for her cup.

But she had been as attentive as ever, her eyes seeing right through him as they tracked across his face carefully. It didn't help that he could feel his ears begin to burn. Despite himself though, Remus delighted being under her attention, and had relished it even as she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "For?"

Remus had schooled his expression carefully. "For 'Y/N can never pick between orange juice and apple juice,'" he had deadpanned, inwardly delighting in the way her lips twitched as she huffed, unconvinced.

"Today is an orange juice day," she had declared finally. Remus had bit back a smile as he poured her juice. When she took it, she had smiled at him around the rim of the cup. "Thank you, cariad."

Remus had thought that he was dreaming.

Remus picked up his quill again and got a fresh sheet of parchment. Dove, he began again before promptly crossing it out. A new piece of parchment. Y/N, he started again. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. He missed saying her name. When the squeeze in his chest got too tight to ignore, he set his quill down and rested his forehead against his desk and closed his eyes. He had hurt her so terribly, the person he loved. And Remus resented himself for it. He didn't have the right to call her cariad or dove or darling or anything anymore. He didn't have the right to wallow in pity. He didn't have the right to try to fix things when she so clearly didn't want him anymore.

"Remus Lupin," a voice snapped sharply as the door to the dormitory flew open with a boom. "How could you—"

“Lily!” James blurted in clear alarm. "Lily, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here because you lot have really gone too far this time," Lily seethed, her eyes as fiery as her hair as she stalked into the room. "Remus, I thought you were better than this! Y/N hasn't—"

"Lily!" James jumped to his feet in a rare show of courage against the witch. He let out a nervous laugh, but to his credit, stood firm even as Lily rounded on him. “You’re making him feel worse!”

For a moment, Lily turned on James, an incredulous expression on her face before her gaze slid over to Remus, who still hadn’t looked up during the exchange. She faltered, her scowl softening as her gaze darted back to James who gave her an encouraging nod. But then the fiery-haired girl straightened. “He should feel bad,” she admonished, though the venom had begun to dissipate from her voice.

“And he does,” Sirius supplied helpfully from his corner of the room. “Moony hasn’t really, er, moved or spoken in days, really. We’re all getting concerned.”

"Well neither has Y/N," Lily grumbled, though her tone was beginning to soften rapidly.

This caught his attention. Remus lifted his head to look at her. "Has she been taking care of herself?"

Lily narrowed her eyes at him, a crease forming between her brow as she looked at him assessingly. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

Remus didn't say anything to this as he turned to rummage through his desk. "Will you make sure she eats and sleeps properly?" He said before finding the stack of parchment he had been looking for.

"It took me nearly an hour to get her to understand that I wasn't a part of the mess you had created," Lily said, though not harshly. Remus ignored the look of pity in her eyes as he busied himself with cobbling together a few more sheets of parchment. "I think you should be the one making sure she's alright."

At this, he paused to look down at the parchment. “She doesn’t want to be in the same room as me, let alone speak with me,” Remus pointed out, his voice unsteady. In a quieter voice, he added, “She can’t even stand looking at me.”

The room fell silent. Then finally, Lily spoke up again. "Fine. I'll check up on her but not for you, but because I'm her friend. And if you ever considered her at least a friend, you ought to do it too sometime and have a proper conversation with her."

Remus bit the inside of his cheek as he turned to proffer the stack of parchment to Lily. "Can you also give these notes to her? It's for Ancient Runes. I charmed the handwriting so she won't know it's from me, but—"

"Remus," Lily sighed, but took the notes anyways as she looked down at his desk curiously before sitting down on the edge of his bed. A pause. Remus could feel her eyes seeing right through him. "Were you ever going to tell her?"

Remus tried not to look like he was unraveling. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "I wanted to and I didn't want to all at once all the time."

He had thought about telling her before. But to do so meant that he would have to tell her about his condition, and that had sent him into a stricken spiral every time he had thought about it. He had thought that if he told her, she would look at him differently, with pity or repulsion in her eyes. He had been so afraid, so, terrified, of that look that every time the truth nearly bubbled out of his throat, he'd choke on it. But now Remus knew that the worse thing wasn't that she would look at him like he was a monster. It was that she wouldn't look at him at all.

It had always felt like he was running on stolen time, but each grain of sand in their hourglass had felt so startling incandescent that it had been easy to pretend that they weren't trapped in a fragile glass of his own making.

Every moment he had thought to tell her, she would turn and look at him with such fond adoration that Remus would swallow the words back in. She always made for such an arresting sight that Remus felt his breath still as affection would bloom so violently, so dizzingly, so distractingly, in his chest that it became hard to say anything at all.

He was distracted by the way little crinkles would form on her nose when she was thinking too hard. He was distracted by the way he could hear her smile in her words. He was distracted by the way she breathed and walked and loved, slow and steady, to a silent metronome.

And the honest truth was that Remus was more than happy to be distracted by her.

— — — — —

When Remus woke up from a dreamless sleep the morning after the full moon, he found himself, predictably, in a bed in the Infirmary. It must have only been dawn — he could tell the room was still dim behind his eyelids as he did his mental check of his limbs. No new scars please, he thought wryly once he confirmed all his limbs were in place, albeit sore and strained. Remus sighed. Then came the more dreaded question.

"Did anyone get hurt?" He asked, his voice hoarse from his transformation.

He expected one of the boys to respond, but when no response came, his eyes flew open in a panic. They normally stayed the night in the Infirmary to get their checkup from Madam Pomfrey — Remus knew they were just there to keep him company, though they always deflected when he tried to usher them back to the dorms — and they were normally the first to assure him that no one had gotten hurt. Alarmed, Remus sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed hastily to look around, his joints groaning in protest.

"Are you hurt?" A voice next to him asked.

He was dreaming again.

Y/N was sitting in a chair next to his bed, alarm quickly breaking through the remnants of the sleepiness that clung onto her eyes as she scanned him hastily as if to ensure he was still in one piece. There was an imprint of his blanket on her cheek. Remus's fingers twitched to rub it when she spoke up again. "Should I call Madam Pomfrey?"

So it wasn't a dream.

At the sobering realization, Remus shook his head hastily. "No, I, uh, I'm fine," he said, the words faltering on his lips. Suddenly he felt very seen. He had never wanted her to see him after a transformation, especially not then, when he was all fresh scars and worn bones. He felt like a shell of himself. "What are you doing here?" He asked quietly, fixing his gaze on his hands and noticing a new scar across the back of his hand, still red and shallow. He couldn't quite look at her now as shame and mortification flooded his system.

For the first time in his life, he wished she wasn't looking at him.

"You guys normally come back earlier on full moons," she said, still looking at him. "I was worried that..." She fell silent. So she had even known their schedule, he despaired.

"I see," Remus said tightly, feeling drained.

When he didn't say anything else, she spoke up again tentatively. "Sirius told me to tell you that no one got hurt—"

Chagrin and shame roiled in his stomach as he stared at the new scar on his hand. "You can go back now," he interrupted, grasping the blanket tightly. He wished she wasn't looking at him, he wished that he didn't have a new scar, he wished that the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.

He wished this was all just a bad dream.

"I'll go if you want me to go," she said quietly. Remus couldn't tell what expression she was making because he couldn't bare to look at her. Pity, fear, disgust. He was sure he'd never recover if she was looking at him like that— "But I... I don't want to go."

His gaze darted from his hands to her face. She was biting on the inside of her cheek, her eyes wide and imploring and distracting. Slowly, it became easy to breathe again. The imprint of the blanket was fading from her cheek. Remus still wanted to rub it off.

"Okay," he acquiesced, the word coming out as a soft breath. She relaxed back into the chair. "I never wanted you to see me like this," he murmured quietly, feeling all too cracked open under her gaze.

"Remus," she began, also whispering as if not to break the fragile peace between them. His heart stuttered dangerously at the sound of his name from her lips, but he shouldered forward, adamant to not let himself start dreaming again.

"Have you... been well?" Remus asked, first as a deflection before he took in the shadows on her face. It was like once he started, he couldn't stop. "Have you been eating properly and sleeping enough—"

"Remus," she said again, this time more urgently and softly. "I got your letters."

Remus paused, his dry throat clicking as he swallowed. "So you knew the notes were from me," he murmured, rubbing at the base of his neck. "Sorry, I thought they would help, but I'll stop if you're uncomfortable—"

"No, I mean, I got your letters," she said, reaching into her book bag.

To his horror, she pulled out a stack of parchment. Some of them had were heavily creased from being balled up, but someone had carefully straightened them and piled them up. "You weren't supposed to see those," he blurted, mortified now. "I threw those away."

"I know," she said, her gaze fixed on the letters. They weren't really letters at all — he had never been able to get past how to address her. He could catch glimpses of his chicken scratch handwriting. Y/N. Dove. My sweet girl. Cariad. My love. Cariad. Cariad. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. "Lily gave them to me. She also gave me this—" Carefully, Y/N pulled another familiar piece of parchment from her bag. This one was filled and messy with different colored inks across time.

Remus's mouth went dry. He didn't need to look at it to know what it was because he had it memorized.

Ketchup and pepper with eggs (prefers sunny-side up)

Three younger brothers

Likes mum's knitted sweater the most -> owl mum how she did it??

No favorite color, but it's probably green and yellow??

Needs a midday nap most days

Likes long skirts (or is it because I complimented it?)

Y/N is Sisyphus and the question of orange juice or apple juice is the rock

Peonies

Chocolate frogs (non-jumping)

Always needs hair ties -> ask Lily if Hogsmeade has any

Tea = 3 sugars, lots of milk (prefers juice though)

Give notes for Ancient Runes

Find out if there are hair tying charms

Jane Austen

Christmas ideas: skirts, cat, necklace, journal, hair ties

"You weren't supposed to see that," he said again dumbly.

"I know," she said again. A pause. "I believe you."

Remus's head snapped up to see that she was looking at him. He was dreaming again. He shook himself out of it. "No, you don't have to," he said hastily.

"No, Remus, I believe you that it was real," she said, her words choppy as she wrung her hands together. He wanted to reach out and cover her hand with his but instead he sat perfectly still. "But I— But I was so hurt by you," she whispered.

"I'm so sorry," he said with every fiber of his being. "I was afraid and selfish and I hurt you and there's no forgiving that."

"But Remus," she said, looking up at him finally. "I've missed you. I miss you so much and I don't know what to do—" Her voice cracked. Remus felt like something in him cracked open again.

"Oh, cariad," he breathed. "Can I—" He faltered, but miraculously, she picked up on what he meant. Wordlessly, she surged into his arms and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe again. "I'm so sorry, my sweet girl," he murmured into her hair as he breathed in her familiar scent. "If... if you'll have me again, can we start over?"

"Only if it's for real this time," she mumbled into his shoulder with a dry huff of a laugh as she clutched him back. God, he missed her laugh.

He pressed a kiss against her temple, the first of many. "It's real. Very real."

Remus prayed he wasn't dreaming anymore.

— — — — —

a/n: thanks for reading :^) would love to hear thoughts! my masterlist here

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mytheoristavenue · 3 months

Text

MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader - Smile with your Eyes

Summary: Who knew one compliment would turn Shoji's whole world on its head?

Warnings: Fluff, light angst, short, not proofread, gn!reader

"You should smile more, you have a lovely smile." The comment caught Shoji so off guard, he stopped in his tracks, doing a double take as you passed by. He wasn't even fully convinced his mind hadn't made it up to torment him over his crush on you.

"Did you say something?" He asked, paused in the hallway, tilting his head when you looked back at him with a warm smile.

"I said you have a lovely smile, Shoji." You repeated sweetly before turning back to go on your way.

Little did you know, that small compliment set Shoji's world on fire. When had you seen him without a mask? He couldn't for the life of him remember. He racked his brain trying to figure it out, deconstructing the praise until it turned onto an insult. Were you mocking him? You'd never do that, right?

Regardless, Shoji continued to stew on your comment for days. He began to avoid you, look over his shoulder, even when he knew he was alone, worried you might be spying on him. He was so paranoid.

"Shoji," You stood in front of him, his back against a wall- literally. "Are you mad at me?" You blinked up at him, head tilted slightly.

"W-Well-" He started, feeling heat creep up the column of his neck. "I-I..."

"I'm sorry if I did something to hurt your feelings, just tell me what it was so I don't do it again," you explained matter of factly. "I care about you, you're my friend and I want to make sure I'm not accidentally repeatedly hurting your feelings. You had always been a very straightforward person, not seeing the point in beating around the bush. This was the most efficient way to fix the issue in your mind.

Despite your frankness, Shoji was further confused by the conviction behind your words. You can't possibly be this oblivious to his reasons for avoiding you unless he'd misunderstood everything all along. "Y-You said I had a lovely smile..." He finally confessed, rigid against the wall, feeling silly for letting someone half his size pin him without even physically touching him.

"I'm sorry," you promptly apologize. "I didn't think saying so would upset you," you admit with a serious but kind expression. "I actually still don't but my mother always says 'it doesn't matter how your words hurt someone, if they do, you just apologize.'"

Your reaction caught him by surprise. So it wasn't a prank then. Boy, did he feel silly. He raised a dupli-mouth to explain, only to be interrupted by your index finger against his lips. "I don't have to understand how what I said hurt you, just that it did and that I shouldn't repeat it."

"Wait," he finally said, hands finding your shoulders, yanking away when you jump in surprise. "D-Did you mean it...?"

"Of course I did," you answered bluntly, peering up at him, relaxing under his touch. "I wouldn't have said it otherwise. I think you have a bright and genuine smile. It lights up my day when I see it."

You could almost see the blush rise up over the hem of his mask as he swallowed, eyeing you cautiously. "But you've even seen me without a mask," he argues weakly. "Y-You haven't have you?"

"No," you confirm, feeling the tension release from his muscles. "But I don't see what that has to do with it." Shoji was beginning to wonder if you were stupid, or if you were talking about his dupli-mouths when suddenly, you shifted, raising the textbook in your hands to cover your face from the nose down.

He couldn't keep from melting at the warm, kind grin that cracked across your face from behind the book. Though he couldn't see your lips, he didn't miss the way your eyes sparkled and the corners of your eyes crinkled, pushed up by your glowing cheeks. "When someone smiles, you can see it in their eyes." You explain, not that it was needed. Tucking the book under your arm, you reach up, fingertips brushing his tan skin, feeling just left of his eye. "You don't have crow's feet, so that means you don't smile often, or you didn't used to, at least. But I've noticed lately you smile a lot. I can tell because your eyes always light up when you do."

Shoji's breath hitched as you deconstructed him. Had you always been this smart? Or were you just really observant? "I don't know much about you, and that's okay," you continued. "But I know you must have had a time in your life where you didn't have anything to smile for." How could you possibly keep hitting the nail on the head? It unnerved him how you unknowingly unravelled all his secrets, giving him the warmest smile all the while.

"I said what I said because I wanted to know that I like your smile, and I appreciate seeing it," you gently reassure. "But I understand it made you uncomfortable, so I won't-"

"No, please," he finally choked out, glancing away nervously. "I-I don't want you to stop saying it." He finally confessed, confusing you further. "It...means a lot from you, and I'd like to hear it more often, actually..."

Your shoulders finally slump and you beam up at him, joy radiating from you as you nod in understanding. "I love your smile, Shoji, please let me see it more often!"

He had no idea what compelled him to do it, but he glanced around, checking that the coast was clear before reaching up and very briefly yanking his mask down, flashing a sunny grin, eyes closed and brows furrowed. It was the type of smile you'd seen multiple times on the likes of Kirishima or Kaminari, but never on Shoji.

Your eyes wet, you took him in, trying to memorize his visage for the few seconds he showed it. His smirk was all scar tissue and straight, perfect teeth. "Shoji..." you whispered, breath swallowed. "You're smile..."

For a moment, Shoji could feel the guilt of a grave mistake crawl up his back and sit on his shoulder like a little devil. His hands retracted from your shoulders finally and his fist balled anxiously.

"You have the most beautiful smile in the world!"

#mha #mha x reader #mezo shoji #shoji x reader #mezo x reader #shoji fluff

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the-library-alcove · 11 months

Text

Ironic Parallels

For all that the political Left likes to claim that they're without bias or bigotry, just existing as a Jew in Leftist spaces will quickly demonstrate otherwise. And for maximum irony, the patterns of systemic antisemitism on the Left don't mirror right-wing antisemitism. Instead, they mirror right-wing racism. Imperfectly, for sure, but the parallels between how the Right treats Black people and how the Left treats Jews are striking.

Discussions of systemic bigotry are deflected with Whataboutisms so that the instigating issue isn't addressed. For African-Americans, it's often "What about Black-on-Black crime?" and similar by the Right-Wing, and for Jews, it's "What about Israel?"

Alternatively, a prominent political advocacy organization is attacked and defamed in order to again deflect and dismiss. "BLM is violent and engages in riots!" or the usual libels against ACORN, and "Israel is fascist!" or the usual libels against AIPAC and the ADL.

At the same time, prominent dead members have their words cherrypicked to make people feel good about themselves and their treatment of that group. Contrast how MLK's "I had a dream!" speech is used by the Right-Wing with how Anne Frank's "I believe that people are fundamentally good at heart" is used by the Left.

On that same theme, token members are held up to deflect accusations of systemic bias. African-American right-wingers prove that the Right Isn't Racist, and Jewish Antizionists prove that the Left isn't antisemitic--or, conversely, the extremist members of the individual group are cherrypicked to "prove" that the whole group is like them.

Furthermore, laws are proposed or passed to disrupt cultural practices; people of African descent face bias for having natural hair, while Jews routinely face people proposing banning circumcision, kosher slaughter, or the keeping of an eruv. But, you see, they can't be biased, because they know all about that group... based on what they saw on TV/Movies/Wikipedia, so they know that the group can handle these laws and rules just "fine".

The targeted group are treated as having an unfair advantage in the racial hierarchy. Consider the parallels between a right-winger complaining about Affirmative Action, and a Left-Winger saying that, since "Jews are White and therefore privileged, antisemitism isn't real discrimination."

But as soon as one shows up in a space outside of where they "belong", they're treated with suspicion until proven that they're acceptable... if ever. A POC in a store is treated as a potential thief, and a Jew in public is automatically acceptable to interrogate if they're a "Zionist".

Consider also how historical revisionism is rife as well. For POC, slavery and imperialism are erased from textbooks, as well as the backlash against Critical Race Theory, the 1619 Project and more. Meanwhile for Jews, pretty much nothing exists in educational curriculums between the start of the Diaspora (assuming it's even mentioned) and the Holocaust, which is treated as an aberration of bigotry instead of the culmination of centuries of hate. Even the admission of the real history is treated as an unforgiveable sin. Black people were never mistreated or enslaved, but were Guest Workers. Jews never came from the Levant and are Just White People From Europe.

And that's before we even get into systemic disenfranchisement. The original "ghetto" was the Jewish ghetto of Venice, and Jews are still routinely discriminated against for hiring, just as POC are.

But at the same time, everyone knows that "Blacks always play the race card" and that "Jews always accuse people of antisemitism."

And so on and so forth.

They're not perfect parallels--and I'm not saying that they are--but they are striking parallels in behavior.

I drafted this in April 2023, and it's been sitting in my drafts ever since, as I didn't have the courage to post it.

But given the current SURGE in Leftist Antisemitism, I somehow don't care anymore.

#leftist antisemitism #antisemitism

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 1 month

Note

Loved your Emily x teenage daughter reader! Can you do another one where she starts feeling pressure to start having sex because a bunch of her friends are and Emily finds out so she talks with her about it

Hey, anon! I got two super similar requests back-to-back, so this is kind of a two-for-one, but I hope it's what you're looking for! – illdowhatiwantthanks

The World's Largest Box of Condoms

Emily Prentiss x daughter!reader Warnings: discussions about sex, safe sex, genitalia, etc., so much secondhand embarrassment, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.7k

Summary: When your mom, Emily, finds your quickly-hidden box of condoms in the bathroom, you know you're in for one hell of a conversation.

“Honey!” your mom called from the bathroom, loud enough that you could hear her through your headphones. You pulled them off and listened for a moment before yelling back.

“What!?”

“Can you come in here, please!?”

You shrugged. Whatever it was, at least it’d be a nice break from your trigonometry homework. You tossed your pencil and headphones on top of your textbook and sauntered down the hall to the bathroom.

“What, Mom?” you asked, but your breath caught in your throat when you saw what she had sitting on the counter. It was condoms. So many condoms. The embarrassingly gigantic box of condoms you’d ordered on Amazon and hid behind the toilet paper. Which, in hindsight, was a stupid place to hide them. Your face flushed beet red.

She looked at you, stern, eyebrows raised. “You want to tell me why you’ve got a thousand condoms? I mean, Jesus, honey, I don’t know that I’ve used a thousand condoms in my life.”

“Mom, I–” You were floundering, sputtering, your stomach in your throat. “I can explain, I… Please don’t be mad.” You stared at the ground, face flaming.

To your surprise, your mom just laughed. You glanced up and found her rubbing her forehead, staring at the box. “A thousand condoms,” she chuckled, more to herself than you. “Oh, honey.” She threw an arm around your shoulder and kissed the top of your head. “I’m not mad. I just wish you'd talked to me before spending your life’s savings on the world’s largest box of condoms.”

“Y–you’re not mad?” you said, stumbling through your words, a cold sweat on the back of your neck.

She shook her head. “Nope. We do need to have a very frank discussion now, though.”

“Oh, god, Mom,” you protested.

“Look, I don’t know what they teach you in sex ed, but I can assure you in my day it was not enough.” She grabbed the box of condoms and moved toward the living room. “And I’ll be damned if my kid doesn’t know what they’re getting into. Come on, Y/N.”

You groaned, but followed her, sitting uncomfortably on the couch across from where your mom lounged in an armchair.

“Look, I understand this might feel awkward,” she started. “It’s not the most comfortable conversation I’ve ever had either. But I want you to know you can talk to me about this even if it’s awkward. And, above all, I want you to have all the information and resources you need to be safe. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said quietly.

Your mom exhaled heavily, then looked at you. “Alright, first things first, are you sexually active?”

You thought your face might be permanently flushed at this point. “No. Not… not yet. It’s not what you think, I just… my friends all are and I– I wanted to be ready I guess.”

She nodded. “Okay. That’s okay. When you’re ready and who that’s with, those are your decisions, okay? But I want you to keep in mind when you get into those situations to think about how you’re feeling.”

“Like… what kind of feelings?”

“Well,” your mom shrugged. “I mean, for starters, does it feel good?”

“Oh my god, Mom!” you squealed, burying your face in a pillow.

“Sorry! But, as I’m sure you know, sex is supposed to feel good! I’ve had sex that felt great and sex that felt like shit, and sometimes I didn’t realize that “not feeling good” was a good enough reason to stop.”

You groaned into the pillow. You did not want to hear about your mom’s sex life. You knew she was just trying to educate you and help you and she was but… ugh! Why’d it have to be so awkward?!

She was in full mom mode now, her voice stern like a teacher’s. “When you’re in a situation where you’re thinking about having sex, you need to ask yourself, Do I feel safe? Do I feel good? Do I want to do this because I want to do it or because someone else wants me to?”

You nodded, exhaling slowly.

“And anytime you decide you want to stop, any time it doesn’t feel good or safe, the other person stops. Always. If they don’t, that is abusive behavior and you can call for help or do whatever you need to do to get safe.”

“I know all this already, Mom,” you needled. “Consent is king, blah, blah, blah.”

“And that goes for you, too,” she added, pointing at you. “If someone you’re with gives you anything less than wholehearted consent, or if they decide they want to stop, you stop. If they’re drunk or high, stop. If you’re drunk or high, stop.”

“Of course,” you said, throwing your hands up. “I would never, Mom. You know that.”

“I know, but…” She took a long sip of her wine. “It bears repeating.” She patted her leg. “Alright, now we get down to the dirty details.”

“Mom!” You were terrified. Exactly what kind of dirty details needed to be gotten down to!?

She cracked a smile. “I’ll try not to make it too hard on you, honey. Now, are you on birth control?”

You shook your head and gestured toward the box of condoms. “I mean, I was gonna be safe, though…”

Your mom shook her head and pulled out her phone. “Condoms aren’t 100% effective. I’ll make an appointment for you this week so we can get you on it. I will ask you not to engage in any sexual activity until after your birth control becomes effective, though, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled.

“Now, are you planning on having sex with women at all?”

“I–” Your voice caught in your throat. “No, I mean… I don’t think so.”

“Okay, well, just in case…” she said, holding up her hands defensively. “If you have sex with a woman, you still need to be cautious about STDs. Just be open with one another about your sexual history. I’m happy to take you to get an STD screening anytime you want. I have some dental dams around here somewhere, too, if you want them, but I think STD screenings are more effective with women.”

Suddenly, you were looking at your mom with new eyes. “You know a lot about being with women…” you observed.

Your mom gave you a look of equal parts love and equal parts pity. “Oh, honey. Why do you think your babysitters always stayed the night after I got back from working cases?”

Your jaw dropped. “You– what!?”

“The only people I trusted you with for that long were girlfriends, honey.” She took another swig of wine.

“You’re bi!?’

“Honey, we’ve talked about this,” your mom insisted. “When we first started talking about sex in elementary school, remember? I told you 99% of the time I liked women better.”

You felt like you were losing your mind. “You just said that you had better connections with women! Not that you sleep with women!”

“Is that right?” Emily said, wincing. “Yikes. My bad, sweetheart. I guess I just assumed you would have put two and two together by now.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’m just fucking dumb,” you grumbled, still shaken.

“You’re not dumb.” Your mom sighed.” I should have been more up front. We had pride flags and everything, though! We even went to Pride!”

You shrugged. “I just thought you were a really passionate ally.”

You looked up and your mom’s shoulders were shaking with laughter, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. When you both finally calmed down, she exhaled sharply.

“Alright, just a few more things. I promise!” she added when you groaned.

She looked at the ceiling, as if trying to summon all of her advice about sex.

“If a guy doesn’t want to wear a condom, do not sleep with him. They’ll try to say it doesn’t feel the same and maybe it doesn’t. I don’t give a fuck personally. The risk of getting pregnant is way more concerning to me than the risk of him having a slightly less great sexual experience. Always use a condom with a man.”

You nodded.

“The good news is, you’ll always have enough,” your mom grinned, pointing to the box.

You blushed and giggled.

"In all seriousness, though, condoms do expire. They last... three to five years, I think? But don't use an expired condom, it breaks down more easily."

She exhaled heavily. "Now, this last part is the most important, okay?” Your mom set her wine down, stood, and moved to sit next to you, taking your hand in hers. You avoided her eyes, cheeks red.

“If you ever feel in danger or in trouble, if you ever get pregnant, if you ever need help, you call me.”

She squeezed your hand, and you squeezed hers back. No matter how excruciatingly awkward this conversation had been, no matter how much you kind of wished you were anywhere else, you knew your mom would be there for you. You were glad to have a mom who wasn’t judgy, one who helped you be safe and trusted you to make good decisions. One who would help you even if you didn’t make good decisions.

“Alright?” she prompted. “You call me. And you be safe.”

And it was only then when you looked at your mom that you realized that as hard as this conversation had been for you, it might have been harder for her. She was a protective woman, your mom, an FBI agent. She’d literally kill someone before letting you get hurt. It was hard for her to let you go, probably. Hard for her to let you grow up.

“I will, Mom. I promise,” you assured her.

She exhaled deeply and kissed the top of your head, then gave you a light whack on the arm. “Alright. That’s all I’ve got. You can get back to your… geometry or whatever you’re working on.”

“Trig,” you corrected.

She nodded, sinking back into the armchair with her glass of wine, seemingly relieved the conversation was over.

“Oh, Y/N?” she called just as you stepped into the hallway. You turned to look at her, then blushed as she held your jumbo box of condoms up to you.

“Don’t forget your condoms, honey,” she chuckled. You snatched them from her blushing, but smiled as you turned back to your room. When you thought about it, you really did have a cool mom.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x daughter!reader #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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to-thelakes · 4 days

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fuckin' calculus (lip gallagher x reader)

content warning(s); brief reference to weird teacher-student relationships (SUPER BRIEF), typical shameless themes (smoking, gratuitous swearing), that's it! (this is just 1.7k words of gratuitous fluff/comfort for lip)

summary; monica coming back really fucked lip up but he only lets himself cry when he's alone with you in your bedroom.

series masterlist

in celebration of my beloved jeremy allen white's win, here is a lil lip gallagher one-shot

You knew something was wrong from when he stepped into the hallway. Lip had this sober look on his face and it was the tell-tale sign he was hiding something. His mom had come back so that had to be part of it but you didn’t say anything.

Instead, you walked with him to his locker where he grabbed the shit he needed for class. It was quiet for a moment, you stood beside him while he stuck his head in his locker, rummaging through the crap that had piled up. You were watching him, talking about something aimless.

“You know I really think Miss Davis wants to fuck Eddy. I mean, I don’t get it and I mean, come on, he’s like 15 and she’s fucking 40 but fuck, not the weirdest shit that’s happened. You know-” Your rambling was cut off by Lip’s hand slamming into the side of his locker.

The noise reverberated around the hallways, eyes drawing your way and you went silent. Lip had always been so calm and collected around you. It scared you - only briefly -, your eyes widened as you took in his frustrated expression.

His eyes were lined with tears, mouth set into a frown, his fingers curled up into a tight fist.

“Fucking’ Calculus,” He ground out under his breathe. You frowned but it was like you weren’t even there.

“Use mine. I’ve not got Calc today,” You responded with a tentative smile. For a minute, you were convinced he had forgotten you were even there.

“Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?” He was quick to apologise. Though he only ever apologised when it wasn’t necessary, when it didn’t mean anything. Otherwise, he found it hard to spit the words out.

“Nothing important,” You said as you pulled your backpack over to your front, pulling out your Calc textbook. You had only brought it in because you had it 4th period but he didn’t need to know that.

“You sure it’s okay?” He asked, taking the textbook tentatively from your grip. You nodded.

“Course,” You reassured him. You then leant forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling softly. You glanced at the clock, it was getting dangerously close to class time. You knew that you could get to class with enough time even after the bell rang for first period but you loved to be early. Lip knew that, “Gotta run to World History but got a free house until late if you wanna come over,” You asked. Lip nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds fun.” He sounded distant and you weren’t entirely sure he was listening but you let it go. You squeezed his bicep with your free hand and then disappeared down the hallway to class. ***

The walk back to yours had been quiet. Lip hadn’t said much all day. From the moment you got out of school to the moment you reached your front door, it was like he was somewhere else. It was a classic Lip Gallagher shutdown. It had happened a few weeks ago when Frank had tried to go sober. You couldn’t blame him.

“Bedroom?” You asked softly as you both kicked off your shoes and he stubbed a cigarette out on the porch, “Or I can heat us up some leftovers?” You added. Lip shrugged and you knew what that meant. So, you walked over to the thermostat and cranked it up a little before shedding your layers. Braving the Chicago cold was not for the weak.

Lip shed his coat and scarf, placing them on the hook before you grabbed his hand and coaxed him upstairs.

“Need to piss,” He muttered. You nodded and let him go before heading into your room. You picked up a few pyjamas and clothes that had been strewn across the floor. Your room wasn’t a mess but you couldn’t help but want everything to be neater for Lip. He lived in such chaos, you didn’t want to feed into it even if you were used to that same chaos too. You wanted to be his oasis.

You fished one of his hoodies you’d stolen from the closet and draped it over the back of your desk chair before you stripped off and changed into shorts and an oversized shirt.

“Left a hoodie out for you, gonna lie in bed,” You called into the hallway just loud enough that he could hear in the bathroom. You didn’t get a response but you knew he heard you. You were quick to go back to room and crank the radiator on before sliding under the covers. The best thing about an empty house was the peace and quiet.

All you could hear was the muffled sounds of Lip washing his hands, wiping them and then coming out of the bathroom.

His figure appeared in the doorway and he looked somehow more downtrodden than he had all day. He didn’t say anything as he changed into just boxer shorts and the hoodie. He rifled through his bag for a moment before pulling out the calculus textbook you lent him and placed it on the desk.

“You had Calculus 4th period,” He stated. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Huh?”

“You needed the textbook.”

“Oh, yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal. Just looked over Maggie’s shoulder. She gets it better than I do,” You waved off his words with a small smile. He frowned and you tilted your head, “Come ‘ere,” You requested. Your voice was soft and quiet. He didn’t need to be asked again and when you pulled the edge of the covers up, he crawled into bed.

But rather than lying beside you, he lay on top of you. His head rested on your chest, your tits acting as a cushion. Your fingers slipped up into his hair while the other wrapped the duvet around the both of you.

“Why’d do you lie about Calculus?” He asked, voice muffled into your skin. You gently scritched his scalp.

“People do dumb things for the people they like,” You admitted softly. He buried his face further into your chest. You tilted your head forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Can’t help myself when it comes to you. You make me silly.” He rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the side. His cheek resting against you. One of his hands moved and began to draw patterns across arms.

“Don’t get why she can just walk in and pretend none of it fucking mattered,” He said after a moment, “It’s bullshit. She fucks off and leaves us with dad and comes back and expects us to accept her with open arms. She didn’t fucking raise me. She didn’t care. Never sent me a fucking birthday card. None of that shit. Now, she’s trying to take fucking Liam? Who the fuck does that? Some fucking bullshit,” He ranted. It was less angry and more sad. You had known Lip since before Monica fucked off which meant that you knew the anger about her leaving had long turned into quiet contemplation and exhaustion. You knew that the constant questions plagued him and you knew that even though he had managed to let you in, he lived in fear that you’d fuck off too.

Not that you ever would.

It would take the strength of the Gods to separate you from Lip. You didn’t care what anyone said to you.

“Want me to tell her to go fuck herself?” You asked, half-joking. He let out an amused huff before he shook his head.

“Nah, no point. She’ll do that herself,” He muttered. His eyes had gotten glassy and you continued to slowly run your fingers through his hair. He hated crying. Lip hated crying but he found it harder not to when he was with you.

“I got you, baby,” You whispered softly when you heard the first telltale sniffle of tears. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling into you. It was a subconscious attempt to hide himself away but you didn’t care. You ran your fingers through his hair and whispered sweet nothings as the tears continued to fall.

Lip didn’t say anything, there was nothing else he felt like he could say. So, instead, he cried in your arms as you gently shushed him and promised him that you’re right there with him and urged him to let it out.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed curled up together but by the end of it, Lip had fallen asleep against your chest. His breathing had evened out and the lull of your heartbeat had pulled him into the dream world.

And he stayed like that for hours. You didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to read and so you balanced your book and stayed with him.

At some point your parents came home and when they passed your bedroom door, they simply smiled.

“Everything okay?” Your dad had mouthed to you. You had simply nodded.

“Gallagher shit,” was all you had mouth back. He nodded and gave you a thumbs up. He mimed dinner and you nodded. Then he pointed at Lip and you nodded again. If you were gonna wake Lip up it would be with good food.

“Thank you,” You mouthed and your dad simply nodded and headed downstairs to talk with your mum. It was peaceful and you were glad Lip trusted you enough to allow himself to feel at least a semblance of that peace too.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead while he continued to sleep.

“I love you,” You whispered to him. You’d never dare say it when he was awake but you could tell him now. You were brave enough to say it now while he was completely unaware and content.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher x y/n #lip gallagher fanfic #shameless #shameless fic #shameless fanfiction #reader-insert #reader insert

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steebharringt0n · 1 year

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dangerous liaisons

summary: he was sent to protect you, infiltrate your family as your personal bodyguard, but instead he plans on defiling you. pairing: mob!steve harrington/fem!reader warnings: SMUT (18+), innocent!reader, dom!steve, a lil bit of mean!steve, masturbation, religious talk, slight age gap. a/n: MOB!STEVE MOB!STEVE! Anyways these will purely just be smut fics involving Steve and you, maybe one day I’ll go more in depth with it but for now this’ll do :) also reader is 18 years old btw! and if you saw any mistakes no you didn't.

“Steve, what do you know about anatomy?”

Your legs swung lazily in the air, your white knee high socks still on your feet. You were laying on your bed, biology textbook open wide in front of you. You glanced up at the dark haired man sitting in the corner of your room, his arms crossed against his chest, looking incredibly bored.

You watch as a muscle in his jaw twitches, his eyes gazed off to elsewhere.

He heard you tsk, head shaking in disappointment, “Nothing? Ah, you’re no help Harrington”

Harrington. He wanted to laugh.

That wasn’t his real name. It was his fathers, the name his mother took to protect herself, protect her family.

Angelica Harrington, born Angelica Costello, was daughter of Frank Costello, the Don of the Costello family. Steve grew up surrounded by his Italian side of the family. Sunday dinners, catholic school, and a tight knit family who kept to themselves in Hawkins, Indiana.

Sure, Hawkins was ways away from New York where the majority of his family lived but he was sent here with a mission in hand, specifically set by his grandfather who he regarded in high respect. A frail old man now, whose sun spots and wrinkles covered most of his face. Steve would have never guessed that his favorite family member had blood on his hands, the infamous Costello family was known for quick hits and brutal tortures.

After his father passed away, his grandfather decided it was time to show Steve the business - much to his mothers' despair. She didn’t want her only son wrapped up in the business, but Frank knew his grandson had it in him. He was a Costello, it ran in his blood.

So one day, shortly after turning 21, he followed his grandfather into his study, a dark wooden room with bookshelves and family pictures littered across walls.

“Steven, do you know why we moved to Indiana, left everything behind?” He began, pacing the room as he gazed at the family photos.

Steve took a seat on the leather chair, his eyes following Frank’s move.

“No, grandfather”

Frank chuckled, shaking his head, “Well Steven, it’s time I introduced you to the family business”

Steve was then slowly introduced to that side of the family. Meeting Frank's 'associates', learning how to shoot a gun, learning about the underground drug trade that ran through Hawkins that Frank was certain his family was going to take it from the Messina Family.

That’s where you came in.

The Messina and Costello family had been feuding for over 50 years. A rivalry that began in Italy and continued into New York and had now spilled into Indiana.

A drug trade that was snatched from the Costello family. The Messina's' then fled New York, moving the entire family to a little town known as Hawkins, where no one knew them, of their crimes, and what they were capable of.

The Messina’s had one daughter, the pride and jewel of the family, the baby of the family. Your father was the Don of the Messina family, having taken over the business from his father. You grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth, never missing anything in your life.

And you were the key to bringing your family down.

The plan in itself was simple. The Messina’s would hire Steve as her bodyguard, Steve would infiltrate the family and take the business back. The plan seemed simple enough, Steve didn’t raise any eyebrows with the last name Harrington. He had an extensive resume created for him because the Messina’s only hired the best for their baby girl.

Then he met you, you all in your catholic school uniform, a tight white blouse with a checkered pattern pleated skirt. Knee high socks that made your legs look longer than what they are. You were coy, quiet, watching Steve through long fluttered eyelashes.

Steve was instantly attracted to you no doubt, but he wasn’t here to fuck around. He was here to get the job done and move to New York.

But the longer he stayed around you the more he couldn’t control himself - especially when you would act like a brat around him, which was most of the time.

Steve’s eyes shifted back to you on your king sized bed, you were starting to annoy him with the loud, incessant smacking of your gum.

“Could you chew any louder?” He snaps at you.

You look up from your textbook, eyebrows knitting together in annoyance. You slam your book close, eyes zeroed in on Steve. You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him and continued to chew loudly.

You watched as the vein in his temple throbbed, you loved getting under his skin, watching him get flustered under your teasing words.

“C’mon, quit it, you’re being annoying and I have a headache” he hisses.

You turn over on your back, throwing your books off your bed. “Aw poor baby” you mock, “Does the baby need someone to hold him?”

“Shut it”

“Make me”

He turns his head to give you a glare, you were hanging off of your bed, head dangling off on the edge, your vision all topsy-turvy. He shoots up from his chair, charging towards your bed. You watch him amusingly, until he yanks your leg towards him.

You make a yelping noise, surprised at how quick and how strong he is. He then crawls on your bed, hovering over you, one of his knees makes it in between your skirt.

You watch him with a grin as he forcefully grabs your chin to look at him. He looks pissed, annoyed, irritated, but you could care less. He inadvertently moved his knee a little too high up your skirt, hitting your sensitive area. You let out a soft moan by accident, the sensation sending tingles all over your body.

That moan didn’t go unnoticed by Steve.

One of his eyebrows shoots up, he pulls away from you, letting you come up on your elbows.

“What was that?” He questions.

You suddenly become bashful, tugging your skirt down, but Steve’s leg stayed right in place. You shrug, “I - I don’t know, your knee …” you trail off, avoiding his eyes.

A wicked grin starts to spread across his face, he notices as your demeanor quickly changes. He purposely tenses up his knee, nudging it against that sweet spot.

“S-Steve…” you breathe out heavily.

“What is it? What do you feel?” His voice is soft, quiet like.

“Y-your knee, when you …” you trail off, not sure how to word it. While you could be a brat, anything sexual was off the table for you. You were as pure as pure can be, catholic school drilled it in your head that any impure thoughts would send you straight to hell.

But at this moment, being sent to hell didn’t make any sense, especially when it felt that good.

“Do you like it? Does it feel good when my knee touches you there?”

He starts hovering back over you, like a cat stalking its prey, his mouth widens into a shit eating grin. He’s got you in the palm of his hands.

“N-no, it’s a sin, masturbation is a sin” you utter out.

Steve cackles, as if you had just said a joke. You suddenly feel small against his presence, he was so much bigger, stronger than you. His hand starts to slowly skim its way up your face, his thumb coming up to rub your cheek.

“Oh honey, you’ll come to learn in life that everything that feels good is a sin” he whispers against the shell of your ear. You swallow thickly, your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

“Do you want me to do it again? Learn a little anatomy?”

Your eyes lock onto his, his pupils are blown, wide with excitement. You lean into his touch and utter a small “Yes”

“What a good girl, now open wide”

He shifts his thumb from your cheek down to your bottom lip where he slowly pries your mouth open, he rests his thumb on your pink tongue.

You're quaking in his arms, feeling your wetness pool around in your underwear. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before, like a live wire was sent throughout your body. It’s intoxicating, it’s sinful. Steve readjusts himself, angling his knee to better hit your clit.

“Hnng, Steve … keep, keep, doing that” you moan out, arms splayed out on the bed. The top two buttons of your white uniform pop open as your back arches, displaying a red lacy bra underneath. Your gold cross necklace sits right in between your breast bone, catching the sun's reflection on it. Steve almost wants to laugh at the irony. The bone of his knee hits right on your clit, pressing on it gently.

He wants you to cum on him, he wants you to know how good it feels to be sinful.

“You like how that feels huh? Look at you, dirty girl rubbing your clit on my knee” his voice is richer, an octave deeper than what you usually hear. It sends goosebumps down your body. How easily you melt with just a nudge of his knee, but god you’ve never felt this good before.

Your wetness starts seeping out of your underwear, staining Steve’s pants but he doesn’t care, he just wants to destroy you.

“S-Steve, I - I feel weird, like, like, like …” you can’t finish your sentence as your brain becomes mush. Your chest is heaving heavily, he continues to rub your clit gently with his knee, going around in small circles.

He shoves his thumb back into your mouth, shutting you up. Your eyes roll at the back of your head, pleasure shocking you through your core. His pants have become unbearably tight, his thick member creating a tent in his pants. He grabs a hold of his cock through his jeans, trying to release some of the pressure.

He had finally found your weakness. Your innocence is your weakness, and Steve was going to break down those walls. He was going to absolutely defile you.

“You’re about to cum aren’t you? Yeah that’s right, you see my knee is hitting your clit. Those little bundle of nerves were made to make you cum. That’s the only thing it’s good for” he leans down and nips at your earlobe.

You moan loudly in response.

“Shhhh, you wouldn’t want daddy to interrupt our anatomy lesson now do you?” He softly scolds you.

You shake your head, eyes glossy and his thumb still in your mouth.

“Good, because I’m going to fucking ruin you”

His knee starts rubbing your clit faster, with more urgency. You’re an absolute mess underneath him, sweat sticking to your skin, hair a tangled mess. Your arms shoot up and grip his brown hair pulling him down to your chest

“Oh, you like that huh? I want you to cum, I want you to come all over my knee” he commands you.

All you can do is give him a nodding of your head because words cannot properly come out of your mouth. He continues to press against your clit and he sees that you’re close. Your heavy breathing turns into whimpers and you feel like you’re about to hit a tipping point. You’ve never experienced an orgasm before but if this is what it feels like, then you're aching for more.

Steve moves his thumb from your month and wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing gently.

And that’s all it took.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod … “ your back fully arches off the bed as you cum all his knee. You let out a loud moan, eyes tightly shut. You feel like you’ve reached heaven, like you’ve been injected with pleasure from the gods. Steve doesn't stop though, he continues to work you through your orgasm but once he sees how tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes due to the overstimulation, he pulls his knee away.

He glances down at his pants, a large wet spot now stains his knee, and his pants are still (and unfortunately) uncomfortably tight. He lifts up your skirt, glancing down at your underwear where it's become wet with your cum. He swipes a finger over your throbbing clit, collecting the juices that spilled from you.

"I want you to taste yourself, see how sweet you taste"

You lazily lift yourself up, eyes still half lidded. Your whole world has been turned upside down and you've become addicted to the sensation. You're at the mercy of your bodyguard and you want him to make you feel good over and over again. You grab his hand and take his finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the wetness.

"Look at you cleaning my finger, such a fucking dirty girl. Tell me, how good to you taste?"

You take his finger out of your mouth with a loud pop,

"Like candy"

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut

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andreafmn · 1 year

Text

Kinktober ⛓️ Day 3

Word Count: 2.5K Paring: Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Hate Sex WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), p-in-v sex, foul language, reader is technically underage

Summary: There is no one that (Y/N) despises more than Philip Gallagher, but having his brother as her best friend forces them in close proximity more than they would like. Or maybe they do?

A/N: This is set some time during season 3 so Lip is around 18 and reader would be 17 since she's contemporary with Ian's age, so do with that what you will.

<- Previous

“Yo, Ian,” Lip’s voice rang through the house. “You’re girlfriend’s here!”

“Oh, fuck off, Lip,” (Y/N) said as she bumped past him into the Gallagher home. “I know you wish I was here to see you, but I don’t do charity work on Tuesdays.”

“Fuck you, (Y/L/N). You’d be lucky if I was the one you were studying with.”

“Of course, the genius Philip Gallagher that doesn’t even want to go to college,” she snickered, stopping at the rest on the stairs. “I’ll take my chances with my own brain. Thanks.”

“You’ll regret helping Ian with math,” he called as he walked to the front door. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With an exasperated scoff, (Y/N) walked up the rest of the stairs, clutching her backpack tighter than she should have. She didn’t understand why she and the older Gallagher son didn’t get along. She had a wonderful relationship with everyone else in the family –even Frank was courteous enough with her– but something never clicked with Lip. Every time they were in close proximity, they would bicker and fight until someone else got in the way. It made it especially difficult when (Y/N) came over to spend time with Ian.

She would never say she hated Lip. But the sentiment was close enough that others would notice. Between the terrible side-eyes and the snide comments, being around the two could easily become suffocating. Granted, everyone but them knew what was truly happening. They had met their match in each other but were too stubborn to admit it.

“You ran into Lip, didn’t you?” Ian chuckled as his friend walked into his room. “It’s all over your face.”

“Unfortunately, I did,” she sighed, plopping down next to him on the floor. “But he seemed to be going somewhere, so I didn’t have to talk to him for much.”

“Just long enough to make sure you got annoyed. Perfect mood to study Geometry with you.”

“Fuck you, I’m always a delight.”

“Sure. Until you spend a second with Lip, and then everything goes to shit.”

“Shut up, Ian,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you want me to help you study, you’ll stop talking about your despicable brother, Phillip.”

Hours passed between textbooks and worksheets, notebooks and loose papers, and somehow the bright afternoon sun had shifted into night. Ian had already gone to bed, tired from a long day of shapes and mathematical equations. Almost everyone in the house had done the same, tucked into bed early, which was a luxury for anyone on the South Side.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was still wide awake, taking advantage of the tiredness of the family to use up what was left of the hot water. She could have gone home, to her packed house and probably cold water, but she found comfort staying with the Gallaghers. The family was a melting pot of chaos, there were more fights than a WWE ring, and every single day brought a different kind of adventure. Her house had all of that, except the real warmth of a family. And being there made her feel like she was a part of something.

The water ran across her skin, soothing the tight muscles that stiffened her body. The smell of soap filled her nose as she lathered herself, and she was glad that the bar seemed new still. They were small luxuries that she was grateful she could partake in every once in a while. And in the quiet of the night, it was almost peaceful.

Until a sound that did not fit into her spa-like scenario filled the air. From behind the curtain, she could hear a strong stream of liquid falling into the toilet. But she knew she had locked the door —not that it would have worked in that house anyway.

She moved the curtain slightly to reveal Lip standing in front of the toilet. “What the fuck are you doing?” (Y/N) exclaimed, making sure her body was covered. “Can’t you see I’m using the bathroom?”

“You’re in the shower. Toilet was up for grabs.”

“Why couldn’t you have gone downstairs?”

“Because I was already upstairs,” he shrugged, shaking his cock above the toilet as he finished. “Stop gawking, (Y/N). I know it’s impressive, but staring is kind of rude.”

“Fuck you, Lip. I’ve seen better,” she said, closing the curtain to conceal the way her skin was flushing. “I’ve definitely been with better.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he snickered, turning on the sink. “But we both know the guys you’ve fucked are not exactly Adonises.”

“You’re such an asshole, Lip,” she scoffed. “If you’re gonna be here, at least pass me my towel.”

“Why should I? You can just step out.”

“You’re not seeing me naked, Lip.”

“It’s only fair,” he chuckled. “You saw mine, I get to see yours.”

“Stop being a perv, Lip. I’m not one of those chicks you fuck for fun. I actually have standards.”

“Right, and they’re so high, right?”

“They are.”

“Is that why you fucked Billy Spencer two months ago or lost your v-card with Jesse Suarez in his car? Yeah, those standards are skyscraping high.”

In a fit of rage, (Y/N) ripped the curtain open and sauntered out of the tub, getting as close to Lip as possible. “You don’t get to fucking judge my decisions, Philip,” she spat, jabbing her index finger against his chest. “Who I sleep with or don’t sleep with is none of your business. And you sure as hell are one to talk. Your list is not the most pristine, either. Starting with Karen, for example.”

“Don’t you fucking talk about her,” he said through gritted teeth, pushing back on her as she had. “You don’t talk about her.”

“What? You can dish it out but can’t fucking take it, huh?”

“I can take whatever you fucking throw at me, (Y/N). I ain’t scared of you.”

“Maybe you should be,” she continued. There was almost no space between them. She had him pressed against the wall, their noses almost touching as they heaved in anger. “There is no one else that can put you in your place like I can, and you know it.”

“I don’t need you to put me in my place.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re so fucking infuriating!”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

Lip’s next move was a surprise to her. She was expecting him to keep yelling or stomp out of the bathroom. Instead, he placed a hand on either side of her face and crashed his lips onto hers. He was all kinds of rough and forceful, clashing teeth and lips together without any care. But somehow, (Y/N) found herself kissing back just as roughly, grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket.

But it wasn’t until she felt the roughness of his hands on the skin of her back that she realized she had jumped out of the shower, naked and still dripping with water. She jumped away from Lip as though his touch was fire and scrambled for her towel, trying her best to cover her body from him.

“Why are you covering yourself now?” he laughed. “I already saw everything, (Y/N).”

“Fuck you, Philip.”

“I was gonna let you,” he grinned. “But it looks like you got performance anxiety. Maybe you’re not as good as guys say.”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m great in bed,” she argued. “But I would rather do it with someone I actually like.”

“It’s just sex, (Y/N),” he countered. “This is not to fall in love.”

(Y/N) kept quiet for a beat, thinking over the boy’s request. His reputation for being a good lay preceded him, and she would have been lying if she said she had never thought about it. But the fact that his personality was almost revolting made her wonder if it was worth it.

“God, you’re so fucking infuriating,” she said before doing the same thing he had done. “This means nothing. You’re just convenient.”

“Right,” he chuckled against her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, shut up already.”

“Make me.”

Her lips did all the answering, molding to his mouth perfectly, their tongues dancing together in perfect symphony. If she had believed in fate and the alignment of the universe, she would have deluded herself into thinking that they were meant to be.

Lip’s clothes were rough against her unclothed skin, the zippers and the fabrics scratching at her body and rubbing the most sensitive parts of her body that were exposed. Warmth pooled between her legs with the kiss alone, and her body’s reaction scared her. It was almost instantaneous, and it had been the first time it had happened.

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one that’s naked,” she said breathlessly.

“Do you ever stop fucking talking?”

“Not when my mouth’s unoccupied,” she snickered. “And I have a lot to say.”

“You’re too fucking much,” he grumbled as he took off layer after layer of clothing, letting them fall to the floor. “Now come here.”

He kissed her roughly again, pressing his chest as close to her body as he could, his hands snaking to the small of her back. As their mouth moved in synch, they walked backward until her back was pressed against the wall, the coldness making her skin erupt in goosebumps. But his hands were enough to build a fire inside her. The way they mapped every inch of her body and worked in tandem with his mouth to find her most sensitive spots.

Lip nipped at her jaw and her neck, traveling down to her collarbone as his hands tweaked the hardened peaks of her breasts. Somehow, he was able to annoy her within an inch of raging ire and could bring her to the brink of orgasm with just his mouth and hands.

In a swift move, Lip turned (Y/N), bending her against the wall as he pulled the zipper of his pants down. The clothes pooled at his ankles as he held his cock and lined himself up with her wetness, running the head across her fold and teasing her clit.

“For someone that is just doing this out of convenience, you’re really wet,” he chuckled darkly. “Have you been dreaming about this?”

“I could ask the same of you, Philip,” she retorted. “Because for someone that doesn’t really care, you’re really fucking hard.”

“I’m only just a man, (Y/N).”

“How about you shut up and prove it already, then? Maybe…”

(Y/N)’s words died in her throat as she felt him sink into her completely, stretching her walls like no one had done before. He took the air out of her lungs, a moan getting strangled in her throat at the suddenness.

Lip didn’t move instantly, allowing her body to get used to the size. At least, that was what he would have said if she had asked. Truthfully, being inside her was the most overwhelming experience he had ever had. He needed a moment to compose himself before he busted too early. The last thing he needed was for (Y/N) to have more ammo against him. He enjoyed their bickering reparté, but he had quite the reputation when it came to sex, and he wouldn’t let her ruin it. Even if his body was trying to betray him.

Once he felt he could control himself, he started moving hips, quickly setting a pace that had (Y/N) letting out a string of moans that he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life. Her hands gripped the towel bar before her, her knuckles turning white from the tightness. She met his every move, pushing against him as he pummeled into her.

“Harder,” she meweled. “Fuck me harder, Philip.”

Lip did exactly as told. Skin met skin at a rapid pace, filling the otherwise quiet room with pants, moans, and slaps. Even her using his full name did not put a damper on his mood, rather loved the way it sounded in her mouth. And for the first time, it didn’t sound like she was saying it with hate. At least, not completely.

He snaked his hand around her body, his hand finding the mound of her clit and pressing two fingers on it. They circled and rolled the bud, making her walls clench around him as he pistoned into her. He knew both of them were reaching their end. The tightening of her cunt and the tightening of his balls told him enough.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Lip. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

And he didn’t. He kept thrusting until (Y/N) let out a pleasurable yell that had him covering her mouth. As he did, she bit down on his skin unconsciously, making him moan and awakening something in him he didn’t know was dormant. It brought him right to the brink of his end, and it took everything in him to leave her warmth and explode all over her ass.

His body slumped over hers, absentmindedly kissing the skin of her shoulder as they both came down from their orgasm. They felt comfortable in their silence, their pants synching and their bodies melting against each other. If they could have, they would have fallen asleep in that very position.

But a knock on the door startled them apart.

“Yo, I need the bathroom,” Carl called from the other side of the door. “I’ve gotta piss real bad.”

“Can you go downstairs, Carl?” (Y/N) asked. “I’m just finishing up in the shower.”

“Ugh, fine! Just hurry up. There’s more people in this house, you know?”

“Yeah, sorry!”

After wiping themselves down, Lip and (Y/N) started getting dressed, neither meeting each other’s gaze. “We don’t speak about this to anyone,” she finally said. “Especially not Ian. And this can’t happen ever again.”

“Sure,” he mumbled. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious, Philip,” she pleaded, placing a hand on his chest to get his attention. “If Ian finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I won’t say anything,” he laughed, looking at her in a way he never had before. “But I wouldn’t mind if this happened again.”

“Are you serious?”

“What? The rumors are true. You are a good lay.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Gallagher,” she grinned before stopping at the door to exit first. “But I don’t think this will happen again.”

“Keep telling yourself that, (Y/N).”

“Fuck off, Philip,” she whispered from the end of the hall before disappearing into the boys’ bedroom, leaving Lip to think of just how he could make this a repeat situation.

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momotonescreaming · 8 months

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Teenage Dream - Part 5

AKA - the Jeff and Eddie have crushes on jocks series Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

“Jeff!” Eddie shouted, voice raised over the roar of the cars entering the student car park. Jeff whipped his head to look over at his friend, waving his arm from the other side of the car park, hanging out of the side of the van. “Dude!”

Vinnie gave him a look, raising a judgemental eyebrow in such a way that only middle schoolers could, as Eddie hollered for his attention. He was in no position to judge, Jeff’s met his friends.

Jeff sneered back, gently shoving at his brother’s shoulder, pushing him in the general direction of the middle school. “Move it, squirt, or you’ll be late.”

“As if,” Vinnie huffed, rolling his eyes, but walking off anyway. Brothers.

By the time Vinnie had left, Eddie was across the car park, leaning on the roof of Jeff’s old Ford. Keys in his hand, jingling against his rings. “He giving you shit?”

“When is he not?” Jeff replied, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he locked his car. Falling into step with Eddie, the pair walking in tandem towards the doors to Hawkins High. He found himself scanning the crowds, looking for Frank, or Gareth, or any of the Hellfire freshies. He found himself scanning for strawberry blonde hair, for blue eyes, for the familiar green of the cheerleader uniforms.

“He giving you shit about Chrissy,” Eddie sing songs, biting his lip and smiling as he nudges his shoulder against Jeff’s. He’s not shouting it from the rooftops, which is nice, but man, Eddie could stand to be a lot quieter. If anyone heard, Jeff was going to give Eddie a wedgie.

“Oh shut up,” Jeff replies, although he laughs as he shoves at Eddie back. “He doesn’t know and he’s not gonna.”

“Boo.” Eddie says, fake pouting. “That’s no fun.”

“You’re just saying that because you have no siblings,” Jeff replies, pushing open the doors and heading into the halls of Hawkins High. “Would you want someone in your house constantly giving you shit? I’m not giving them both any ammunition to be more annoying than they already are.”

“I mean,” Eddie starts, dragging out the word. “I have Wayne.”

“You told Uncle Wayne?” Jeff asks, brow furrowed as they manoeuvre through the halls to Eddie’s locker. He knew Eddie was out to Wayne — that it was part of the reason he was staying with Wayne and not his father (before he got shipped off to prison. But he didn’t think Eddie would openly admit his crush on Harrington to him like that. It would open a whole can of worms. Imply that there was something more. Something serious. If he was telling Wayne about it. It’s basically one step removed from meeting the parents. “About you and you-know-who?”

“Well no,” Eddie admits with a tilt of his head, swerving out of the way of a gaggle of sophomores, taking up the entire width of the hall. “But the old man can read me like a book. He knows things, I’m sure of it.”

Jeff snorts, leaning against the lockers as they stop at Eddie’s. Watching as he unlocks it, and sifts through the piles of shit he’s got in there. “You always say that about him, though. What makes this different?”

“He’s giving me looks, you know?” Eddie says into his locker, pulling out a ragged notebook and a stray textbook, before turning back to Jeff. “He’s figuring things out and he's going to be insufferable about it.”

Jeff snorts as Eddie shuts his locker, books in hand, as they head towards Jeff’s. They’ve still got time for once, normally Jeff heads to his locker alone, and Eddie arrives in a flurry later — speeding into the parking lot with a screech of his tyres. “Because your uncle has nothing better to do than speculate about your secret love life?”

“Exactly,” Eddie jokes, grinning back at Jeff. “But enough about me. Do you think you’ll meet her in your free period again?”

And thank god Eddie didn’t say her name, not here, surrounded by the teenage sharks of Hawkins. Any glimpse of vulnerability, something to exploit, the bottom feeders getting too big for their station — it was brutal.

“I’m not that lucky,” Jeff laughs, nudging Eddie’s side with his elbow.

“Wanna bet?” Eddie jokes, nudging Jeff’s side with his elbow. He’s biting his tongue to hold back his laughter.

“One’s enough thanks,” He replies. “And I am winning that one, by the way.”

“Oh eat shit Jeff,” Eddie laughs, before sobering dramatically, whirling around to face him. Continuing to walk down the hall at an angle, not looking where he’s going, Eddie continues. “But anyway, you can tell me how you wrong you are about you-know-who at band practice tonight.”

Jeff just rolls his eyes again, smiling, and heads to class.

—

There’s a buzzing, an itch, an anticipation, the second the bell rings and it’s Jeff’s free period. It bubbles up underneath his skin, threatening to break through, and nothing will quell it. Nothing except seeing her, or perhaps the confirmed absence of her presence.

He packs up his things, leaves the classroom, and heads towards the library. He has all his things — he can’t procrastinate by getting something from his locker. Plus, someone will absolutely try and steal his table if he does.

That’s his table, dammit.

So Jeff sighs — quietly, under his breath — and weaves through the halls to the library, hitching his bag further onto his shoulder. Eyes down, walking fast, avoiding the eye of any jock or jerk who might be lingering in the halls. It’s easier, when Hellfire is all together, a united force. It’s also easier with Eddie, acting larger than life, scary and dramatic — to scare the jocks away. Also helps that he’s the high school’s only dealer. If he cuts them off — and he will — then they’re fucked.

So he makes it to the library without incident — nodding a silent greeting to the librarian — before he weaves through the stacks to the shelf he needs. There’s a book he needs to check through for his English essay, and he’s reached the point where he’s stuck without it.

Bag hanging off one shoulder, weighing him down, making him feel more off kilter than normal — Jeff tilts his head as he reads through the spines of the books. Gently tabbing through them, pushing them aside with his fingers, trying desperately to ignore the swooping of his stomach. His wandering mind.

He’s not alone in the library, there are others wandering the shelves, claiming the tables, and Jeff absently watches them out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t see any strawberry blonde hair, no cheerleader uniform, so he averts his gaze back to the stacks. Swallows his tongue.

Sighing — he tries to be quiet about it, so people don’t glare at him, so the librarian doesn’t shush him — and eventually finds his book. Slides it out of the shelf, tucks it under one arms, and weaves his way back to his table. Off to the side, near the back of the library, nice and quiet. Undisturbed, not like the tables in the centre, right by the librarians desk. There’s always chatter, always people, always large study groups. It was peaceful at his table, no one else usually came by, but Jeff couldn’t help but wish for company this time.

And it was like he had jinxed it.

Rounding the corner, Jeff looks over to find someone sitting at his table. Jolting in place, eyes wide, he finds a pair of clear blue eyes looking at his.

Chrissy shrugs, almost shrinking into herself as she gives him a little wave. Smiling shyly, cheeks flushing, as she looks at him from over the table. Sat in her seat from last time, leaving Jeff’s usual seat free, her books and papers spread out on her half of the table. Hair curled out of her face, pinned back with pale green pins. Her eyeshadow matches, because of course it does. It’s cute. She’s cute, as usual.

“Funny seeing you here,” Jeff jokes, smiling shyly back at Chrissy, heading closer so he can take his usual seat. Puts his book on the table, places his bag down at his feet, and slides into the chair.

“Hey Jeff,” She says, voice light, almost a giggle as she watches him from over the table. He likes the way his name sounds in her mouth, the way her tongue forms around it, shaping the sounds. Lips curling around the letters, pink and pert, and shining with gloss. “Hope it’s okay I’m at your table. I was a little worried you weren’t gonna show up in time and wanted to save it for you.”

“That’s okay,” Jeff replies, smiling, feeling his heart flutter in his chest and butterflies swoop in his stomach. Was Chrissy waiting for him? Did she sit at his table so she could see him? Was he someone she wanted to take the time to see? He felt a little giddy, lost in the feeling, the delusion of it. The fantasy of being someone Chrissy wanted to see. “Thanks for saving it for me.”

“It was no worries,” Chrissy giggles, and he tries not to look at the subtle flush across her cheeks. “As long as you don’t mind a little company?”

“’Course not,” Jeff replies, trying to smother his own smile, not look too obvious. “It’s nice to have you.”

He watches as she bites her bottom lip, looks down at her notes, and then back up at Jeff, looking through her lashes. Coy, almost shy, tentative. Looks away himself, dragging his gaze away from hers, reaching down to get the rest of his things out of his bag. His notebook and pens, a worn copy of the book they’re supposed to be writing an essay on, dog-eared and sun-faded. Places it on the table next to the book from the stacks — from the same author, so he can do some fancy compare and contrasting that he knows the teacher is a sucker for.

Opens his notebook, finds his essay draft, and tries not to let his mind wander. To let his gaze find its way back to her like a magnet, pulled together inevitably. To find himself doodling love hearts on the page. So he finds his place, and tries to write. To let the ideas flow through him, seeping into the page along with the ink of his pen.

He lets the ticking of the clock fade into the background, with the hum of students going out their business, and the scratch of his pen on the page. The sound of Chrissy’s pen on the page. Actually gets some writing done, makes a solid dent in his English essay.

And so he lets himself drift for a second, sneak a glance at Chrissy — only to find her looking back. She curls into herself — shy, embarrassed, giggling — with a hand over her mouth to smother the sound. But she can’t stop looking at him. And he can’t stop looking at her back. Maybe he’s imagining it, but it feels like there’s something there. And if that something is only friendship, a fleeting crush — he’ll take it. He won’t push her for more than she’s willing to give. He’s lucky to get this much. Her sitting at his table, remembering his name, waiting for him.

He ducks his head, huffs out a laugh that’s more an exhale of air than anything else, and looks back up at Chrissy. She’s still looking at him.

“Sorry,” she says through her hand. “I’m staring like a total weirdo.”

“I like weird,” Jeff says, feeling like he’s melting and sounding entirely too sincere about it. “If you couldn’t tell.”

“Well in that case, thanks.” She laughs, moving her hand away so he can see how much she’s smiling. She looks down and bites her lips, pausing, considering — before looking back up at him. Locking eyes.

“We share all the same free period’s right?” Chrissy continues. “Would you want to meet here tomorrow, like, officially. Be study buddies.”

Oh fuck, Jeff thinks. She’s so cute. She wants to meet him again. Eddie is going to be absolutely insufferable about this. Because of course he is. Jeff’s glad he didn’t take that bet.

Something swells in his chest, expanding his lungs, covering his insides with something as sweet and sticky as honey. He smiles at her, letting that sweetness seep out of him. “I’d like that.”

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#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Jeff Stranger Things #Chrissy Cunningham #Jeff/Chrissy #Jeffingham #My Writing #Teenage Dream

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