#The one girl that more or less liked him left him barely weeks after they got back together

[ask-ozai]

I have heard some people say that you had a harem ? Did you ?

Iroh being a lazy womanizer damaged the family's public image irremediably, I see. Some of us have honor. I was busy ruling a country and trying to expand our Empire to finally fulfill the dream of my ancestors. I definitely had no time to pursue women (like Iroh). I was also not only a proper Prince, but a married man too. You should be asking Ursa if she didn't have more playthings hidden somewhere apart from Ikea.

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 4; ghoap x reader) part 1, part 2, part 3 tags: dubcon/noncon, nsfw

-

Much of Ghost’s behaviour is reactive. Oddly passive for the assumptions people often make of him. He doesn’t run from trouble, but certainly he doesn’t seek it out. Aside from a few rare deviations from the norm (running his father out of the city at eighteen, not breaking enough bones to count as restitution, and finally leaving home to enlist), that remains the rule. 

The way Johnny mopes for days after parading his bird around base has Ghost nearly rolling his eyes, already exasperated. He should’ve known his puppy wouldn’t share well. 

It’s worse than he expected though. Johnny mopes for a week straight after the fact, hardly able to meet Ghost’s eyes in briefings. He stares straight down at the floor pathetically, dragging his feet behind him when he’s dismissed. Price notices it right away, raising an eyebrow at Ghost after Johnny leaves the room. 

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach.

“In the dog house, I reckon. His girl’s pissed at him.”

“Your doing?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Ghost replies smoothly, face giving away nothing.

Price is hardly convinced. “I’m sure. Nothing to do with you.”

Ghost doesn’t answer that. He waits until he’s dismissed and then takes off down the same hall Johnny just left, curious about wherever his boy’s slunk off to. 

He can’t help the latent sadistic streak in him that curls up in pleasure at the sight of Johnny pouting and squirming whenever he walks into the room. Still, his attitude will need to be rectified soon enough—there’s only so much Ghost will tolerate, only so much disrespect he’ll turn a blind eye to. One day Johnny will look back and reflect on this, and appreciate the extent of Ghost’s magnanimity. 

Still, he doesn’t enjoy being ignored. One week bleeds into the beating heart of the next and Ghost realizes that he’s had enough of the silent treatment. He’s given Johnny more than enough time to come to terms with their new situation. 

He tracks him down to the armoury on a Monday evening after most of the other soldiers have already left for the day, back home or eating supper in the mess hall. It’s empty apart from the two of them, and when Johnny finally notices his presence in the room, his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t flinch at least. Good boy. He’s gotten better at being less reactive, less shaky about being caught off guard. 

“Done for the day, sergeant?” He keeps it light to start, taking a step closer. 

Johnny tenses at the approach. “Yes, sir.” The title would usually satisfy on its own, but it comes strained, polite but removed. 

“Where’d you come from?”

“Layouts and gunners training, sir.”

On any other day, Johnny’s deference might come as a lovely note to end the day on, but not today. It rankles now, the edge of his voice sweetened by a kind of silent dismissal, not giving any more information than what’s required of him. Nothing like the boy who used to open his mouth and sing the world back to him. Ghost has earned his every thought. 

“We have a problem, Soap?”

“No, sir,” Johnny grumbles, still not meeting his eyes. His mouth barely moves when he says the words, teeth all but grit. 

No dealing with this temper tantrum like adults then. For all Johnny must carp and bitch to himself about the hardships that Ghost has put him through, he seems to have no desire to actually deal with the problem. That’s too bad. It would’ve been easy enough to talk it out like grown men.

They’ll have to come to terms some other way.

“Come. We’re fixing this attitude of yours now,” Ghost grunts, turning before Johnny has the opportunity to complain and marching down the hall towards the gym. 

He hears Johnny make a sound like an angry bull before following him down the hall. The loud footfalls against the tile floor betray his simmering anger; it reveals to Ghost what he already knew intuitively. His boy still needs to learn to play well with others. 

In time, this anger will fade into the ether, replaced by Johnny’s old doggish need to please Ghost, but it’s causing too many problems now to be tolerated. He hasn’t gotten to see the bird since the week before. Doesn’t even have a photo of his own to look at when he rubs one out. It would be less aggravating if Johnny were willing to spread his legs and let Ghost rut between his thighs, but they aren’t there yet.

The gym is empty as it usually is around early evening when Ghost opens the door, the lights off from whoever last used it. Johnny follows him sullenly, dragging his feet about it. Ghost’s eye ticks at the show of attitude persisting into this space.

“Lock it behind you,” Ghost says without looking back at him, crossing to where the mats are on the other side of the gym. 

Neither of them are dressed to spar, still clad in their fatigues, but his blood cranks up to boiling when he turns around to watch as Johnny crosses the room angrily, picking up steam now as well. He comes in hot, not even bothering to suss out Ghost’s first move before launching himself at him. 

Ghost staggers back a step at the hit, but he takes it in stride, shifting his weight and using Johnny’s momentum to throw him off, sending him sprawling. He’s quick to get back to his feet, but that moment of carelessness gives Ghost everything he needs. The next time Johnny throws himself at him, Ghost lets him get an arm around his leg and nearly grins to himself when he feels Johnny put all his weight into trying to flip him. 

He knows strength isn’t everything, but there’s something to be said about the several inches and even more kilos he has on Johnny. That plus a decade’s worth of experience. Sparring devolves into a sweat-slicked grapple, Johnny’s shirt coming untucked and rucked up, his hair mussed. He tries to go for the mask, eyes gleaming with a wet, savage glint—forgetting decorum or tact, and just going for the most underhanded maneuver. 

He pays for it when Ghost takes him hard to the floor, catching him with a leg sweep that he might’ve been able to avoid if he were fighting with a clear mind. Anger makes him sloppy though. 

“Fuckin’ bastard—” Johnny grunts when he hits the floor, narrowly avoiding clipping his chin against the mat. 

“Folks never married, so guess you’re right,” Ghost remarks, unbothered. Hardly winded even, only the lightest sheen of sweat on his brow, obscured by the mask. 

His sudden divulgence makes Johnny falter. So rarely does Ghost open even a crack that the momentary honesty catches him off guard, giving Ghost the opportunity to wrangle him into a tight hold. 

Pinning Johnny isn’t an easy task because the kid fights dirty when he feels cornered. Lashes out wildly with his fists when Ghost gets an arm around his neck and holds him in place, less precise than when he’s coolheaded, but still brutal, all raw strength packed behind his punches. He twists Johnny over onto his stomach when the boy tries to buck him off, slamming him down hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Gonna tell me what’s got you all riled up now?” Ghost asks, twisting Johnny’s arms behind his back to pin him in place. 

He struggles in Ghost’s hold, trying to find a weak point. The search is fruitless. Ghost’s body weighs him down like a boulder pinning him flush to a dirt-streaked mountainside, forcing the air out of his lungs when he presses down harder. 

“Ye cannae just take her from me—” he spits out, face flushed. He kicks out a foot, trying to free himself, but all Ghost does is shift slightly to press his shin to Johnny’s calf, holding it down. “I told ye she was different and ye had to—and now she willnae even fuckin’ talk to me. Barely texts me, willnae answer my calls. I cannae—I can’…” 

His voice trails off on a hitch. Not quite a sob, but a frustrated, wretched sound. 

“Held that in for a while, didn’t ya?” Ghost murmurs, holding Johnny down with ease when he struggles again, trying to wrench his arms out of Ghost’s hold. 

“I almost fuckin’—almost just fuckin’ gave her to ye,” Johnny says, shame thick in his voice. “Thought maybe it wouldnae be worth…jus’ dinnae want a girl coming between us. But she’s—I told ye, Lt, she’s special, I cannae jus’—I cannae jus’ let her go. And now she doesnae want anythin’ to do with me.”

Ghost doesn’t bother pointing out the absurdity of that statement. As if Johnny could give him something that’s already his. 

“Not trying to steal your bird, Johnny.” He taps Johnny’s cheek, a little reprimand. It makes him blink and scrunch up his nose. “What’d be the point of that?”

He forgets how young Johnny is sometimes, just now nearing the end of his twenties. Still wet behind the ears, all blood flushed and pink cheeked. Green still to the realities of the world and Ghost’s presence in his life (permanent, fixed; unchanging). 

There isn’t a version of him that wants someone who doesn’t also want Johnny. Inconceivable. After everything that they’ve been through together, the root of him and what he wants is inextricably tied with what Johnny wants—at times, Ghost almost wishes he could live inside his head, just a constant stream of Johnny’s thoughts into his. 

Johnny twists his head enough to glare over his shoulder at Ghost. “The fuck are ye on about? Ye grabbed her ass in front of God ‘n everyone, for Christ’s sake. Said your intentions loud ‘n clear.”

“‘Course I did. She’s got a nice arse, doesn’t she?”

“You’re really startin’ to fuck with my head, Ghost, I dinnae understand what ye—”

“You keep running your mouth off about trying to take the girl from you—I don’t need to take anything.” He stresses the word to be clear, forcing Johnny back down when he tries to buck Ghost off again. This time he stays in place, both calves pinned down to the mat, cheek pressed into the fabric when Ghost slots a hand into the scruff of his mohawk, forcing his head down. “Quit struggling—you’re not getting back up. We’re sorting this shit out now so you quit moping around base and giving me a fuckin’ headache.”

“Stop exaggerating—I havenae even opened my mouth around ye in days. I’m no’ doing anything to your head—”

“How the fuck am I supposed to think when you keep running away?”

The air hangs heavy in the wake of his words, the oxygen all but sucked out of the room. 

“The two of you are mine,” Ghost says in a low, harsh voice, the sound making Johnny flinch against the mat. “I’m not asking for just one of you. You’re out of your fuckin’ mind if you think I’d leave you out of this, mutt.”

He’d sooner lose them both, but that’s another scenario that he’d never tolerate. 

With some effort, Ghost tips Johnny over onto his back, holding him down before he can start to struggle again. He keeps his wrists trapped behind his back, forcing Johnny to arch his back off the floor, presenting himself. From his vantage point, it’s easy for Ghost to flick his gaze down and find Johnny’s dick pressed hard against the zipper of his pants, all plumped up from being pinned to the ground. 

“Good, you’re already hard,” Ghost grunts approvingly, rolling his hips down to alleviate some of the pressure building up in his groin. “Haven’t come since she left the other week, I bet.”

Panic flares red hot in Johnny’s eyes, widening when Ghost settles deeper between his legs, his own hard cock unmistakable. “Wait—wait, Ghost—I’m no’—I’m no’—”

It would be a stretch to say that anything softens in him, but a part of Ghost does feel for the boy. He’s been around Johnny long enough to know his persuasion—strictly women with the occasional appreciative glances towards some men. An appreciation he relegates to furtive, guilty glances, holding it inside of him like a nasty secret that he’ll never part with. Too riddled with Catholic guilt and the ease of just playing it straight. 

Ghost has no intention of making it easy on him though. 

He tries to imagine what it might be like if he were on the other end, but for him it’s only ever been cunts and Johnny and the bird. Now just the latter two hold any weight. 

His protests only last as long as it takes Ghost to unfasten their belts and zippers, fishing Johnny’s cock out first. The second his rough hand wraps around Johnny’s length, the words die on the boy’s lips, replaced by a choked off grunt. His balls are full enough to corroborate Ghost’s words—he probably hasn’t come since seeing his girl off the other day, too frustrated and upset to jack off, the ducts shut, working himself up into a frothy mess only for it to slip right out of his hands at the last second. 

Johnny’s eyes roll back when Ghost grips both their cocks in his fist, slicking his hand up with Johnny’s precome. Sweat sluices down the sides of his neck. He looks good with his tongue tied up in knots, thoughts emptying out through his ears in rivulets. 

Even with Ghost’s hand as big as it is, he can’t wrap it all the way around the two of them. Johnny’s come provides a nice glide though, lubricating the underside of his shaft when Ghost grinds up into his fist. 

It spurs him into a kind of ​​protolithic fervour, desperate only to come. The iron rich scent of blood and sweat makes Ghost salivate, eyes drawn to the tender skin of his neck, the flush now riding high, up and over his cheekbones. Lips bitten red, also swollen with blood. In a better mood, Ghost might indulge him, might roll up his mask and lick into the wet mouth hanging open deliciously, teasing him, but there’ll be time for that later. 

He slurs out Ghost’s name when he comes, Simon ripped from his lips like it was dug clean out of his soul. His come splatters across his belly and shirt in thin, watery spurts, the wind knocked out of him again. 

Johnny squirms when Ghost doesn’t let go of their cocks, hand still dragging up and down, mumbling that he’s too sensitive, fuck, lemme go, I cannae—

“I’ll stroke your cock and grab the bird’s ass whenever I feel like it,” Ghost growls down at him, at the end of his patience now. He pants out a ragged breath when his cock throbs at a particularly whorish moan dropping broken from Johnny’s mouth. “I’ll nut in her cunt and make you lick it out if I want. And you’ll fuckin’ thank me for giving you a taste.”

Johnny almost goes nonverbal at that, a leg trying to kick out weakly even though it’s still pinned down under Ghost’s heavy thigh. His dick twitches against Ghost’s, a valiant effort. 

When Ghost comes, it settles in a thick, viscous mess across Johnny’s stomach, pooling around his belly button. It radiates hot down his back, the ache in his lower spine abating momentarily. Can only imagine how much better it would feel balls deep in Johnny’s ass or the bird’s pussy, a wet warmth clutching him tight, legs wrapped around his waist to drag him closer. 

He’ll have that soon enough.

A ragged wheeze is pulled from Johnny’s chest when Ghost drags his cock through it, spreading it over his stomach. It’s worse when Ghost dips his fingers into the mess, a sticky blend of both their come, before bringing his fingers up to Johnny’s mouth, forcing them past his lips and over his teeth and gums. Johnny sputters at the taste, going cross-eyed to look down at Ghost’s hand. 

There’s no time for pillowtalk or soft words though. Even if there were, niceties come out of Ghost’s mouth like a ring of smoke. Still, the thought of the bird not returning Johnny’s calls or texts makes him bristle, his annoyance renewed. His own disinclination to communicate aside—a waste of words as far as Ghost’s concerned, he says more with his actions anyway—none of this works if the girl won’t talk it out. 

Probably pent up, the stubborn thing. He’ll have to sort that out too. It keeps him young at least. 

“C’mon, Johnny,” Ghost says, rising to his feet. He dusts his hands off on his fatigues as if nothing happened, then holds out a hand for Johnny to grab. “Let’s go see our bird.”

[gutsby]

Wingman

Pairing: Himbo!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Warnings: 18+. Period crackfic starring Himbo!Joel—don’t take it too seriously. R has a uterus that hates her. Mentions of blood, cramps, & hangover-induced puking. Dirty talk, f!masturbation. One (1) Mean Girls reference.

Word count: 1.7k

You were fucked ten ways to Wednesday if you didn’t get your hands on some soap, a steamer, and a supersized box of maxi-pads in the span of the next eleven minutes.

Joel Miller moved like molasses on a flat slab of granite.

“WILL YOU HURRY— THE FUCK— UP?”

Your cheeks were hot. The night air was cold.

Every other word that managed to claw out of your throat was punctuated by a breath—your stomach clenched, and the sex organ below it was in hysterics.

Joel continued to lace up his loafer, clumsy as ever.

“O-kay, okay,” he hummed, “Steamer, soap, and, uh…”

“Pads!”

“Uh-huh. Right. So what kinda…blood stuff is it, again?”

The words were like an aspersion on his tongue. At the ripe old age of forty-seven, Joel still hadn’t quite learned to jibe with the menstrual product lingo, and it showed.

“Heavy flow. Any brand. With wings,” you hissed.

“Boneless or traditional?”

And if he hadn’t been standing outside the truck, foot propped up against the driver’s seat while he tied his shoe, you likely would’ve smacked him upside the head. The glare you gave him was sufficiently vicious to extinguish the smirk, though. Your hand made a fist in the front of your dress, and you groaned, leaning inward.

Joel got the picture and finished his bunny ears quick.

“Sorry.”

Then, a little more sheepish as he straightened up,

“I’m goin’. Be just a minute.”

And he was off.

Your body curled into a ball as soon as he left. It cried in pain, to nothing and no one around but that fugly slut, the nastiest skank bitch you’d ever met, your uterus.

There was no way you and Joel were making it to this rehearsal dinner. You needed to be at the venue by 7:00, the clock on the dash read 6:11, and you were, currently, twenty miles shy of Fredericksburg with a rag between your legs and your best friend scouring the local H-E-B.

That afternoon you’d been running late, so of course you’d thrown on your thin, satin, pre-wedding-ready dress before you left—and forgotten a change of clothes. Joel had been hungover from all the batshit bachelor party antics, so of course you’d had to stop three times along the way just so he could throw up on the side of the road. And, though your friend was many, many things, discreet was not one of them, so of course he’d told you, point-blank, when he saw you reaching for something in the backseat with your butt sticking up:

“You been pissin’ tomato juice or somethin’?”

And you’d looked back in abject horror.

Of course your period had come a week early and made you bleed straight through your bright yellow dress.

Maria was your best friend. You were her maid of honor. Tommy’s groomsmen happened to be the most fuckable bunch you’d ever seen—save for Joel—so there was no way you’d be caught dead at that dinner with the flag of Japan on your ass. And Maria had bought the dress just for you, so you felt like you had to get this bloodstain out.

You lifted your head to peer out the window. Even with the help of a fistful of ibuprofen, you could barely move.

6:29

“Dude, where are you?!”

It was like your phone and the FaceTime call to Joel had just materialized on their own. The man on the screen was blinking slow. Ogling something in front of him.

“So ‘L’ stands for…long?” he said after a beat.

“No, that’s light, Joel, I need a heavy one.”

“This one’s got cardboard in it, I think.”

“That’s a tampon applicator, dipshit.”

In a blink, Joel’s eyes flitted to his phone. His nostrils flared, and he met your gaze with a scowl of his own.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know that? Only stuck two— three things in a pussy before and it sure as fuck wasn’t cotton,” he griped, and if he were any less mature he likely would’ve rolled his eyes. Drama king.

You winced as another cramp rolled through you. You shook your head and tried to regain your composure.

“Just find a heavy-flow. pad. with wings. for me. Please.”

Joel sighed and turned back to the shelf, eyes searching.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was. You had no doubt Joel had never willingly touched a pussy product before in his life, so the road ahead was treacherous. Silently, you felt the urge to tell him he had no business being in pussy at all if he didn’t bother to learn what came out of one every month, but you let him cook.

His dark, greyish brows drew together in concentration. He leaned forward and reached for a box. Then stopped.

Went low to grab another, before pausing to show you.

“Very close, Joel. That’s a pantyliner.”

You felt somewhat like a mother showing a headstrong four-year-old how to copy shapes onto paper. No, darling, that’s a diva cup—and be careful with that crayon. Joel stood and he stewed and, by the look in his eyes, you’d already resigned yourself to another ten minutes of this back-and-forth rummaging at least.

Then you shifted in your seat, pushing your legs down a bit. They rubbed, of course. In spite of the pain that had seized your whole lower half, you felt a sweet, dull pulse.

You stared hard at Joel’s face on-screen to make sure he hadn’t seen it in yours, but damn that friction felt nice.

Sensitivity elevated with the influx of hormones, no doubt, you sat tight and tried to enjoy the feeling on purpose for a moment. You slowly sucked in a breath.

“Aw, hell, there’s just too many’a these damn boxes.”

You flexed your thigh muscles and let out a sigh.

“I don’t know how y’all do it,” Joel grumbled.

Keep looking, Miller. Just keep looking.

Slowly, your hips began to stir, and one small grain of pleasure gave way to a jolt—a twist in the pit of your belly that made the pain less grating. You leaned into it more.

Holding your phone, you could feel when Joel let out a frustrated groan. The sound low and almost enticing.

Wait.

Wait.

“Gross,” you said out loud, half-whispered.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was one of your closest friends; a man who loved beer die, Pall Malls, and Keith Whitley like nobody’s business and gave suffocating bear hugs whenever he was sweaty just to gross you out. You weren’t supposed to find men like that attractive.

But when the grit of his voice was just so nice…

“What?” Joel stopped to look down again.

“What?” you shot back, instantly.

A frown tugged at his lips.

“What’s ‘gross’? Me?”

Not…exactly, no.

More disgusted with yourself than anyone else, you clamped your legs together and shook your head. You tried to swallow, as if the action might suck the pleasure down with it, but the hot, throbbing sensation only grew.

You were practically grinding into the towel that had been stuffed between your thighs when you heard:

“Wings!”

An exceptionally proud Joel displayed a box of extra heavy-duty maxi-pads, with wings. He was grinning.

You weren’t sure if you thanked him next, congratulated the man, or what. You probably strung some words together and tried to return the smile as best you could, but who knew? The next thing you saw was that the line had gone dead, the truck was silent, and all that could be heard above the hum of the engine were your moans.

You braced yourself against the seat and rolled your hips even harder. Out of habit, you caught your lip between your teeth to prevent a louder sound from escaping, but then you remembered there was no one to hear you but you—for now. Your palm pressed flat on the dashboard, your knees squeezed even closer, and your vision flooded with soft, minuscule pinpricks of an all-too-familiar hue.

The only thing new to you here was Joel—the thought of him had never crossed your mind in moments like these.

But now you were closing your eyes, humping the seat with nothing between your body and the old, weathered upholstery but a scrap of fabric. And you were moaning his name. Imagining a face that was littered with coarse, grey stubble—you might’ve teased him for that once or twice before—and lips that were soft. So soft against your own that you wouldn’t think twice if he tried to slip his tongue inside and hold the sides of your face as he filled your cunt to the brim. In fact, Joel’s mouth would be a welcome distraction. Knowing how foul he was in even friendly confab, he’d undoubtedly be whispering the most vile things in your ear while he fucked you.

Reminding you, quietly, that you made such a pretty cocksleeve for him—why didn’t we try this sooner?— and how you’d be the sweetest thing if you just gave his cock another squeeze and made yourself cum all over it.

The mental image of that alone was inducement enough.

You felt a hot, euphoric band of something start to give way inside you. It tightened up, twisted—then snapped. Your mouth fell open and your thighs clenched tighter, grinding desperately in tandem with a pace you’d hoped Joel might’ve set if he were laying there underneath you. You clung to one last thought of him gripping your hips and bruising your walls with the force of his cock driving in and out, over and over again until, eventually, his cum was leaking out through each fluid thrusting movement. It was all your body could take, conjuring thoughts of his load spilling into you and onto him in warm, wet, sticky—

Whistling.

Someone was whistling outside. Walking up to the truck.

You were still coming down from the staggering heights of your climax when the driver’s side door swung open. You blinked furiously, as though to drive all the filth and depravity and need from your eyes before he could see.

It didn’t matter.

Joel was too amped up off a white plastic baggy to be concerned with much else as he plopped down beside you and smiled—beamed, really. Completely oblivious.

Your extremities were still twitching with the residuum of bliss when he reached for your hand. His eyes somehow warmer than they’d been all that day, they sparkled and shone and crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed to say the words before his mouth had uttered a sound.

“I got three boxes to be safe…”

Joel was really too sweet.

“…and some chocolate for your cramps…”

Always so considerate.

“…and you look real pretty when you cum, by the way.”

This motherfucker.

[igotanidea]

Weekend came early: Jason Todd x reader

WARNING: SMUT MDNI!

A/N: I wish you all happy, evenful weekend ;)

***

It was just teasing. Nothing more. She really didn’t plan for it to end up like this.

Or—

Given how good she knew Jason’s tendency to get jealous easily--

Maybe she actually did?

***

It was Friday evening, the best day of the week, since there was two free out-of-work days on the horizon. Days Jason and Y/N were supposed to spend together for the first time in forever. He promised her that – no fighting, no blood, no patching up injuries and no vigilante bullshit.

But.

His promise only encompassed Saturday and Sunday, never including Friday.

Friday was the day when – as usual he was going to go on patrol and beat the shit out of some thugs, while playing the anti-hero.

And that left Y/N forced to tend to herself. To take care of herself in every possible meaning  of the word.

“What are you up to?” he peeked into the bedroom, observing his girlfriend, who was currently sitting in front of the mirror putting on her makeup and doing her hair, which was surprising to say the least. Ever since they met each other, years ago, dolling up and Y/N were two words that had rarely fitted in one sentence. Of course, since she was a woman, mascara, eyeshadows, lipstick and all other  make-up stuff Jason didn’t know the name of, was coming in handy sometimes, but--!. What the hell was she doing dressing up while he was about to go out?! Why was her hair shiny and flowing down her shoulders and back like a waterfall giving away the most intoxicating smell of her shampoo? Why were her lips red and her eyes so fucking seductive, highlighted by the distinct make up he never saw her wearing before!? And that look she gave him upon hearing his words? That teasing smile that adorned her face?!

WHO THE FUCK WAS SHE DOLLING UP FOR?!

What?” she teased turning towards him with a glint in the eyes. “Can’t a girl look good for herself? Am I supposed to wear sweatpants and have tear stains on my face just because you are out red hooding?”

“YES!” he had to put a hell lot of effort to prevent himself from bursting out with all the rage boiling inside him. Instead he settled on clenching his fist as a substitute for punching the wall. “Yes, you’re supposed to be pretty only for me!” Jason couldn’t care less that he was sounding like a male chauvinist.

“Now that’s a little mean, don’t you think?” she grinned innocently, batting her eyelashes freshly mascara-painted “I thought I was pretty all the time, not only when—“

“DO NOT FUCKING PLAY WITH ME Y/N!” it was so hard to hold back all that rage, jealousy, fear and the sudden feeling of betrayal. Almost as if the upcoming taking on the role of the Red Hood was influencing his behaviour as Jason Todd, the boyfriend¸ who was  always caring and gentle and loving.

Huh, apparently not anymore…..

Y/N only rolled her eyes in response, absolutely unfazed by the sudden change of tone, quickly putting finishing touches and getting up from behind the dressing table. Allowing Jason to see her fucking dress for the first time.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING IN THIS!?”

That piece of material was barely covering her, but perfectly accentuated her body, all those ideally shaped curves in all the right places.

His curves.

Fuck, he could already feel himself growing, the tactical pants becoming tight in the places they were not supposed to at the moment. She was doing it on purpose cause it was impossible that after all those years together she was oblivious and this stupid.

“Something wrong, baby?” her hips swayed when she took a few steps forward and put her hand on his bare shoulder. Right, cause he was only wearing his pants and no chest armour and jacket when her unusual preparations caught his attention, causing him to emerge from the bathroom.

“Where the hell are you going?!” he hissed  moving away from her touch despite all the instincts telling him otherwise.

“Oh, you know it’s nothing, just—“

“I told you to not play with me.”

“And I told you repeatedly that I am not intimidated by –“

‘Well maybe you should be.”  Just one move of his almost got her cornered. Almost, being the key word here, since the girl saw right through him, capably sneaking away.

“Don’t act crazy Jason. I’m just going out to have some fun.”

“FUN?!”

“Yeah.” she said in a completely innocent tone reaching for her coat “with my other boyfriend”

Jason froze.

Only for a second though.

And then his blood boiled.

She said other boyfriend.

“What did you just say?” the atmosphere in the apartment turned from playful and teasing into serious and heavy in a blink of an eye. “How many other boys do you have?!”

“Three, currently. “

“THREE?!”

“Had more, but cut down when we started dating. Besides you’re still my favourite so I don’t understand why you’re so angry about it. You’re the best in bed and -“

“WHAT?!!”  Was she even serious!  If Jason was the best that meant she had something to compare. Which could have only indicated that Y/N-. “You slept with someone else other than me!?”

Just the thought of other man kissing her in a way only he was allowed to, was too much. And there was a clear indication that there was more than just kissing. Other man- men- touched her. Traced her body, felt her moving underneath him, heard her calling- moaning- his name, had her hands all over him. Tasted her in a way that was reserved only for him. For Jason Peter Todd. Her fucking boyfriend.  

 “No.” he hissed grabbing her wrist and spinning her to him before she reached the door. “No.” Y/N met with eyes filled with lust and rage.

“What are you--?” she stuttered feeling him press her into the wall, not doing anything explicit, yet, but observing her like a prey, leaving minimum space between their bodies, once again trying to intimidate her and making it work this time.

“You won’t allow anyone to do what I do to you.” He leaned to whisper in her ear, hot breath laced with possessiveness hit her face “You understand me princess?” the unexpected grip and caress on her hips caused a little shiver to run through her body. “You’re mine. M-I-N-E, baby…” 

“You’re—You’re not the boss of me—“ she whimpered making it a little less firm than intended.

“Oh, I am not the boss?” he smirked tightening the grip on her, running fingers over her side, hooking over the hem of her short dress, tracing over her smooth thigh. “Maybe I should show you otherwise then?”

“I’m going—“ Y/N squirmed reaching for the doorknob

“Oh baby, I’m not really letting you.” Her wrist was gripped and pinned back to the wall next to her side stopping her from any movement.

“Good luck stopping me-“

There was really no space for her to fight him anymore, with those vigilante eyes tuned in on the slightest change in her expression, but she was trying nonetheless.

“You really want me to let you go, baby?” his lips brushed her cheek, his body pressing more into her. “Let another man touch you? Kiss you? See what belongs to me?” Jason’s thigh pressed between her legs causing her instinctive reaction in the form of grinding on it. “are you going to sleep with him?” he lifted the hem of her dress, reaching fingers to the inside of her thigh getting the exact shiver he craved.

“Yes!” she squealed even though her behaviour didn’t match the words at all.

“No, baby.”  He smiled softly, but his eyes were brutal and it wasn’t hard to guess what was coming for her if she kept on pushing and defying any longer.

“Ye-“

She never finished that sentence, getting pressed into the wall as Jason’s strong body claimed hers. He was done being gentle, biting her bottom lip, lifting her dress all the way up, instantly tearing off her little fancy panties, grabbing the back of her thighs wrapping her legs around him.

Grinding into her heat with the urgency and power of a predator brought to extreme.

The kiss was brutal to say the least. Almost violent. Boosted by the thought of her in the arms of another man. He won’t ever let it happen. She was his.

His, his, his. Only his.

And he was not going to share.

“Jason—“ she whimpered, but he didn’t listen. He was already ripping the upper part of her dress of, biting her neck, moving lips over her collarbone, kissing the part of her breast that weren’t covered by the bra. Marking the soft skin, making sure to leave a reminder who she belonged to. In case she forgot.

“Shit…” she moaned pulling at his hair, tightening her legs on him, leaving a wet trail on the pants he still had on.

Those actions only spurred him on, pushing him to rip off her bra, not caring whether it might have been expensive or her favourite, it had to go. Her breasts and those already stiff, pebbled nipples being the main object of his interest at the moment.

“Mine.” He hissed with voice hoarse, deep, full of uncontrollable lust for her body, grabbing onto the soft bosom, palming it and squeezing mercilessly in primal need to see the hand-shaped bruises all over it. “mine”. The other breast was devoured with his lips and tongue that was capably tasting her nipple, flicking and licking in that perfect way that never failed to make her melt into him. He knew exactly where and how to touch to elicit the perfect sounds and turn them both on to the extreme. For example, he was fully aware that tracing one finger at her sensitive spot, just at the swell of her chest, close to the side would make her cry out in pleasure and get even more wet. Making it so much easier to slid inside later.

“Jason!!” she grinded on him, raking nails down his back, scratching and leaving red marks in their wakes. Her back arched to him, wanting rather to feel his warm, broad bare chest rather than cold hard wall he was relentlessly pressing her into, getting possessive, dominant in the need to trap her.

His mind was screaming with simple thoughts: Possess her. Own her. Devour her.  Fuck her brains out.

They were already high, not even getting to the best part yet. And damn, she was dripping from the need of him.

“Jason—“

“Yeah?” he gasped pulling back only to resume his touches, tracing over her thigh getting another string of desperate mewls, smirking in complacency. “what did you want to say princess….?”

“I—“

“I’m listening….” His lips moved higher, brushing over her breast, neck, jaw, moving towards her earlobe, which he bit lightly. “You have my whole attention…”

“Mhm…” she tried to reach to his zipper, but Jason couldn’t let her have what she wanted just yet. She need to be taught what exclusivity meant. “Need you—“

“I know baby…” he smirked again, grinding his hardness more into her. Her sobbing and pleading didn’t do much to change his mind

“Please!” she sobbed, trying once more to free him, but ending up with hands pinned above her head completely helpless and at his mercy. She awoken the animal.

“Say my name princess.”

“Jason!”

“who do you belong to!?”

“You!” she moaned through the tears of need, burning from the desire to feel him, touch him, aching for the sensation only he could bring her.

“That’s fucking right. ME.”

One movement and one scream later she finally got what she wanted. It was just so easy for him to claim her given the fact she was already dripping with arousal.

At this point control was out the window.

Pushing, pulling, moving.

Lips clashing, teeth biting, hands exploring each other's bodies like they were meeting the soft skin and defined muscles all over again. Building the intensity and pleasure as never before.

Pain and pleasure.

Possessiveness and softness.

Her.

His.

Yes.

Almost there!

She was so soft, so warm, so fucking delicious and wet.

He was covered with sweat unable to hold back grunts and squeezing her body, hurting her and adoring all at once.

So close...

Yes....

Yes, yes, yes!

When she screamed his name one more time, digging nails into his back with the force she didn’t know she had, he had no choice but to follow right after.

Never ever before falling into the bottomless pit were so good.

Becoming one.

***

“Was I too rough?”

They vaguely remembered the moment when Jason, with the last of his strength, filled with care and bliss, cradled her in his arms carrying to the bed.

Silkiness of the sheets, gentle kisses and caresses, devoid of rush and voracity were the most stark and the most welcomed contrast to what they did against the wall some time earlier.

“No.” she smiled at him, their blissful eyes meeting. ‘I mean, maybe a little, but no.”

“Well in my defence—“ he started, the guilt upon seeing all her bruises and bite marks taking hold on him.

“There’s no one else but you.” Her soft voice and subtle touch on his cheek cut him off.

“But-“

“I lied.” She sighed, not apologising about it.

 “What? Why?”

“I don’t even know now.” Y/N rolled on her back, stretching herself without covering her body testing Jason’s self-control once more.

“Is there a possibility you missed me that much it forced you to push me past my limits?” he smirked, tracing one finger over her exposed belly in a very suggestive manner.

“You’re such a prick Jason Todd. I’m not adding to your blown up ego…”

“Maybe not with words—“ he laughed not stopping his actions, enjoying the Goosebumps that covered her body. “Admit it. You did miss me.”

“Mh. It’s impossible to wait till Saturday and Sunday to have you all to myself” She muttered

“Well I suppose the weekend came early for you baby.” He rolled on top of her starting another round.

Red hood, duties and that little dent in the wall that would cause them to say goodbye to the deposit money, has just became meaningless for the upcoming two and a half days.

[moonchildstyles]

Ooooh I would love to see Prosecco h taking care of his pretty girl when she is sick :( and maybe she doesn’t tell him she’s sick but he finds out and is like 🥺

sooooo! I changed this just a little but I hope you still like it! thank you sm for requesting!!!!

wordcount: 7.5k

—————

(Y/N) smiled, listening back to the voicemail Harry left for her this morning. 

Those small gifts had become her favorite thing to wake up to, eager to hear his voice and know that he was thinking of her even when he had been in a rush to get to the office. More often than not, she was greeted with a stream of consciousness message about all of the things he was doing or needed to get done before he could head out, along with tender declarations that he would talk to her soon, and that she was on his mind. It was never anything particularly grand or cloyingly romantic, but (Y/N) saved every single one of them. Hearing his voice was a part of her morning routine now, she couldn't go without. 

Though she was just as in love with this recording as the others, there was a slight sticky quality to his voice this morning. It was extra thick, seemingly heavy on his tongue as if he had a stuffy nose. But, he didn't mention anything about feeling under the weather. 

She would have to check up on him later, she decided. Send him a text or call him on his lunch to make sure it wasn't anything more than allergies or those cold symptoms that seemed to pop up in the morning before a cup of coffee could flush out his sinuses. 

Once the voicemail ended, Harry finishing with a small "I love you", (Y/N) pulled the phone from her ear, scanning through the rest of the notifications she ignored in favor of hearing his voice. There was nothing more to read than a couple of flags reminding her the schedule she had input on her phone and some social media messages from the girls she was growing closer to from her classes. 

Bypassing those minute messages, she pulled up Harry's contact thread. Typing out a message, she reveled in the soft cushioning of her bed with her boyfriend on her mind. 

     i just listened to ur voicemail🤍 i hope ur day gets less busy but I love u too soooo much 

     also it sounded like u were a little sick over the phone are u okay?:( 

Starting her day slowly, (Y/N) took her time getting ready, checking her phone here and there in hopes of receiving a response from Harry. It wasn't until she had a cardigan draped over her shoulders and bag on her shoulder, walking out the door, that her phone vibrated. 

Though she knew that Harry would scold her if he saw how distracted she was crossing the parking lot to her car, phone in hand, she didn't really care. Especially when it was his notification that she was enamored with. 

H🤍       My day's already getting better since hearing from you, love. Would it be alright if I call you on my lunch? I miss you. 

      No, I'm not sick, just allergies. Thank you for checking on me🩷

Her heart bubbled in her chest as she climbed into her car, a bashful grin splitting her cheeks. She could hear his messages in his voice, lingering over the soft sentiment that he missed her. Before pulling out of the parking lot she made sure to let him know that she was more than okay with him giving her a call later, attaching multiple hearts and kisses to the text. 

She hoped she made him smile like he did for her. 

—————

Blindly reaching for her phone to cancel her alarm, (Y/N) barely cracked her eyes open when she brought the device to her face. The time blinked up top, an early class alarm having pulled her from her dreams. Thursdays were always the worst day of the week in her eyes; she had to wake up extra early, wait around on campus after her morning classes ended because the hour-long gap between her afternoon courses was too short to head home, and most of her deadlines were set for 11:59pm that night. She dreaded starting her day when it came to Thursdays. 

Allowing herself a moment of reprieve, taking an extra long blink of her eyes, (Y/N) finally sat up with the motivating thought of seeing what Harry had left her in his voicemail. 

Blinking the sleep from her gaze, she swiped through her phone with sleep-shaky fingers. She absently pulled up her call log, expecting to see a missed call from Harry, attached with a voicemail to start her day with. 

When there was no red bubble denoting a notification or a text message informing her of a missed voicemail, (Y/N) blinked extra hard in hopes of clearing her vision. When she recovered, coming to her senses more and more, there was still nothing to be seen. 

Harry hadn't called her. 

A pout formed on her lips. He never missed calling her in the morning. Since this had become a regular thing, there was never a morning Harry missed greeting her, starting both of their days off with a sweet message. She hoped he was alright. 

Pulling up his text thread, she typed out a quick message.

       good morning honey ! are you doing okay? i didn't get a voicemail from u so I wanted to make sure !! miss and love u so much call me when you can:))))) 

When the receipts didn't quickly change to read, she took in a sigh. While it wasn't like him, there was a possibility that he woke up too late in the morning to give her a call like usual and didn't have time. There was always the chance that he had taken a late night hours before, working hard and allowing him to lie in this morning. 

(Y/N) was willing to convince herself of either scenario, pushing her imagination along with the terrible ideas sprouting. She just hoped he was okay.

—————

Sitting in the quad, breathing in the first airs of autumn with her headphones covering her ears, (Y/N) didn't rush away from her textbook when she felt her phone vibrate. Finishing off her notes, she waited a moment longer, rereading what she had transcribed before plucking up her phone. The name on her notification had her heart skipping a beat

H🤍

     Sorry, sweetheart. I woke up late this morning, and have been rushing around the offie all day. I didn't mean to ignore you, I'm so so sorry. Maybe I can call you tonight, on my way home? Love you so much.

Her lashes fluttered as she blinked, reading over his message. Honestly, a chunk of worry she hadn't realized she had been holding onto evaporated. The reassurance that he was okay, and none of the haywire scenarios that she had forced to the back of her mind had even been a little true, was freeing. He was just having a Thursday, just like she was. 

      don't be sorry im just happy youre okay!!! im sorry youre having a rough day:( is there anything i can do to help?????

      yes yes please call me later:( I miss you:(

      love you moooooooore :)  

The time between the moment she had sent off her last message to the receipts flipping from delivered to read was almost instantaneous. The three grey dots popped up on the side of her screen just after. 

H🤍

        You don't need to do anything for me, sweetheart, you're already helping. My afternoon is going to be busy, but I should be out of here around the normal time so I'll call you around then. I miss you too.

       It didn't feel right not to call you this morning, but I didn't have time. I think it threw me off. 

       Love you most:)

Laying back on the grass, music still fluttering through her speakers, (Y/N) smiled up at her phone as she held it over her face. It was always especially cute when he would add little emoticons or emojis to his messages. 

     i missed hearing u this morning too but its okay !!!! don't stress urself out too much this afternoon though just call me when you can  🩷🩷🩷🩷

     i have to get to class now but ill talk to you later :)))) 

Harry's response came in the form of a string of hearts being sent her way, the messages making her smile before she pocketed her phone. Now that the anxious urgency she had before was now melted away, she took her time gathering her things and heading towards her next class. 

Everything was turning up, she decided. Thursday was almost over, Harry was okay, and she now could look forward to a phone call from him this evening. 

All she had to do was get through this final class.

—————

"Hi, honey," (Y/N) smiled, pressing her phone to her ear as soon as she saw the call blinking across the screen.

On the other line, there was a slight rustle. "Hi, love," Harry finally murmured, his breath coming out heavy, "What are you doing?" 

"Nothing," she sang, closing her laptop lid in favor of focusing on Harry, "Just waiting for you. Did you just get home?" 

"Yeah," he sighed once more, "Been a long day. Sorry to keep you waiting." 

(Y/N) shook her head even though she was well aware of the fact he couldn't see her. "Don't be sorry, H, stop. I'm sorry you had a bad day, what happened?" 

Before he could answer, a rattling cough was heard over the receiver. Harry seemingly pulled the phone away from himself, the sound growing more distant before he returned a beat later. "Sorry, I jus—" 

"Are you getting sick?" She didn't quite believe his explanation of allergies anymore. 

"No, love," Harry muttered, his voice suddenly sounding thicker than (Y/N) remembered, a sniffle of his nose sounding a moment later. "I've jus' had a long day is all. 'M a little run down." 

That didn't ease her any. (Y/N)'s lips thinned, a pinch appearing in between her brows. "It's okay if you're getting sick, H. I'm worried you're not taking care of yourself." 

"'S not like that, sweetheart, I promise. After I get through tomorrow, everything will calm down and I'll be fine. Don't worry over me, okay?" 

Every word that fell from his lips sounded less and less convincing. He definitely sounded sick with the way he gummed around his words through a thick throat, his breathing coming a bit heavier as if he couldn't breathe through his nose, and his reassurances sounded exactly like someone who was getting sick but didn't want to admit it would say. 

Harry took her silence for exactly what it was: her disbelief. "(Y/N), love, I really am jus' tired. Thank you for worrying about me, but y'don't have to. 'M alright." 

She swallowed. She supposed he really could be experiencing those cold symptoms for no other reason than the fact that he's tired, and has been going through a couple of long nights. With the weekend coming up, she too could argue that she wasn't feeling well enough to finish out her week, for no other reason than she would prefer to sleep in and do nothing instead of attending class. 

"Okay," she relented, "Sorry to interrogate you, I've just never heard you sound like this before." 

"I know, 's okay. But I promise I'm alright. I still need to take you to the aquarium this weekend, remember?" 

(Y/N) immediately brightened up at the reminder of their weekend plans. "Yeah, so you better not be sick then. I have to see the sharks." 

"Trust me, I know. You've said that almost every day since we booked the tickets." His voice took on a faux-exasperated tone, as if he couldn't wait to be done with their plans for no other reason than she would stop bringing them up.

A peal of laughter left her lips as she curled up on her couch, getting more comfortable now that she was talking with him. "You're so mean," she bubbled, "This is what I get for worrying about you? Maybe you should be sick and I'll just go alone." 

"As if you'd drive yourself there." 

Yeah, he was definitely feeling fine.

—————

While she was disappointed, (Y/N) wasn't surprised to see the lack of voicemail left for her when she rolled over on Friday morning. On the phone the night before, Harry had told her that he had another early morning coming, and it wasn't a secret just how rundown he was feeling. She had hoped, in the back of her mind, that he could be feeling well enough to send her a message in the morning anyway, but she couldn't blame him for opting to sleep a little bit longer before heading out the door. 

Nonetheless, she still sent him his own good morning text, hoping it would brighten his day and remind him that it was finally Friday. He'd made it through the week and could now look forward to their plans. 

      morning honey!! i hope you have a better day but its friday!!!! we get to see each other tomorrow!!!!! text me when you can love uuuuuuu

Setting her phone on her nightstand, she proceeded to start her own day. Maybe, on the way to campus, she'd stop and get herself a matcha latte. It really had been a long week.

—————

     just went to study in the quad and it started raining AS SOON as I sat down:( I had to run and take all my stuff back to my car:( and I think I forgot my favorite pen on accident :( 

Pressing send, (Y/N) added her new lunchtime message to the string of blue messages she'd already sent that had gone unanswered. Even the read receipts hadn't flipped to anything other than delivered since her morning text hours ago. Of course there had been times where he hadn't gotten back to her by the time she had sent another text, as well as the other way around, this was just slightly out of the range of normal. 

Being with him for almost a year allowed her to learn some of his schedule. She knew what his day to day must look like, just from the fact that he usually texted her, called her, or made plans around certain times of the day. It wasn't hard to pick up on the fact that around eleven-thirty he took a small break from his morning paperwork because that was when he would send her a message if he could. His lunch was always placed around twelve to one, something she learned because that was when he would ask if she wanted to come visit him, or he'd place a call to her while he ate. He left the office at the same time everyday, sometimes a little earlier and sometimes a little later. 

With the time blinking past one-thirty with no phone call, text, or even the reading of her messages, (Y/N) didn't want to be worried but she was. 

There were so many things that could have gone wrong, she figured. Her list of scenarios started with his phone breaking beyond repair, and ended with her sitting in a hospital waiting room. More than half of her worries were irrational, but that was unfortunately how her brain operated at times.

Without second guessing, (Y/N) pulled up Harry's contact before pressing the call button. As it rang and rang, she knew what the outcome was going to bet but she still hung on to the final trilling noise until it finally ended. The generic voicemail greeting played in her ear before she tapped the red end button. 

Rationalizing herself, (Y/N) had to remember the way he had talked about how busy today was going to be for him. This week was all about prepping for a large conference meeting that would be taking place on Monday, including hours of paperwork, presentation reviews, and running in and out of meetings with other executives. While she thought she knew his day-to-day schedule rather well, that didn't mean that day like this wouldn't force him to deter. It was more than just a possibility that he really was that busy that he wouldn't be able to get back to her before he left the office. 

He would call her when he could. 

—————

      goodnight! i hope youre okay honey just text me when you can

      I love u 

(Y/N) wasn't even sure how long she looked at her phone screen, waiting for the receipts to change when she sent her final message for the day. The thread consisted of blue messages she had sent through the day, no response in between. Her call log had three unanswered calls on the list, all outgoing to Harry. 

It wasn't until six p.m. rolled around without a single response from him that she was unable to fight back the worst case scenarios she had rolling around her head. This just wasn't like him. He never stayed that late at the office. There was no way that through over twelve hours, that he didn't have a single second to even react to one of her texts, even just a short one telling her that he was okay but would be staying late. 

Dropping the phone to fall in her sheets, her hands limp at her side, (Y/N) stared up at the ceiling. Something was wrong. Even if all it came down to was that he was so overworked that he fell asleep as soon as he made it home, that thought didn't exactly soothe her. It was scary thinking that something could have been so intense—work, meetings, preparations for the following week—that he didn't even have the mind to text her during his lunch. She just hoped he was alright. 

She'd give it until the morning, she decided. Sunday was their aquarium date, and if she didn't hear from him by lunchtime tomorrow, then she was going to go to his apartment and see what was going on. 

(In a very small part of her mind, a place she had shoved to the very back after everything with Andrew and Iris had been flushed away, she had the insecure thought that he could possibly, maybe, perhaps be ghosting her. While she could never imagine Harry, the king of communication, to go the route of ignoring her as a breakup option, that logic didn't necessarily win out against irrational insecurity). 

Hopefully, giving him the night to rest and recuperate would be exactly what he needed, allowing him to get back on his feet tomorrow and reach out to her with everything she missed the day before. 

Now, she just needed to figure out how she was going to get to sleep. 

—————

There was no way she was going to get to sleep tonight. 

Her brain was too preoccupied to settle, that much was apparent. She pretended as if she wasn't waiting for a notification to vibrate her phone with the way she picked up the book she was borrowing from Harry, barely reading any of the pages. She scrolled through her socials, distracting herself with videos and posts or whatever was fed to her to keep her from pulling down the top bar and checking for any messages she could have blinked through. More than once during her attempts at staying away from her phone, rolling away from her night stand and nestling into the sheets, she reached for it anyway. 

This cyclical routine led her to stare up at the ceiling at one in the morning, phone at her side lest she get a message and not hear the buzz for whatever reason. 

The later the hours got, the more her brain went wild. What if something happened and no one knew to contact her? What if he was really trying to break up with her through ghosting? What if no one even knew he was hurt in the first place and Harry was alone, scared? What if, what if, what if.

Throwing her comforter off her body, (Y/N) sat up in haste. She fit her phone into the pocket of her sweatpants before she was trekking through her apartment, heading to her kitchen. Flicking on the light, she stalked towards her cabinets as if she wasn't itching to grab her phone. Pulling out a glass, she filled it with water and took a long sip. Hoping the cold temperature would soothe her brain and settle the unease in her stomach, she stayed in her kitchen, leaning up against her oven, as she drained the glass. 

When there was nothing left in the glass aside from a few drops and her anxiety was still flitting through her veins, (Y/N) felt restless. 

What else was there to do? There was no way to fix this problem, but she couldn't see herself getting over it enough to actually get any rest. Her body had convinced herself something was wrong even if she tried to reason with herself otherwise. There was no way she was going to be able to beat out the quivering her stomach and rattling of her brain with logic. 

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she checked once more for a notification that wasn't there. Swiping through to the text thread itself, she saw it was still the same string of unanswered blue texts sitting in the black void. 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she shifted her weight where she stood. 

Would she be crazy to even consider going to his house right now? 

She, unfortunately, couldn't stray her mind very far from the awful possibility that something could have happened, that Harry could be needing someone, and that was why he hadn't been able to contact her. It was a completely irrational, worst-case-scenario mindset, but one that couldn't be tamped down for very long.

(Y/N) just wanted to make sure he was alright.

That was all she could think of when she pushed off of the counter, heading towards her bedroom with a purpose. She tugged on a heavy hoodie, the oversized shape blending with her sweatpants, before she slid on a pair of slippers. She pulled her hair out of her face into a messy twist, chunky clip on the back of her head. Grabbing her keys and bag, she didn't give herself enough time to second-guess anything before she was beelining towards the front door. 

By the time she made it to her car, key in the engine and dash lights illuminating the space, (Y/N) was convinced she'd lost it. 

Nonetheless, she backed out of her space and started towards Harry's home.

—————

Using the key Harry had given her months back, (Y/N) let herself into his house. The lights were off throughout the space. His shoes were in a neat line along the wall, his jacket carefully hung up, and his work bag set up by the door like usual. Everything was immaculately perfect, as if he took his time and didn't rush a single step. (Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth. 

She set her bag down by his, kicked her slippers off the same, before peering around the living room. His kitchen was clean as far as she could tell, no crumbs or even takeout containers on the counters. 

Her stomach sunk as she scaled his stairs. She was officially acting insane, wasn't she? Harry was obviously fine, and she just couldn't let him have a day to himself, could she? This is what happens when she obsesses over things, she ends up looking like a fool, and it—

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks as she stepped into Harry's room, the door having been cracked before. 

In his bed, Harry was curled up in a bundle of wrinkled sheets. Large comforters were draped over his form with more sitting on the end of the bed. A sliver of his face could be seen, his brows furrowed in distress with his forehead shimmering with sweat. The lump of bedding shook as he shivered underneath the mountain of down. Did he know his teeth were chattering? Did he know he was making these slight whimper tones? 

With her concern skyrocketing, (Y/N) crossed the space to his bed in quick strides. Up close, she could see the flush on his cheeks, the dry skin of his lips, the way he had his arms bundled over his chest as if he was still freezing under all the blankets and the hoodie he had on. 

And he said he wasn't feeling sick. 

"Harry?" she murmured, crawling onto his bed as she reached to place a hand on his forehead. She cringed at the feel of the damp skin, too hot to be healthy. He didn't even stir at her disturbance. "Harry?" 

In a fluttering blink, Harry suddenly woke up, a hurried gasp filling his lungs. It took a moment for him to catch his bearings, his eyes darting around the space before they settled on her. His gaze was bleary, unfocussed as he attempted to take her in.

"(Y/N)?" he croaked, voice crackling and dry. 

No wonder he couldn't call her, he barely had a voice. (Y/N)'s heart cracked just a bit as she looked at him, settling on his bed with her legs folding up underneath her. 

"Hi," she smiled at him, hoping to soothe him just a little, "I thought you said you weren't getting sick remember?" 

"Yeah," he answered in a breath, his eyelids going heavy once more as he sunk into the bedding, "I don't want to be sick." 

"I know," she murmured, "But it's going to be okay, we'll get you better again." 

A slight curl landed on his lips as she spoke. "Are you staying?" 

"Of course, I am," she promised, running a hand through his hair, pushing the strands off of his forehead. Harry happily pressed into her hand, seeking out her warmth as another shiver wracked through his system. As sweet as she thought it was, she was less than impressed with just how intense his fever was. "When was the last time you took medicine?" 

"I don't know," he mumbled, voice thick as his eyes shuttered closed, "I don't know if I have any." 

"Harry, you're joking." He had to be, really. There was no way that her responsible Harry didn't have any kind of cold medicine at his disposal. 

A smile once more tugged at the corners of his lips. "Maybe," he shrugged, "I can't remember." 

(Y/N) sighed, knowing she was going to have to ransack his house and try to find any kind of medicine she could get him to take when he was a little more lucid. Until then, she was going to start small. 

"Have you been drinking water?" 

"Don't know." 

Harry shivered as she looked towards his bedside table, finding not even a half finished glass of water waiting. She had reason to assume that he hadn't been lucid enough to even remember to hydrate during this whole thing. 

"(Y/N)?" Harry crooned, voice too thick to be comfortable. 

"Hm?" she hummed, carding her fingers through his hair once more. 

Keening into her touch, he spoke with his eyes closed. "I'm tired." 

"I know," she murmured, brows pinching when another shiver wracks his body, "You can sleep, honey. I'll find some medicine for you, and everything when you wake up, okay?" 

"Okay," he sighed, completely compliant to whatever she had to say. Shifting under her palm, he turned his head until her palm was grazing the planes of his face. He puckered his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her palm. "I missed you." 

"I missed you, too, honey." 

She watched as a sleepy smile bloomed on his features before he sunk into his pillow, heavy blankets set on his form. He was out, just like that. 

Watching over him, (Y/N) felt a guilty sense of relief as she saw a shiver roll down his spine. She didn't like seeing him so down, obviously out of it with fever chills going through his body, but this was a decidedly nicer outcome than the panic scenarios she had swirling through her head. 

Giving him one more pass of her fingers through his hair, she backed off his bed. She doubted he would be sleeping very soundly, so she didn't have much time to go through and find all of the things he would need to get him through the night. 

His bedroom door was left cracked open as she padded through his home. There was no way he didn't have any medicine laying around, she was sure of it. She just needed to find it. 

"Shoot," (Y/N) murmured under her breath, fumbling through the cabinet in his first floor bathroom.

She was going to have to call the aquarium in the morning and reschedule their reserve tickets. 

—————

"Harry? You've got to wake up for me, honey."

Harry wanted to open his eyes, he really did, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't. He was too tired, too cold, too enveloped in his vivid dreams. 

"Just for a second then you can go back to sleep, okay?" 

Taking in a heavy breath through his sore throat, Harry attempted once more to crack his eyes open. This time around he was successful to a small degree, his eyes opening into slits. Everything was a bit blurry, too hazy to make out exact details of what was around him. He was so cold—freezing even. The blankets weren't enough. 

Above him, he saw who he was ninety-eight percent sure was (Y/N). There were vague memories of seeing her earlier in the night. He remembered the shape of her smile, the sound of her voice, her gentle touch through his hair. He thought he had been dreaming, 

"You're here?" he croaked, deep crackles in his voice. 

"I am, yeah," she crooned to him, shuffling closer to him, "And I have medicine for you to take." 

"You do?" A sudden chill swept over his form. He burrowed deeper under his covers. 

"Yeah, but you need to sit up for me so you can take it and drink some water." 

His brow creased her words. "No," he whined, unwilling to abandon his cocoon for something so trivial like water. 

"Yes," (Y/N) argued, "You're sick, H. You need to take some medicine so you can feel better." 

He shook his head. "I'll get better later." 

A soft peal of laughter filled his bedroom. "I think we should get better now, honey. I know you don't like being sick, so this will help it go away faster." 

Her logic checked out, really, though it didn't really make him happy to admit. "Fine," he answered begrudgingly. 

(Y/N) helped him sit up, his layers of blankets falling to his lap. His palms were sweaty as he clutched the hem of the comforters, his eyes going just a bit less bleary the more he blinked away his sleep. 

At his side, (Y/N) was huddled amongst the folds of his bedding. She looked at him with a softened smile, eyes glancing over his features and whatever state he must be in. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked, reaching behind herself to grab both the medicine and the water she had waiting for him.

Harry shrugged, his head feeling too heavy. "Tired," he grumbled, "I have a fever, don't I?" 

Her smile downturned some, frowning at the edges. "Yeah. I don't know how high, but I think it's a pretty good one," she told him, "So we need to make sure you keep drinking and start taking medicine again." 

 "That sounds like a lot of work." 

A huff of laughter fell from (Y/N)'s lips again. "I'm sure it will be, but I don't think it'll be much work for you." Before he could compute some kind of retort, (Y/N) was handing him a duo of pills and a glass of water. "Only sip the water, okay? Too much could make you sick." 

Her voice was like static in the background as he moved with lethargic limbs, tossing the pills to lay on his tongue before taking down a large gulp of water. He could vaguely hear her scolding him for taking down too much right after she warned him to slow down. 

"Sorry, sorry," he told her, throat not feeling quite as rough now that he drank something. "'M thirsty." 

"I'm sure you are, but you need to be careful," she told him, her voice a soft soothe as she took the glass from his hand and back to the side table, "Just take it slow. Are you hungry?" 

Trying to remember the last meal he had, Harry struggled to cast his mind that far back. While he didn't necessarily identify any hunger pains in his body at the moment, too much else going on, he figured they were buried somewhere amongst the crowded chaos. 

"Yeah," he answered, voice thick through his burning throat, "A little." 

"Let me go make you some soup, okay? After you eat, you can go back to sleep if you want." 

(Y/N) made a move to shuffle off of his bed, but she didn't get very far when he reached out with heavy limbs to pull her back. "'M not that hungry," he murmured, "Stay." 

"Harry," she started, her tone turning into a coaxing plea, "I'll be fast, and you need to eat, okay?" 

Disregarding her attempt at reasoning, he proceeded to tug her back to his chest. Though he didn't feel particularly strong at the moment, (Y/N) helped by moving pliantly wherever he wanted, even helping him when he shifted them to lay beneath the covers together. 

"'M too tired," he said, nosing at the curve of her neck, "I'll eat later." 

"Harry," she sighed once again, "I was going to make that soup you like, though." 

He only shook his head, pressing the tip of his cold nose into the column of her throat. He buried himself close against her, feeding into her warmth and the comfort the soft curves of her body provided. 

"Later," he insisted, her voice slurring and weakening. He puckered his dry lips and gave a small kiss to the shelf of her collarbone. "Stay."

It was when he felt her hands return to his hair, carding through the swirling curls and scratching her nails against his scalp, that he knew he won. 

"Alright," she relented, planting her own kiss on the crown of his head, "I'll wait until you wake up, honey." 

All it took was shuttering his eyes, lashes glancing over her skin with a slow breath in, that he fell asleep again.

—————

Harry's muscles ached by the time he finished the small serving of soup (Y/N) had made for him, only small remnants of carrots and celery remaining at the bottom. While he was much more lucid, his fever finally having gone down almost a full twelve hours since (Y/N) started feeding him medicine, his body was now exhausted from the fight against his cold. 

"This was really good, sweetheart. Thank you," he smiled at her when she came to claim his dishes and return them to the kitchen. In his now empty palms, she replaced the dishes with another duo of pills for him to take. 

"Those should get you through the night," (Y/N) explained, "But just wake me up if you need to. I'm hoping the soup will help your throat so you won't wake up coughing again." 

That had been the story of his day, at this point. In between the fever, the cold sweat, and the muscle aches, he had barely been able to sleep before he was forced awake by the burn in his throat that demanded he cough until he swore his esophagus was raw. 

"Okay," he responded, voice feeling gummy in his throat, "Are we going to bed now?" 

Dishes still in hand, (Y/N) pursed her lips as she looked at him. "Actually," she started, shifting her weight, "I was thinking—if you're feeling okay enough—that we could take a shower? I think it would help you feel better to get all the fever off of you and into some clean clothes."

To be fair, he fell asleep in these sweats Thursday night, and it was now Saturday night with the same hoodie pulled over his torso and heavy sweats that kept him warm through his perceived chill. But the idea of standing up for that long, in a space that hot and warm, already made him tired enough he figured he could fall asleep in an instant. 

She must have been able to tell what he was thinking by the soured expression on his face. "We'll be really fast, I promise," she assured him, "I was going to wash your hair and everything, so you wouldn't even have to do anything but stand there." 

While he was sure she was bribing him with the promise of washing his hair for him, taking the task off of his hands while simultaneously giving him the gift of feeling her nails scratch at his scalp and card through his hair under the warm spray of water, he knew he wasn't going to win when that offer was on the table. She knew exactly how to get him.

"We'll be fast?" 

"Promise." 

With a sigh, Harry caved in. "Okay, but if I fall asleep, y'jus' have to let me." 

"I'll make sure you don't fall then," she pledged with a proud smile on her face, "I'll be right back and then we'll go upstairs."

—————

"Too cold," Harry grumbled, his bare skin erupting into goosebumps under the spray of water.

Reaching around his back to adjust the temperature knob, (Y/N) turned it up just a bit more. By her preference, the water was plenty hot, especially apparent with the amount of steam filtering through the room already, but she figured he was still fighting off a few chills. 

"Is that better?" she asked, quickly pulling her hand out of the stream. 

"Almost," he murmured, eyes fluttering closed. 

His skin was quickly turning red under the temperature, but he seemed to revel in it. He threw his head back under the water, wetting his curls. His arms were barred over his chest, but she could still see the way he pulled in a deep breath, the sauna-like atmosphere cleaning his sinuses. She allowed him to luxuriate in the feel, hoping his muscles were relaxing as much as she knew he needed.

"Which shampoo do you want tonight?" she asked, looking towards the built in caddy he had in his shower, the cubby full of both his and her products. 

"Yours," he answered automatically, his voice sounding much less clogged after reveling in the water. 

With a soft smile, she retrieved the bottle, aware of the way Harry turned to offer her the back of his head to run the cleanser through. 

"Fast, right?" he murmured just above the sound of the pounding water. 

"Fast," she promised, sudsing up her hands before she was going through the soft curls with her shampoo. 

Though normally Harry would have leant down for her to get better leverage and not have to reach too far above to wash his hair, she couldn't blame him as he kept the full of his height. His back hurt enough some days without having a cold running through his system, it didn't help when his muscles were pinched with fever chills. Nonetheless, she stood to the tips of her toes and did as best she could to get him back to feeling more like himself. 

It didn't take long for the cherry-scented bubbles to start scenting the steam, wrapping around them in sweet ribbons. She smiled at the way he practically melted at the feel, rolling his neck and allowing her more and more coverage of the shampoo. It was a silly thought, but for a minute she felt as if she were playing as his hairdresser. Was she supposed to do small talk with him?

The thought had a huff of laughter puffing through her nose. 

"What's funny?" Harry asked, his voice sluggishly warm. 

"Nothing, just something silly," she told him, pulling her fingers from the silky suds of his hair, "Rinse your hair and we'll wash one more time before conditioning, okay?" 

"Okay," he answered absently, turning to place his hair under the rinsing spray, the bubbles running down his skin.

(Y/N) couldn't help herself, following the string of bubbles that ran down his chest, flushed skin slick from the steaming water. If this shower were under different circumstances, she would have taken it upon herself to trace that line of bubbles with her own hands, but that would have to wait, she decided. The lines of his muscles were attention grabbing, but there was something in it that made her feel sad for him. It wasn't fun to see him, knowing just how strong he was, to be reduced down to shivers and half-lucid conversations all from a small cold. 

With his hair rinsed free of all the bubbles, he looked to her, curls draping down around his face. "Again?" 

"Again," she affirmed, "Then we'll finish up and go to bed." 

A soft smile touched the corner of his lips. "Okay." 

Repeating the motion of washing through his hair once more, reviving the pattern after days of enduring his cold sweats. When she gave him the go ahead to rinse down once more, she could see just how slow he was moving again; lethargic limbs heavy. 

"Which body wash are you thinking?" Though she had an inkling that he would choose to utilize her products again, she still thought to ask. 

Instead of getting an answer, she was surprised with heavy, tattooed arms wrapping around her middle from behind. In her ear, he whispered, "Not yet?" 

"Not yet?" she asked, turning in his arms to look up at him, "I thought you wanted to go fast?"

Gazing down at her with hooded eyes, he looked at her with flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. "I don't want to leave right now." 

"No?" she asked with a beaming smile, a small huff of laughter falling from her lips. She looped her arms around his middle, setting her palms on the slick skin of his back. The water sprayed down on her hands, the temperature no longer bothering her. 

"No," he said, murmuring over the thrum of the water. A silence settled between the two of them as he gave her a slow blink, his gaze drifting down to the curve of her lips. "Kiss?"

(Y/N) looked up at him with a pout, her hand on his back running a soothing circuit over the planes. "I don't want to get sick, H." 

"You won't get sick," he tried to tell her, bringing his hand up to cradle her cheek, "I promise." 

"How can you promise that, hm?" she prodded, teasing him some with her pout turning into a tender smile. 

She seemed to have stumped him some, watching as he rolled her words around. "I don't know," he settled on, "But, I'll take care of you if you do." 

With that, he dipped his head down and brushed the tip of his nose against the side of her own. The lilypads of his tired eyes were close enough for her to pick out the varying shades of clear green, the wet clumps of his lashes a dark frame around them. It was hard to say no to him, especially like this. 

Tipping her chin up, she pressed her lips against his. It was a soft, innocent kiss that lingered for only a moment. It broke off when she could feel the curl of Harry's smile. 

"Is that enough?" she asked, nuzzling his nose in a puppy's kiss. 

"Almost," he murmured, "But I'll wait until bedtime." 

(Y/N) let out a soft laugh, pulling away to rest her cheek against his chest. His skin was blazingly warm, aided by the steaming water still scenting around them. He hugged her close, his arms a loose loop around her with his nose grazing the top of her head. His heartbeat drummed a soothing rhythm under her ear, a comforting reminder that he was right here, right with her. After the hours she went worrying and building anxiety over his state when she hadn't heard from him the day before, feeling the solid build of his body and the steady heartbeat under her ear, this was more relieving than she was sure he even knew.

"(Y/N)?" he asked after a moment. 

"Hm?" she hummed, snuggling that much closer. 

"Are we still going to the aquarium tomorrow?" 

Blinking her eyes open in an instant. She forgot to call. 

—————

thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if theres any ideas anyone wants to see pls send them in:)))

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Misunderstanding

Prompt: A misunderstanding after being ignored for weeks.

~ Part 2 Part 3

Crocodile X Fem Reader

It had been weeks. Weeks, since Crocodile has even visited you. You knew he was a busy man but in the past he used to at least call you on the den-den Mushi he gave you, maybe even had someone deliver something that had reminded him of you. But there you were, waiting once again in a private room at the casino he ran.

         “What’s wrong Y/N?” Miss. All-Sunday asks, walking in and setting down a trey of glasses and alcohol. When you had first started dating Crocodile he had sent her to keep an eye on you. You knew she was keeping tabs on you, at the very least to make sure you weren’t sharing any secrets to anyone, but now it seemed like a slap in the face to know he was still keeping watch without even trying to contact you.

         “Same old, same old. Any word as to when Sir Crocodile will be back?” You pour yourself a glass of whiskey before slumping into the back of the chair. Miss. All-Sunday gives you a strange look before shaking her head, she never was one to share secrets. “Does he even like me? It seems like he keeps me around because it’s less of a hassle.” You complain while taking a sip. You’d never been one to drink too much but you felt like now would be the perfect time to get drunk and ignore the tight twisting anxious feeling in your stomach.

         Without too many other words you’re left alone in the room again to brood in your thoughts. You glance out the window overlooking the casino, staring at the patrons wasting their money. What else was there to do in the desert for fun but to come to a casino and spend your life savings? Even you indulged in the table every now and then. But now that you were looking down you couldn’t help but see the familiar looks of customers disappointed in losing or some women clinging onto a big winner. At least they’re getting attention. You blink your eyes for a second and shake your head.

It’s no use pining for something that won’t happen and that’s when you see it. The familiar tall man and gold hook walking his way through his own casino, guards keeping a distance while following him and others cowering out of the way. But that wasn’t what struck you, it was the girl holding onto his arm that made your breath stuck in your throat. Her skirt too short and her top barely a bra, Crocodile hates girls who flaunt for no reason. It’s not the girls fault, you knew that. You’re hatred and heartbreak coming in a fell swoop had to be pushed somewhere and you still refused to believe that the man you thought you loved would be doing this. He’s always wanted me to dress more modestly, hated when others looked at me, there’s no way he’d want someone like her.

You slam down your glass of whiskey, wincing as the liquid burns your throat before pouring a rather tall glass, turning to watch more. You felt a small sigh leave you as you watch your lover pry his arm away from the girl, but your short-lived happiness was replaced with a void when you watch him wrap his arm around her, placing his hand on her waist. No doubt in your mind that he’d squeeze his hand in showing they she was his, just as he had done to you oh so many times before. You felt tears brim your eyes as you drown yourself in the conveniently placed bottle.

The void in your heart became bottomless when you watched him lean down, no doubt to kiss her cheek. You turn away, not willing to watch anymore and decide to go back to the penthouse where you had been living. As you wait for the elevator to take you up your mind goes blank, what if he doesn’t want you there anymore? You can feel yourself start to shake at the thought and reason that if that were true the all-access card would have been deactivated. Miss. All-Sunday would have escorted you out. Something would be different. The door opens and you swipe the card that unlocks the main door to the pent house.

You rush to the bathroom, nearly slamming the door behind you staring into the mirror in front of you. Your hands grip the counter as you stare at the mess in front of you. Tears streaming down your face as you scrutinize everything. Weren’t you pretty enough? Weren’t you loyal? There was once when someone hit on you, the mans missing poster was plastered everywhere for months. But now? Now it seemed it didn’t matter.

Maybe you hadn’t seen it right. Maybe you were overreacting. You splash your face with cold water, trying to chase away any thoughts. Taking a deep breath before heading to your bedroom, you had to get out of this dress, needed something more comforting. Grabbing some sweatpants and a loose-fitting top. You pace back and forth trying to rake you brain into being calm. Is this why he hasn’t been in contact?

Before you could think too much there was a knock at the door. You heart sped up, not many people came up here, even fewer knocked. If you were here it was for a reason. You approached the door, “Miss Y/N. It seems you’ll be needed somewhere else right now.” Opening the door to 2 security guards standing there. They seemed a bit taken back that you weren’t in your normal clothes but you couldn’t stop shaking.

“Please miss, follow us,” One whispers while firmly grabbing your arm. They were kicking you out. Crocodile didn’t want you anymore. And he couldn’t have even given the curtesy of telling you to your face. You didn’t resist, being escorted out, you didn’t even bother to ask where you were going, the emptiness inside of you just kept welling up but you couldn’t let out any noise in front of them, you didn’t want their pity for being a forgotten fling.

To your surprise they led you back to the private room that overlooks the casino. You whip your head back at them, this had to have been some sort of sick joke. They weren’t even going to let you leave the casino. It had dawned on you in the past the Crocodile would never truly let you leave if you wanted to break up, you had acquired enough knowledge to harm him if left alone.

The door shut as you accepted your fate. The bottle of liquor still remained from when you had left previously and you decided to take a bottle. Might as well enjoy the last moments of my life. You sit back glancing at the window again scanning the crowd for amusement in these final moments.

Taking large swigs from the bottles as look, you can still see Crocodile with her, the women who has stolen your place. You feel the tears fall as you continue to watch, and continue to drown in your despair. He looks bored, the men surrounding him look like some business partners you’ve never seen before.

Stuck in this dreaded prison until someone comes to take care of you, you can’t tear your eyes away from the man below you, though far away you can still make out his features. The scar stretching across his face like some wicked reminder that he’s not an innocent person.

He was a cold lover, often forgot to talk to you. But he never forgot you, he had gifted you treasures beyond your imagination, given you dinners you’d only dream of, and even while busy he’d still entertain you, or at least allow you in his office while he took care of business. The passions of night being no exception to desires, he treated you like a god, though he always demanded respect and to be obeyed. He enjoyed watching you cry out in pleasures, pushing you to your max. But he never crossed the line, always making sure you were alright afterwards.

You watch him let out a laugh, the room you’re in deafening silent as you remember what his ‘business’ laugh sounded like. Finally, you let out a sob. A scream so loud you didn’t think you had it in you.  Thank heavens the room was sound-proof, otherwise others would think someone was being murdered in here. Oh. Oh yeah. You drop to your knees, hair falling in front of your face. Where had you gone wrong? What did you do to displease him to the point of disposing you?

You wretch your eyes up once more, a broken shell of yourself as you stared at the people below. Your heart stopped, despite being so far away it felt as though his stare was cutting through you. There was no way for him to truly be looking at you, his face cold but he must have just been staring in the direction of one of his many private rooms. You glance again and his gaze was still there, no emotion laid on his face.

It was only a matter of time, as his head turned back to those around him. You pound your first on the glass, biting your lip enough to taste blood. How many others has he done this too? Am I the first? Who was it before me? You sob out again as you heard a click of the door. Someone must’ve finally come to settle the score.

“My, Miss. Y/N. You don’t seem like yourself,” You heard Miss. All-Sunday chuckle out and you couldn’t muster up to look to her. Keeping your head low, “You’ll be dealt with soon enough. Don’t worry Y/N.” Her voice was soothing, as you heard her pour a glass. You let out a defeated laugh as she taps your shoulder with the glass, “Boss won’t be too happy to see you like this,” She muses sitting down in a chair.

“I’m sure he’ll be happier once I’m gone,” You mutter taking the glass from her, settling down as the time ticks down.

“It’s only a matter of minutes now,” She chuckles again. Why was she laughing? Had she come to comfort you in your last moments or taunt you for reaching too close to the sun? “You know, She’s stolen a lot from him…” Her mused voice hits your ears, “And those business partners of his are lookin for a hostage…”

Your eyes widen, glancing back at Miss. All-Sunday before staring back down into the crowd. “Although Sir Crocodile did warn me not to tell you anything” Her voice dripped with amusement, “But I don’t think he’d like how you are right now.” This was more information than you should have been given, yet your heart beat with hope.

[riizeblr]

also thinking about sungchan and wonbin sharing a fuck buddy. on some weeks, sungchan will have the girl to himself, and other weeks it's wonbin's turn. except, one day, wonbin find out that the girl has been letting sungchan hit it raw recently. so the next time they're intimate, wonbin looks at the girl dead in the eye as he slips the condom off, puts in on her belly, and goes back in to finish the job

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: noncon, wonbin x reader (mentions of sungchan x reader)

wonbin was becoming familiar with your voicemail, the read receipts beneath his texts, the look of disappointment when he showed up at your apartment unannounced. you didn’t treat sungchan this way. they were supposed to be equals. not that wonbin was a big fan of that either. he had you first. his arrangement with you had begun months before sungchan had even dared to initiate anything with you. wonbin should’ve always been your first priority.

wonbin had reluctantly agreed to the arrangement, deciding that a week of full access was worth missing out on few days without you. though that didn’t last. you were neglecting him, spending all your free time chasing after sungchan, desperate and pathetic.

sungchan wasn’t interested, but you didn’t seem to care. it made his blood simmer in his veins when you caught sight of sungchan, the indifference shifting to something else when sungchan couldn’t care less about you.

that didn’t stop sungchan from being smug, though. always bragging about your nights together, about all the things you let him do. it made wonbin roll his jaw in annoyance, resisting the urge to swing his curled fist into sungchan’s smug grin.

when the words had left sungchan’s mouth, wonbin’s body felt hot. his heart pounded against his chest, sounded in his ears. you had let sungchan fuck you raw.

it was something wonbin had dreamt of, but he had never dared to ask. it was a clear boundary you had made him aware of from the start. but it didn’t stop him from thinking of it when he fucked his fist ruthlessly every other week. your gummy walls drenching his bare cock, squeezing it so tight he could barely pull out of you. convulsing and pulsing around his sensitive cock when you came around him, coating him in your cum until he spilled inside you too.

the next time wonbin saw you, the slight disinterest in your eyes made his jaw tighten. it wasn’t fair.

your curiosity and eagerness had disappeared when you began to touch his hot skin that yearned for you. when you pumped his swollen cock and kissed his plump lips.

you eventually melted into his touch when he grazed your skin just the way you like. his lips nibbled and sucked on the parts of your body that made you arch your back.

your cunt still choked his cock when he slipped it inside you, sucking him in deeply. you still liked it. wonbin knew you liked to feel him inside you. his cock was made for you. he knew his cum would make you weak, brainless. sungchan would never cross your mind again once you felt every vein, that ran up his shaft stretching your walls.

your eyes fluttered, your blown pupils looking at him. wonbin would never get tired of the sight. he let out a shaky breath as he pounded into you, his pace speeding and slowing in the way he knew left you boneless. your fingernails slid up his sides, making him shiver under your touch. he couldn’t shake the thought of having no barrier between you and him.

when your eyes locked with his again, he couldn’t help but reach his hands between your bodies, pulling his cock out with a pained grunt. you whimpered, lightly slapping his back, begging him to fill you with his cock once more. wonbin slipped the condom off, not sparing the latex a single glance as he trailed it over your sweaty skin.

the hot, stretched, and wet latex slapping against your stomach when he let it slip from his fingers. the surprise was evident on your features, in the way you reached to touch it as he slid his sensitive tip along your folds.

“what’re you doing? pull out, wonbin,” you said, once he began to push inside you. he refused to shut his eyes despite how much they fought to close. the feeling was otherworldly. he couldn’t focus on the panic laced in your voice when you felt him sink deeper until his balls were pressed against you. he stopped himself, finally shutting his eyes.

“what about sungchan?” he said through his teeth. “you didn’t make him pull out. it’s my turn.”

[autlantic]

. • COMPENSATION

you and bill fuck like rabbits. after listening too many times, tom decides it’s only fair if he gets to watch. 1K words.

bill kaulitz x reader , tom kaulitz x reader

cw : exhibitionism, tom and bill sharing, oral, choking, penetration

.•.•.

“Bill! Bill! Bill!”

Tom groaned, burying his face into a pillow. This was the third night this week that you and his brother had kept him up, and it was only Thursday- not to mention the week before, and the week before that. Another loud whine sounded through the wall, Tom feeling the blood rush to his cock at the sound. It was like torture; he couldn’t invite any girls over to relieve himself because the sound was so distracting, and his hand wasn’t cutting it after seeing you prance round in the mornings wearing nothing but a pair of underwear and one of Bill’s shirts.

A moment of silence came, Tom praying to god that it was over, but less than thirty seconds later the filthy sounds started up again. You two fucked like rabbits. Throwing his sheets to the floor, he stormed out of his room and towards the source of his trouble.

Meanwhile, you were completely oblivious. Fisting at the soft white bedsheets, Bill’s manicured hand gripped at your throat as he plowed into you from behind.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” He smirked, slightly breathless. You could only whine in response, barely able to hold yourself up, let alone speak or even think coherently.

Tom stood in the doorway.

“Really enjoying the show. Is it interactive?” He grinned.

You and Bill froze before scrabbling to get under the sheets.

“What the fuck, Tom.” Your boyfriend exclaimed, wrapping you up in his arms to cover a little bit more of your flushed skin.

“Do you know how incredibly loud you are?” Tom started, gazing unabashedly at any inch of your skin he could get his eyes on. “I haven’t had a full nights sleep in weeks. Surely I deserve some compensation?”

Your lips were parted slightly in surprise, completely taken off guard at the sudden change of events; it felt so wrong to have the other Kaulitz twin staring while slick was still smeared down your inner thighs, but somehow it was also turning you on.

Bill scoffed. “Surely you don’t think i’m gonna let you fuck my girlfriend.”

You snickered slightly, receiving two identical glares that made you quiet down.

“I never said I had to fuck her…” Tom smirked, glancing down at the obvious tent straining in his sweats. “But you could always help me out another way.” His brown eyes were set on your lips, pupils dilated as he took note of the way your tongue peeked out to wet them.

Bill’s hand was caressing your side softly, and he glanced at you, a questioning look in his warm brown eyes that you hadn’t been expecting.

“What, you’re actually considering this?” You exclaimed, glancing between the two boys with heat rising in your cheeks. Bill cocked his head sheepishly, “It’s up to you, baby.”

Shifting slightly, you were reminded of the sensitivity and anticipation between your legs. You couldn’t deny your attraction to Tom; something about his cocky attitude was a turn on and you knew from the interviews that he was well experienced. Taking a final look at Bill to make sure he was comfortable, you agreed with a simple “Okay.”

The moment the word left your lips, Tom darted forward, pressing his lips against yours with a ferocity that let you know how pent up he was. You could feel the cold metal of his lip piercing against the heat of your mouth, and he grabbed your hand leading it straight to his cock.

Bill pushed his brother away lightly, pulling you against his chest to kiss down your neck as your hands began to pull at Tom’s sweats. His cock sprang free, hitting the hard muscle of his stomach.

“Go on, doll.” Bill encouraged, manhandling you back onto your hands and knees. You felt exposed in front of your boyfriends brother, but something about his eyes on you made arousal warm your blood.

Tentatively, your tongue darts out to brush his tip, Tom’s head falling back already. With a bit more confidence, you take him into your mouth as far as you can, tongue laving over the salty length of his cock. The dreadlocked boy grunted, grabbing a fistful of your hair to help guide your speed.

You almost choked around his length as Bill positioned himself behind you, sliding himself back inside your sensitive pussy with a soft moan. Your legs trembled as you tried to keep up with Tom’s fast pace, already brought as close to cumming by the boy behind you as you were before being interrupted.

“Oh fuck.” Tom groaned, cock twitching in the back of your throat at the sight of you writhing under him on the bed. “I’m gonna cum.”

You forced yourself further down his cock, nose bumping against his lower stomach from the force of Bill’s thrusts.

Tom’s grip on your hair tightened, holding you there as his hips stuttered, before spilling his load down the back of your throat with a hoarse gasp.

He slowly withdrew, watching you intently as you looked up at him through your lashes and swallowed.

Sick of having to share with his brother, Bill shoved your face down into the mattress, hand resting on the back of your neck as he picked up speed. You moaned into the sheets, the feeling of him so deep inside of you bringing you full speed towards your orgasm.

The feeling of him spilling hotly inside of you sends you over the edge, orgasm washing over you in fierce waves of pleasure and a whine of his name.

A few moments passed before Bill slipped himself out of you, pulling you up to his chest as he placed an array of kisses across your face. You giggled, still out of breath from the ordeal you’d just been through.

“Okay, now fuck off, Tom.” Bill smiled cockily, making a point to kiss your cheek affectionately.

Tom rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave you lovebirds be.” He petted your hair in thanks before leaving the room, much more satisfied than he was an hour ago.

Bill turned to you, snuggling into your neck and gazing up at you with his pretty brown eyes. “I’m still better, right?” He teased, laughing as you smacked his arm playfully.

“Always, Billy.”

[in-som-niyah]

"Come on princess, don't be like that. Give Red what he deserves..."

You are Red Hood's relief. Nothing more. Nothing Less.

Your bedside alarm clock displayed an ungodly time in the morning.

It was a cold night in Gotham, your apartment filled with a chill accompanied by a familiar emptiness. It was just you, after all, and you didn't really have anyone over.

This changed, however, when a certain masked vigilante came to you for help when he was bleeding. Knowing you were a medical professional, he decided to swing by for a stitch or two. Who were you to deny him?

How could you refuse the six foot something, broad shouldered, panting, limping man barely making it across your living room?

You decided to indulge your curiosity, because let's be honest here: If he wanted you dead, he would have made it so a long time ago.

One night became two, then three, then a month and now a few times a week.

You were always welcoming him with a fresh roll of gauze and a chilled bottle of spirits for the pain, since he refused to take anything else.

But it was more than just medical attention. It was the way his chest heaved, back muscles flexed and forearms tightened when you hit a particularly tender spot. It made another certain tender spot on you wet.

Scandalously so.

You tried to hide it by wearing dark underwear and pants to bed, but it didn't help; he had you squirming and squeezing your thighs together in no time.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

He unknowingly infiltrated your senses, his scent of sweat and musky body wash making you dizzy, his vice grip on your bedsheets when you cleaned his wounds making your knees weak.

You wanted him.

You wanted him bad.

On this particular chilly Gotham night, you might just get what you want.

A loud pair of feet landed on the hardwoods near your windowsill. Heavy, irregular, yet determined footsteps proceed into your bedroom, where you've prepared your ensuite for a battered and bleeding Hood.

"Quickly, in here." you rasped having been torn from a restless sleep.

"I'm comin' sugar. Someone's eager to see me huh?" the familiar teasing tone of his voice modulator replied.

"You're only allowed to make jokes when you're not bleeding on my floor, Hood" you shot back, followed by a playful scoff and a silent eyeroll.

However, that eyeroll might not have been so silent.

As Red Hood approached the bathroom doorframe, he caught a glimpse of your feigned annoyance in the mirror.

He sat down with a thud on your toilet, exhaustion invading his bones.

You made quick, wordless work of his belt and jacket, revealing his toned exterior and the scars littering it. You never mentioned his scars, for fear of making him uncomfortable but more so because you couldn't bear the thought of someone hurting him so much that it left such a vicious mark.

"Sweet girls like you shouldn't roll their eyes, it's rude" he huffs between pained groans.

You briefly still your hand, look up at him and quirk your brow as if to challenge him. Then, you roll your eyes right in his face. You have no idea what prompted this pettiness, but your thoughts were hazy and disorganized as you looked back down to continue cleaning and stitching his wounds.

Red Hood chuckled darkly and sighed as he felt you get back to patching him up after your little stunt.

He lolls his head to the side, as if to emphasize his astonishment at your smart comeback. He didn't take you for a fiesty one.

"Really doll?" he prompts.

You say nothing and continue with your bandaging.

"Hey. Look at me." He tries again, this time with a gentler tone.

Still, you ignore him and repackage the unused gauze for another guaranteed visit from him in the future.

You go to get up, but his hand presses your shoulder down and you stop, entirely oblivious to his intentions.

Finally, your eyes meet his mask.

Red can tell you're both making eye contact, which lasts an unusually long time. You both bask in the absence of awkwardness as you indulge in this tender moment.

Slowly, you move closer to him and reach a hand up to caress his helmet. You know he can't feel it, but it feels intimate and personal nonetheless. It is only until your fingers roam lower, toward the base of his helmet and lift, that one of his hands flies up to stop your own.

"Nuh-uh babydoll, the mask stays on" he spits sharply.

The vigilante shifts in his seat, and it's only then do you realize the growing tent in his pants.

Your eyes flick back up to his helmet and it is only now, that you realize you weren't alone in your inappropriate arousal.

Hood maintains the eye contact and brings his hands to your hips, as if asking for permission before taking the plunge.

Carefully, you move your hands down his naked torso, noting how his sore muscles twitch at your light contact.

"Fuck baby-"

A hiss escapes his concealed mouth when your hands ghost over his bulge. You knew this was wrong. You knew he should be gone to wherever he should be by now. Were there people looking for him? For Christ's sake was he a criminal?

Too many questions for a mind too far gone. You weren't thinking anything beyond how sticky the bottom of your panties had become, how puffy your lips had become from constant chewing, and the cool air ghosting over your sensitive nipples.

There's no going back.

While looking at him for confirmation, you begin to unzip his fly, then massage his length from his boxers instead.

A drawn out, desperate moan is exaggerated by his modulator as hood grinds his hips into your hand involuntarily.

"Don't tease me darling, you know what I want" he orders.

Normally, you would have slapped anyone that told you what to do, but here, it only made your sopping cunt beg for relief.

Mesmerized by his boldness and not wanting to keep him waiting, you pull him out of his boxers and kiss the tip. You're met with another whine and roll of his hips.

You begin to stroke him a few times, working him up just to give him his relief.

Just as he was about to speak again, you swallowed him from tip to hilt, making his words die on his tongue.

His body tensed and relaxed with every moan and heave as you began to bob your head up and down, taking him in full each time.

His hand flew in your braided ponytail to guide your head down his shaft the way he liked it, your tongue licking at his balls every time you went down.

"Shit- Want you to touch yourself pretty thing. Show me how those dainty fingers make you feel good"

Warmth shot straight to your core at that, but you were embarrassed to pull down your shorts and panties, and show him just how bad you wanted this.

You hesitated for a moment and pulled off his length. Stroking him with one hand and licking stripes up his shaft with your tongue, you managed to smile sheepishly in a weak attempt to refuse.

Though the heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your potential embarrassment was stronger.

Red Hood cocks his head and tuts in disproval.

"Come on princess, don't be like that. Give Red what he deserves..."

You looked up at him with glassy and desperate eyes, as if to ask if he really wanted to.

The strong hand in your braids comes down to cup your cheek and rub at the side of your mouth.

"Don't keep me waiting pretty girl, I ain't asking a third time" he rasps sternly. You knew better than to disobey.

Slowly, your removed your hands, earning a groan from him. You stood up and hooked your thumbs in between your panties and supple skin and began to pull down.

Embarrassment still clear on your features, the vigilante outstretched his hands and placed them on your plush hips, rubbing circles in your skin.

This silent encouragement prompted you to continue, until you felt the cool air brush against your exposed, puffy clit.

"So pretty" Red mumbles under his breath as the hands on your hips apply gentle pressure to get you back on your knees.

This is his turn to stand up, doing so with his angry red and leaking cock in his hand.

He held it out in silent offering to you, which you took gratefully, and resumed your earlier routine.

Subconsciously, your hand made its way down to your core and your fingers found purpose in rubbing tight circles on your clit. You moaned on his length at the contact, eliciting a pleasurable hiss from him.

You could tell his eyes were trained on the target between your legs even from behind the mask.

"That's it sugar...make yourself feel good for me...good fucking girl"

Your eyes rolled again at that as you increased your pace and suction. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Though you would have no way of knowing, Red was a true gentleman despite his nighttime activities. As a gentleman, he wanted you to cum before him.

"Faster pretty girl, come on, you can do that for me fuck-"

You gave a small nod and increased the speed between your legs. You began to focus on the feeling of your fingertips sending sparks throughout your body, but you weren't close enough.

As if a psychic, he pulled himself from your mouth and sat back down. Confused, the hand between your legs stilled, and your face beginning to pout.

Before you could protest his hands again found your hips and pulled them toward him. Your hands moved to find the back of his neck as the hooded man pulled you onto him to straddle his lap.

When his hands retreated, you whined in frustration at the lack of contact.

"Shhh pretty baby you'll get it" he cooed.

You began to rock your hips against him impatiently, but his strong hands stopped your movement. Before you could complain, his right thumb began to press circles into your core with full intent of making you cum.

"Ah-ah Red please-" you cried out, unable to take the sudden pressure and pleasure at the same time. You gripped his wrist, a weak attempt to get him to slow down.

"You can take it, yes you can princess" he replies. The cheeky bastard knows just how to make your pussy throb.

"Fuck- I'm gonna-... pleasepleaseplease" you blabber desperately nearing your peak. The pressure in your tummy growing and tightening, just waiting to snap.

The Red Hood pressed his shielded forehead to yours and whispered in a deep, modulated voice.

"'M right here pretty girl, cum for me. I know you need to. Let go."

The coil snapped with ferocity and left you screaming his name. Surely the old woman next door wouldn't appreciate it, but you didn't care. Not while he was here, making you forget about the world.

You gushed on his fingers, and he took this opportunity to pump himself to completion with your juices smeared over his shaft. He came with a low grunt and short pants.

After you came down from your high, you slowly and carefully eased yourself off of him, minding his bruises and sore muscles which he appreciated.

It was still ungodly early, your eyes beginning to close with sleep as you washed your hands in the sink.

He will never admit to you that he's never been more in love with you.

Instead, he stuffs himself back into his pants and brings you back to your bed.

Once you're situated under your duvet, you reach for his hand and weakly grasp his fingers.

"Stay?" You slur, barely holding onto your awake state.

He chuckles fondly, and you can almost see a blush under his helmet.

"Maybe another time doll."

[f10werfae]

Child-Bearing Hip Dips

pairing: Professor!Ari Levinson x College!Student!Reader

summary: Ari overhears his babygirl’s conversation with her friends, he teaches her another lesson, why he loves her love handles. (DILF!Ari) (Dom!Ari)

likes, Comments and reblogs are appreciated/18+

Chris Masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“fuck, ya know these hips were made for me don’t ya?” Ari growled slamming his cock into her wet fuck hole, his shirt unbuttoned as she pawed at his meaty chest and stomach, his lips coming down to pull and tug at her puffy nipples. “Y-Yes sir, o-Oh shit” Y/n moaned feeling him spit onto her face, his hands kneading at her hips, even spanking it lewdly. Her college professor, loved watching her body jiggle and move.

- 30 minutes ago -

“So Y/n, your truth is, if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” Grace smiled picking a truth out of the hat, seeing that hardly anyone had attended the sociology lecture today due to weather problems, the girls made due and played some Truth or Dare; their seemingly distracted professor marking papers at his desk. His circular glasses perched on his nose, his eyes making subtle contact with Y/n, sending her a wink every few seconds.

She fidgeted and squirmed in her seat, having no underwear to put on this morning while at her boyfriend’s house, the greedy git had stolen it after he had fucked the daylights out of her. That same pair of lilac underwear, peeking out of his trouser pocket everytime he stood up to grab more papers to mark. He was practically teasing her at this point, even playing with the promise ring on his finger, reminding her of how those same thick fingers were tugging, pulling and feeling every bit of her the night before; in fact every night for the past 4 months since she took up this class.

“Oi Y/n, stop oglin’ Mr. Levinson n’ answer the question already” Lara whispered nudging her friend, repeating the question to her so they could move on with the game already, “Right oh uh, if I could change one thing about myself… maybe my hip dips? I don’t know anything I wear leggings they make my body look square and it puts me off. Plus! I don’t know, i’ve had people tell me before that it makes my proportions weird” Y/n explained scowling, gripping at the skin on her hips, her friends nodding as they could relate to the exact same thing.

“Ok next one-“ Before the next truth could be asked, the bell rang signifying the end of the day, all four college girls sighing out in relief at the thought of it finally being over. Lectures were to be put on hold after today, with the weather threatening to worsen, giving them all a weeks holiday to do whatever they pleased. Or whoever.

“Do all you ladies have a safe way home? Would you like me to call a few cabs?” Mr. Levinson offered seeing them all start to file out of the room, all of them stating that their significant other’s were picking them up, “What about you Miss L/n?” Ari asked tilting his head, seeing as now they were the only two left in his lecture hall, his fingers fiddling with the lilac fabric in his pocket.

“Hmm my man said he would pick me up, I don’t know if he’s here yet though” She pouted playfully walking around his desk, grabbing onto his sleeves as she pulled herself to smack a glossy wet smooch onto his lips, one that was gladly reciprocated. “is that so? What kinda man is that, leavin his woman stranded and cold” He cooed letting his hands fondle up her skirt, ripping a hole into her stockings, cheekily groping at her backside.

Both of them chuckling as he sat back down onto his chair, bringing her onto his lap, his hands going under the creme knit jumper of his that she chose to put on this morning; feeling her bare breasts as he also hid her bra from her. He hated seeing those wired marks on her back, he could care less if her tits sagged, they were only his to look at anyway. “Can we go to your place already? It’s cold and I still need to finish the damn paper my sociology teacher set me”

“Oh yeah good job tellin your sociology professor that” He grumbled bunching up his sweater just above her chest, exposing her globes to the cool air, the same ones he would spend any amount of time sucking and kissing on. “Anyway what’s this I heard about hip dips? Who told you that?” His fingers massaging deep into her hips, the same hips he loved seeing swaying round his kitchen as she listened to her music, the same hips that rode his cock to the moon and back, the same hips that belong to the most gorgeous girl he swears he’s ever seen. His Y/n’s hips.

“Well am not lyin! I’ve heard so many people tell me to lose ‘em, i’ve tried all the tips but these girls won’t budge. They just make me look bulky” She groaned running her hand back through his hair, his eyes darkening as her body was basically exposed to him. “Baby, these are my love handles, I love holdin’ onto them everytime your sweet pussy is wrapped around my cock, the way the muscles tense and relax with every movement. I don’t give a fuck about proportions either babygirl, at the end of the day it’s all mine to eat and grab at” He growled setting her onto his emptied desk, her fingers automatically undoing his belt and buttons, his trousers being tugged sown to his thick thighs.

“Open up baby, seems I need to remind my girl some of the things i’ve taught her” He gritted his teeth, feeling his cock being engulfed by her warm gummy walls, a familiar feeling for them both, comforting even. “F-fuck daddy, still so big” She whimpered, already feeling like she had been split into two, her older boyfriends cock was no joke.

-Present-

“fuck, ya know these hips were made for me don’t ya?” Ari growled slamming his cock into her wet fuck hole, his shirt unbuttoned as she pawed at his meaty chest and stomach, his lips coming down to pull and tug at her puffy nipples. “Y-Yes sir, o-Oh shit” Y/n moaned feeling him spit onto her face, his hands kneading at her hips, even spanking it lewdly. “What did I read people callin’ these once? Child bearin hips” He whispered licking up between her tits, her hands clawing onto his ass, pushing his hips farther into her; her tongue reaching out for his as her drool covered face mashed up against his in a sealing kiss.

Ari groaning at the feeling of his woman’s cunt clenching around his length, her hips wrapping her legs around his waist, caging him against her body as he continued thrusting in and out of her mercilessly. “Ya like that baby? The thought of your professor knockin you up? Watchin’ you walk around campus all full of my baby? Only we would know our dirty secret” He taunted whispering right against her lips, a string of saliva connecting them as she cried out and had to bite her lip to keep the rest in.

“Yes- Yes I want it all! Fuck just give it to me daddy, need it so bad, warm me up with your cum” She squealed feeling his hand leave her hips to start circling at her precious delicate button, rubbing it raw as he helped her chase her orgasm, his catching up with it. “Whatever my baby wants, she gets” He sighed out, and Y/n swore she saw stars, her toes twinkling closed, his shaft hitting her G-spot repeatedly. Their torsos flattened against each other, her hips slowly gyrating, his seed filling her to the brim, creating a cream like effect to the base of his cock where they connected.

“So what did you think about these hip dips again?” He breathed out resting his forehead against hers, fully taking off her sweater so they could feel each other’s warmth, skin to skin. “You mean my love handles babe” She giggled beaming up at him, despite her face being riddled with sweat and saliva, but Ari was sure he looked the exact same. From then on he swore he would fuck the insecurities out of her, even if it was the last thing he’d do.

“That’s my girl, now come on, let’s go home so I can help you with this ‘stupid sociology essay’ so we can spend the week doing somethin more productive” He joked cleaning her up a bit, even fixing her hair that was now all over the place, “Or something more reproductive” She giggled kicking her legs, already feeling him growing hard against her thigh, she’s got him again.

———

PSA: Big beefy Ari is back again🫶🫶🫶🙏

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist ( not accepting, use library)

@pandaxnienke @patzammit @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone @evanstanwhore @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @fdl305 @mirikusashes @marvelgurl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @caps-shield1918 @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @adoreyouusugar @imboredat2am @cevansgurl @meetmeatyourworst @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @s-void @aerangi @roofwitty779 @ravenhood2792 @feltonswifesworld87 @alina02 @bookfrog242 @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @angelmather1 @bval-1 @stuckysgirl27 @wintasssoldier @daddymack01 @acornacre @thebaileybugle @seungcheol17daddy

See you all at the next update🫶

[megalony]

Care To Dance

This is an Evan (Buck) Buckley request that I was so thrilled to write I just had to finish it tonight. I hope this is what you wanted lovely anon, any other requests would always be amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: After an accident, Evan is helping his wife in her recovery and he loves to look after her. Especially when they go to the Christmas party. (Lots of fluff)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grabbing the remote, (Y/n) turned the volume down on the tv until it was barely audible and gently turned to look down at Evan.

She reached her hand out and slowly carded her fingers through his hair that had gone slightly curly from the shower. He was laid in the middle of the bed on his stomach, his head buried deep between the pillows with one arm up against the headboard. His other arm was draped over (Y/n)'s lap and he was breathing softly, starting to drool in his sleep.

He looked beyond tired when he walked in a few hours ago and as soon as he laid down in bed, he went out like a light.

(Y/n) knew he was excited to be back at work, he had been off for nearly two months since she had her accident but it surprised (Y/n) the most that Evan wasn't desperate to get back to work like he was when he injured his own leg. In fact, he was more desperate to stay home than be back out as a firefighter.

Evan wasn't ashamed to say he broke down when Chimney called him to say they had arrived at a crash site and (Y/n) was one of the victims. He had stayed in the hospital for the first week, not even bothering to go home even to shower. Then he was there every day without fail while (Y/n) went through physio and stayed in for a month.

This last month Evan had been home, getting (Y/n) through the bad days and feeling on top of the world when she had a good day. It surprised Evan himself, just how much he took to looking after her. Of course he always did before the crash, she was his wife and his world, but having the time off work to be able to help her around the flat and take her out and just generally take care of her was something Evan never thought about doing and never thought he'd love so much.

(Y/n) asked if he was sure when he said he was going to reduce his hours at work and he was. Evan wanted less hours as a fire fighter and more hours as a husband to look after her.

Leaning down, (Y/n) kissed the top of Evan's head, biting back a smile when he nuzzled into her side. When he settled again, (Y/n) carefully slid out from beneath his arm and got out of bed. Evan had just done a twenty-four hour shift and there was no way (Y/n) was going to wake him. She was going to try this on her own.

This last week had been a better week for (Y/n). Her whole left side was frazzled with nerve damage and partial paralysis in her leg. It meant that while she could walk, walking hurt and she now had a wheelchair for when they went out. But it also made getting up the stairs hard.

When she came home, (Y/n) thought she'd be sleeping on the pull out sofa but Evan wouldn't hear of it. He set up a challenge of trying to build up her stamina and climbing an extra step each day and he made things fun. Some times he would give her a piggy back up the stairs when she was having a good day and other times he would hoist her up bridal style when he was feeling sweet.

But when Evan felt playful, he would hoist her over his shoulder like the fireman he was and carry her up.

(Y/n) wasn't so used to doing the stairs on her own, if Evan was doing a long shift like he had just completed, he asked Maddie to pop in and check on (Y/n). But she was lucky there was a toilet downstairs and the shower upstairs so she could wait for Evan to finish his shift and politely ask for help up the stairs.

Her brows furrowed when she got to the stairs; the railing was on her left side when she walked down, and her left hand wasn't so good at flexing or gripping at the moment.

Keeping her right hand plastered to the wall, (Y/n) shuffled her left leg down to the next step and then her right, going slow and steady until she got halfway and her leg started to twitch. A new tactic was needed. She sat down with great effort and stretched her left leg out before shuffling down on her bum, using her right foot to steady herself.

It took about five minutes to get downstairs but it was worth it to keep Evan asleep and rested.

At least today was a good pain day, this week she'd only had one bad day and Evan had been home that day so she wasn't alone.

She flicked the kettle on and grabbed a mug to make some tea, it was routine now to do everything with her right hand and leave her left arm rested on the counter. She could lift her arm and start to clench her fingers a little but her whole arm was always trembling.

"Fuck," (Y/n) closed her eyes and tipped her head back when she got to the bottom of the stairs.

How was she going to get back up?

Come on (Y/n).

This was going to take a while. She placed her cup a few steps up, grabbed the railing and started to pull herself up. It was going slow but steady until her foot got caught on the step below and she crashed down on her knees and knocked her mug. She grabbed out to get the mug but half her tea spilled down the steps and across her knees before she could do anything.

"For God's sake!"

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) tipped her head against the banister and let the tears fall freely.

Why couldn't she do a simple task like making herself a drink? She couldn't even carry a drink up the stairs without screwing it up. This wasn't fair, she was married to a firefighter, the bravest man she ever knew who ran into burning buildings and dove into deep waters to save people. And his wife couldn't get herself up the stairs without assistance.

"Babe? Where are you, you okay?" Evan rubbed his eyes and glanced around the bedroom but his eyes narrowed when he couldn't see his girl. She had been here when he went to sleep, Evan couldn't sleep without her by his side anymore.

He didn't like the thought of (Y/n) struggling round the flat while he was asleep, if he was home he wanted to help her. He didn't want her thinking she couldn't wake him for anything.

When Evan heard a small cry and a whimper, his heart rocketed up into his chest and he struggled to unwrap himself from the bedsheet and clamber off the bed. Where was (Y/n), what was she doing?

Evan was about to head over to the bathroom but he stopped when he just so happened to glance down the stairs.

There she was. There was his beautiful, brave, amazing wife, sat halfway up the stairs. The sight made Evan freeze and his heart battered against his ribs like it was trying to break free. Had she fallen? Why on Earth was she going down without him? He told her not to, he begged her to just wake him if she needed to go up and down the stairs. If he had to Evan would beg her on his knees to get her to realise that he was her husband and he wanted to care for her.

She had taken such amazing care of him when he damaged his leg and he wanted to do the same for her.

"Baby…" Evan ruffled his hair as he jogged down the stairs and sat down next to her. He didn't have to ask to know what happened, he took in the sight of her sat awkwardly on her knees, burying her face in the banister and a spilled cup of tea dribbling down the stairs. "I told you to wake me."

"You've been at work, I- I should be able to carry a cup up the stairs… I'm useless-"

"Don't take like that! You," He leaned forward to gently cup her face in his hands and rest their foreheads together. "You are my brave girl, alright? Look at you, two months and we've already got you walking up and down these stairs and you've got the grip back in your hand. They told me I could have lost you after that crash but here you are. You are not useless, you hear me?"

(Y/n) brought both shaking hands up to cup Evan's fingers that were smoothing over her cheeks, brushing away her tears. She hated that Evan was starting to cry as well, she didn't want to make him cry that was the last thing she intended to do. She couldn't seem to look away from his eyes, the more he cried, the deeper his blue eyes became.

"You heaved me up and down these stairs when I shattered my leg, you helped me get washed and held me up with my leg sticking out the shower. If I tell you I wanna carry you up these stairs then I'll do it because I want to and I love you."

When Evan got to the hospital, Bobby was there holding him up and sat cradling him on the floor when he had a panic attack at the thought of losing (Y/n). They didn't expect her to wake up after surgery, they didn't expect her to have any feeling in her hand or leg.

Physio were surprised when she began walking again and started to grip things in her left hand. Evan was told to move the bed downstairs because she wouldn't be able to climb up and down the stairs but look at her now. They had got her walking up and down the stairs at least once a day unaided.

But if (Y/n) needed help, Evan wanted her to ask because he didn't care what time it was, how tired he was or what was going on. He would carry her everywhere if she asked.

"I love you," (Y/n) brushed her nose against his before she pressed a wet kiss to his lips, feeling him laugh against her.

"Good, cos I love you more than anything. Now can we go back to bed?"

(Y/n) nodded her head and squeaked when Evan scooped her up in his arms bridal style as soon as she smiled his way.

"Grab your tea," He chuckled, leaning her down so she could take her cup that was almost half full. She had made it and got halfway up and Evan was proud of her, but he wanted her back in bed in his arms again. His lips smothered her temple and he carried her back up the stairs and as soon as she was laid on the bed, Evan crawled on top of her. He laid between her legs with his arms wrapped tight around her waist and his face tucked into the crook of her neck.

He pressed butterfly kisses against her skin, smiling to himself when he felt her fingertips grazing across his skin drawing patterns across his back.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm good, but you need to rest." (Y/n) kissed the top of his head and continued to feather her fingers across his bare back, trying to lull him back to sleep. He was tired, it was written across his face and he needed sleep, she didn't want to keep him awake any longer than necessary.

"The Christmas party at the station is in a few days… do you think you'd feel up to it?"

Evan could feel himself falling asleep but he tried to stay awake because he wanted to know the answer. The guys had asked him earlier if he and (Y/n) were going but he forgot it was this week. He wanted to go, any excuse for a celebration and Evan would always be there, he loved being with the team in calm happy situations like a party. After the last few months, he knew both he and (Y/n) could use brightening up with a party.

But he didn't want to go alone and if (Y/n) didn't feel up to it or she didn't want to face being out with so many people yet then he wouldn't go.

"Yeah, I've missed everybody and I know how much you love a party," (Y/n) moved her hand to card her fingers through Evan's hair, something she knew would make him fall asleep which was what he needed right now.

She hadn't seen the team in a few weeks and the parties were always fun and eventful. It would be nice to have a reason to get dressed up and leave the apartment other than for a hospital appointment or a brief walk with Evan or Maddie. And she knew they both needed this little piece of normality to help them get back to some sort of normal routine.

It was going to be fun.

***

"Baby, could you give me a hand?" (Y/n) batted her lashes up at her husband that she couldn't stop staring at since they left the apartment.

Evan was wearing a white button up shirt, high waisted black trousers and a blue jacket. He had the first two buttons undone and a green Christmas bow pinned to the left side of his shirt. He looked good and he had a Santa hat in her bag for if the festivities got heightened he could join in and play around.

His leaf green bow matched the colour of (Y/n)'s dress that fanned out around her knees and had a looped strap around the back of her neck but with a V-cut neckline that gave Evan quite a good view he couldn't stop glancing down at.

"What do you need, babe?" He smiled brightly and walked back towards her, he had ran ahead to dump a few presents near the food table ready to hand out later.

He furrowed his brows when (Y/n) grinned and held her hands out in front of her.

"Oh, you wanna walk in there?"

He reminded (Y/n) of a child that got hint of what his Christmas present would be. Evan didn't drive so they had picked an apartment close to the fire station and it just so happened that they could walk there in fifteen minutes. But with (Y/n) not doing well with long walking, she had used her wheelchair to get here.

(Y/n) didn't want to go in and greet everyone using her chair, they had seen her in it often enough when they visited her in hospital or the flat. She wanted to surprise the team and walk in and try to get around without the chair as much as she could. And she could sit down at a table and chat to everyone so she wouldn't over exert herself.

"Hell yeah! Here we go, Mrs Buckley." Evan rubbed his hands together before he stood just in front of her and held his hands out. He didn't even flex a muscle or move an inch when he took (Y/n)'s weight for her and helped her up to her feet.

Evan made quick work of moving the wheelchair just inside the station door so it was out the way before he held his arm out to (Y/n). She hooked her arm through his and held onto his elbow for support. (Y/n) knew she looked a little awkward when she walked, she practically dragged her left leg along with her but she was up and moving on her own- mostly her own but Evan was helping at the moment- and that was all that mattered.

"Hey, look who's here," Evan reached his free hand up and held onto (Y/n)'s hand but he couldn't refrain the wide grin that spread across his face when they quietly approached the rest of the team who were already here. They were all dancing and jingling along to the festive music playing in the background and starting to sort the food out.

Tables and chairs were set up in front of the gym, there was room to dance if the occasion took to it and the buffet was near the lockers. Bobby and Athena were coming down the stairs with the last of the food to go on the buffet.

"Oh my God!" Hen almost dropped her drink when she turned around and faced the couple.

In a split second she had passed her drink over to her wife Rachel and was barrelling over towards them until she could wrap her arms around (Y/n).

"You're up! Wow, you look so good," She pulled back enough to look (Y/n) up and down. Hen hadn't seen her walk since she'd visited last month and watched her hobble from the sofa to the kitchen. She looked so much better now, she wasn't stooped over or using anything to propel herself forward. With Evan by her side they looked just like they had a year ago when Evan first introduced them all to his wife.

"Thank you, it feels good to be out." When Hen pulled back a step, (Y/n) reached back out and happily coiled her arms around Evan's elbow that he kept offered out at her side.

"Hey you," Walking over, Eddie wrapped an arm around each of them and reeled them in for a joined hug and patted Evan on the back. Out of all of them, it was Eddie (Y/n) had seen the most when she came back home from the hospital. He and Christopher had been round at least three times a week to check up, see if they needed anything and offer company. They were the first people (Y/n) stepped out of the apartment with and Christopher was a great encouragement to get her walking again.

"Miss me?"

"You kidding, Chris is only here because he knows you two were coming."

"Wanna sit down?" Evan leaned down and hovered his lips over (Y/n)'s ear and when she nodded, he looked over at Eddie before they all moved towards the tables. When they got close, Evan unravelled his arm from (Y/n)'s and moved his hands to hold her hips so he could stand behind her and help ease her down into the chair next to Christopher. "I'll go get some drinks,"

(Y/n) tilted her head back into Evan's chest and squeezed his hand that rested on her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple before he headed over to the food table with Eddie.

It felt so good to be out the apartment and around people she classed as family. Maddie came over and wrapped her up in a hug, she exchanged words and jokes with Chimney and started throwing things around with Christopher to see who would notice.

For a while, it had felt better to stay cooped up in the flat and with Evan having time off to help care for her and be around her, (Y/n) didn't want to leave the flat either. But he was helping her make so much progress that it would be wrong not to come here tonight. She had to come when she could finally walk around and see everyone without asking them for help or advice or feel like a burden. And to see Evan laughing and having a drink and joking around with the boys, it made her heart swell.

After they'd had something to eat and Christopher started to gorge himself on a large slice of cake, (Y/n) could feel Evan come back over towards them and stand behind her. He'd gone to talk to Bobby for a while and left (Y/n) to sit with Chris, Hen and Rachel.

It was like a calming omen behind her, a guardian angel of sorts and when his hands came down to hold her shoulders and his lips pressed to the top of her head, (Y/n) felt like her heart was going to explode. He rubbed his fingers into her exposed skin and leaned his waist into her shoulders, trying to get back into the conversation.

"I'm gonna get another drink,"

Something fluttered in (Y/n)'s chest when Evan's hands moved from her shoulders to her waist and he held her comfortingly tight, helping her up before he wrapped his arm around her waist and reeled her into his side. He knew she was on a high right now, the pain wasn't nearly as bad as it could usually be and she was happy to be moving about.

But he didn't want her overdoing anything and if she was walking around, he wanted to be with her and take her weight if she needed him to.

(Y/n) binded her arms around his torso and kissed his exposed neck as they slowly walked over to the buffet table to get fresh drinks.

Evan pressed his lips to the side of (Y/n)'s head and kept his arm around her waist while he waited patiently. He would never presume to do anything for her when he knew his wife wanted to do as much for herself as she could, especially out in public to show their friends just how far she had come.

(Y/n) grabbed herself a new glass and one for Evan and placed them close to her before she grabbed the jug of beer. Evan wasn't on duty today which meant he could let loose and have a drink with her.

"Could you…?" (Y/n) looked between the glass and Evan, smiling when he whispered a quiet 'of course' and held the glasses steady for her. "Alright, I'm gonna try and impress my firefighter husband now, ready?" (Y/n) grinned cheekily at him and held her left wrist until she could get her hand curled around the glass.

With a deep breath, (Y/n) held her left arm close to her chest with Evan's glass in her hand and grabbed the other glass in her good hand, trying to steady herself. Her arm always trembled, it was a new trait she had acquired and it made the beer slosh around in the glass but she was trying and when she looked up at Evan, he had such a cheesy grin on his face that made (Y/n) want to cry.

"Consider me impressed, baby." Evan kept his hands on (Y/n)'s waist and kissed her neck as they headed back near the table. Just as they got close, (Y/n) gasped quietly when her hand started to shake worse and she could feel her fingers starting to lose their grip. "I got you babe," As swift as anything, Evan moved one hand and curled his fingers around the back of her hand. He steadied her hand and kept her fingers around the glass until they could put them down on the table.

"Buck, you need to dance." Christopher curled his hands around Buck's arm once (Y/n) was sat down and tugged him towards the area where Hen, Rachel and even Bobby were starting to dance.

"Oh, I'll show you a few moves."

(Y/n) watched them wander over to dance and her heart swelled even more when she watched her husband pick Christopher up and spin him round. Evan was always one to show off his unusual dance moves and he was up for a boogie tonight.

"It's amazing,"

"Oh you know what he's like for dancing," (Y/n) barely managed to tear her eyes away from her husband to look over at Maddie who was sat next to her at the table. There was something in Maddie's eyes that made (Y/n) grin but she wasn't sure why.

"That's not what I meant," She spoke softly and leaned closer, "I've never seen Buck so happy and intimate before. He'd do anything for you." Maddie had seen her little brother in a wreck when (Y/n) had her accident and she had tried to be around to help out when (Y/n) first came home from the hospital. But it soon became clear that she wasn't needed.

Evan had everything covered, he knew exactly what to do to help her and look after her and he loved doing it. If (Y/n) asked he would burn the world down and crawl through broken glass on his knees if she wanted him to.

(Y/n) brushed a hand across her cheek to swipe away the few tears that escaped. With a lasting smile, (Y/n) used the table as leverage and pushed herself up.

It was a lot harder walking when she didn't have Evan to lean on but she was determined. She pressed a finger to her lips when she got close and Bobby nodded, saying nothing when she snook up behind her husband and reached up as high as she could since he was taller than her.

Evan smiled down at Christopher who had hold of his hands but he froze when a hand suddenly covered his eyes. He wondered for a second if it was Maddie or even Eddie trying to sneak up on him but once he felt a very familiar frame pressing up into his back and a pair of lips against his neck, his smile broadened.

"Care to dance, Mr Buckley?"

(Y/n) almost toppled over from how fast her husband spun around and wrapped his arms around her waist. She giggled when Evan's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and his lips feverishly pressed to hers.

"I'd love to,"

"Lend a hand then baby,"

Evan got the hint and reached down for her left arm and slowly looped it around the back of his neck. It was oddly comforting to feel her trembling fingers trying to caress the back of his neck and he liked the way (Y/n) curved her other arm around his back to pull him closer until they were moulded together.

"Keep on pulling me around and we'll have to leave early." He whispered the fiery words against her ear but she could feel his fingertips pressing into her hips and the way he pushed further into her with a wolfish grin.

(Y/n) grinned to herself and buried her face in his chest, minding the bow still pinned to his shirt. She let Evan take control and slowly sway them from side to side before he started to turn on his heels, gently moving (Y/n) along with him. It was like their first slow dance they had at their wedding, calm and tranquil after all the buzz and excitement.

They both knew they wouldn't be here at the party for much longer, (Y/n) couldn't stay standing for long and she didn't want to sit down all night or resort to her wheelchair. But it had been so much fun already and (Y/n) relished being in Evan's arms like this. It made them both forget everything that had happened in the last few months.

There had been no crash, no hospital admission or physio, no screams and cries of anguish and no trouble getting up and down the stairs.

"I love you, Evan Buckley. Thank you for, for everything." There were no words for (Y/n) to express how much gratitude she had for the man holding her safe and sound in his arms. She couldn't thank him for everything he had done or they would be here for a lifetime, but she wanted him to know that everything he did, she loved him more and more each day for it.

"Oh babe, we're just getting started."

Evan spun them both on his heels before he leaned forward and dipped (Y/n) down just like at their wedding. His grin widened into a smirk when he heard the team whooping and clapping and with a wink, he moved closer and merged their lips together.

[theemporium]

♥️47 w/ Nico Hischier… please and thank you

this is inspired by the return of the moustache but fuelled by my brain being fried from uni so the smut is mediocre at best🤠thank you for requesting!

47. "You heard me. I want you to sit on my face."

.

To be perfectly candid, you were less than subtle about admiring your boyfriend’s new look for the off-season.

But, as his girlfriend, it was your right to helplessly ogle your boyfriend after he decided to shave the rest of his beard short and leave his moustache to be accompanied by some stubble. Add in the fact he had still put off cutting his hair—thank every fucking superior being for that one—and had a new glow about him since the stress of the hockey season was finally off his shoulders, it was impossible not to stare. 

He was just so pretty and he was all yours. And, yeah, you really fucking missed staring at Nico’s face with no practices or games or meetings getting in your way. 

It just never occurred to you that Nico would ever call you out on the blatant way you would ogle him since he brought back the moustache, which is why his words completely caught you off guard.

“What?” 

Nico grinned at you, so fucking smug and sure of himself as he placed his hands on his hips like you were talking about the weather. “You heard me,” he said, his voice low and sweet and far too fucking melodic for you to really concentrate on his ego when he sounded like that. “I want you to sit on my face.” 

You blinked, standing in the doorway between your shared bedroom and the joined ensuite bathroom. You stared at him, your mind whirling with a million different thoughts but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a single word. 

“Been thinking about it all week,” he continued as he started to close the distance between you, his eyes glinting with an emotion that made your stomach twist in desire. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking, baby. Tell me you haven’t thought about it too.” 

“I—” You stuttered out, your face burning in response. Because truthfully, you had been thinking about it. But your thoughts had been based around Nico pinning your hips to the mattress, to settle between your legs and to let you feel the scratch of his beard across your sensitive inner thighs until you were left begging and panting and whining for more.

It never crossed your mind for you to be the one on top.

“Just want my pretty girl on top of me,” Nico hummed as he reached for you, his large hands engulfing the back of your head and it made your brain short circuit for a few moments. “Let me have a taste, hm?” 

“Nico,” you murmured, and the hesitancy was clear in your voice. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

He frowned. “Why not?” 

“I–” You let out a noise before shrugging. “What if I squish you or—”

You barely had a chance to react to the snort he let out before his hands dropped from your head, reaching for your thighs and lifting you into his arms with an ease that didn’t feel human at all. You blinked, left speechless as Nico shamelessly grinned up at you, walking back towards the bed with you in his arms.

“I can handle it, baby,” he said, squeezing the fat of your thighs as he emphasised his point. “Now, be a good girl and sit on my face, hm? Wanna fucking drown in you.”

And you really couldn’t be blamed for being unable to say no to those pretty brown eyes staring up at you like he wanted to devour you. You could, however, be blamed for that naive voice in the back of your mind that told you that you’d be in control because you were on top.

It took all of five minutes for that belief to crumble the second Nico got his hands on you. 

“Fuck,” you let out a high-pitched whine, head tipped back and lips parted as you felt his lips wrap around your clit and suck, humming deeply as he did. 

His arms were locked around your thighs, keeping you in position with his hands pawing your ass and guiding your rocking hips. His hair was dishevelled and messy, spread across the pillow like some twisted angelic painting whilst those pretty brown eyes were now glued to you, watching as he licked and sucked and kissed every single noise out of you. 

His chin and lips were glistening with your release, that moustache fucking soaked and his tongue branded with the taste of you—and fuck, Nico truly believed he was in heaven. Because that was the only reasonable explanation for this: for the sight of you on top, your hips rocking and your soaked cunt at his mercy, your hands squeezing your tits and your mouth moaning his name. 

It was fucking heaven and it made him rock hard in the flimsy shorts he had put on earlier, probably seconds away from busting a load despite not even touching himself once. 

His only coherent thought was that he should have shaved earlier if this was what he could gain from it. 

“Fuck, Nico, baby,” you stuttered out, all breathy and panting as you reached one hand down to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as he groaned against your cunt. “Shit, I-I can’t.”

“One more, schat,” he murmured, his warm breath fanned across your core and it made your legs twitch, and it made Nico smile against your cunt in response. “Please, baby, let me taste you. Let me taste my pretty girl.”

And you were fucking putty in his arms, letting yourself tip over the edge as you clung onto the headboard to keep yourself from keeling over. 

Yet, all he could think was that he definitely wasn’t getting rid of the moustache anytime soon.

.

[selfcarecap]

Never Have I Ever [p.p]

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: When Peter meets you at college and you two bond over your lack of sexual experience, you quickly become the best friend he’s ever had. But while he falls madly in love with you, he doesn’t know if you feel the same. You hold his hand when you’re out together, talk to him about the vibrator you want to buy and bless him with that beautiful look in your eyes that is reserved only for him… yet he’s not sure if you see more than a friend in him. Little does he know, you’re wondering the same about him, hoping for the same outcome.

Warnings: smut (all first time, oral f + m receiving, dry humping (semi-public? but it’s completely uninterrupted and unseen and in a remote location lol), masturbation (f with a sex toy and m with the reader’s underwear), vaginal sex – the second half of this is basically all smut), a sprinkle of jealous Peter, Professor Garfield lol, a little bit of angst ig bc Peter keeps doubting himself and thinks he’s a pervert but he’s just dumb as shit and oblivious, (all Peter’s pov <3), fic starts off with an awkward and embarrassing story lol, alcohol/drunk!Peter, (btw if first year of college sounds a little young to you you can always imagine they just took a break between hs and college), idk how college works in the usa, also I mention Peter's enhanced senses but it's not a Spiderman fic at all lol

Word Count: 23k omg, the longest thing I’ve ever written (if that’s too long for you i’ve put four ‘dividers’ in total so it’s split into 4 more or less equally long parts (the first is like 4k, second is 7k, then 4k again and the last is 8k) but of course you can ignore that and just read all of it in one go, all 23k are in this post, it’s a one shot)

It's finally here! Thank you for all the love I received for the teaser and just talking about this fic already 💘 This has been on my mind for so so long and I’ve been (sporadically and inconsistently) writing it since like September. I’m so glad it’s finally finished, this was one of my favourite wips I‘ve ever worked on, I really loved writing Peter and the reader and their dynamic and experiences and I hope you love reading it just as much 💖

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s Peter’s first week of college and so far he barely knows anyone. The guys in the rooms next to Peter’s are cool, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to know a few more people, so he decides to go to this party he’s been hearing about all week.

The party is exactly how he imagined it; loud music, drinking games, a pretty girl sitting next to him. So pretty that he doesn’t dare look at you for too long because he’s worried you’ll catch him staring and think he’s being weird.

The game you’re all playing started as a simple never have I ever, but somehow people are now telling their funniest sex stories. Peter doesn’t realise it’s part of the game that everyone tells a sex story until it’s your turn and he notices how the last few people all told a story, one after the other, going around the circle you’re all sitting in.

His heart starts thumping harder in his chest. He doesn’t have a sex story to tell. But if he gets up now it will be obvious that he’s avoiding his turn, right? 

Fuck.

Besides, he wants to listen to your story. He just has to hope that his usually clever brain will help him come up with something when it’s his turn.

“Most memorable sex experience…” you hum in thought as you lightly drum the bottle in your hands against your lips. “Oh wait, this one’s funny. The guy I was with asked me if I peed myself when he took off my underwear because he didn‘t know that women get wet when they‘re turned on. I explained it to him but he wouldn’t believe me. 

“He was sweet about it and told me it happens to the best of us — and that he sometimes pees himself too. So at that point, I just saw it as a second chance from the universe to show me what this guy was like and I left.” 

The students around you laugh and comment on the story and as you look over at Peter a few seconds later he realises the other people are doing the same. 

They‘re expecting him to tell a sex story now. His mouth goes dry and his brain is empty. Think. Think. Think. Think of something. Anything. 

But he has nothing.

You speak up again, pointing at the guy next to Peter, “Oh my god, Brandon, you remember that story you told me earlier? You need to tell that one, that was the funniest thing I‘ve ever heard.”

A weight is lifted off of Peter‘s shoulders when the attention simply shifts to the guy next to him.

What felt like overthinking for hours when he couldn‘t come up with anything to say was probably only a short moment, less than five seconds, and not a single person noticed that they skipped over Peter. He lets out a breath of relief as other people tell stories and no one demands anything from Peter. 

He keeps glancing at you, trying to figure out if what you did was deliberate or not. 

The only thing he‘s gotten from you so far is a second of eye contact, your face neutral but your eyes holding something positive. The next time you stand up to refill your drink, Peter follows you into the kitchen.

You smile at him when you see him enter, offering some of the diet coke you‘re pouring into your cup to him. “No thanks,” Peter says, watching you fill the rest of your drink with rum. 

“I don‘t know if you did that on purpose or not but uh.. thanks,” he says, clearing his throat after, annoyed at himself for sounding so nervous. You’re gorgeous, but he doesn’t even know you yet. You’re a stranger, yet he finds himself caring about what you think of him.

You muster him for a few seconds before you realise what he’s talking about.

“Oh. You mean during the.. the sex stories? That was no big deal. You just looked a little uncomfortable so I tried my best to get the attention to shift to someone else,” you smile.

“Thanks, that... that was really kind. Although I was kind of hoping it wasn‘t obvious how nervous I was. I just don‘t have any special or funny sex stories to tell... or any sex stories at all,” he avoids eye contact when he says it but you immediately get what he means. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You say, taking a step forward to stand closer to him, his cheeks heating up. He nods.

“The story I told? That was completely made up. I‘ve never had sex with anyone either. And I‘m not ashamed of that fact, I mean I‘m so young and there‘s nothing wrong with waiting or honestly I‘ve just never... been in that type of situation with a boy…”

“I get it. You don‘t have to explain yourself. Same boat,” he smiles and nudges your shoulder but regrets it instantly.

Nudging your shoulder? He has never nudged anyone‘s shoulder. Especially not the shoulder of a pretty girl he just met. 

You don‘t take any notice of it though, much to Peter‘s relief, and you continue. 

“Even if I personally don‘t care how old anyone is when they have their first time, I just felt nervous saying it in a room full of frat boys. I know this year has barely started but so far all the frat boys I’ve met live up to their reputation and I didn‘t want them making any stupid comments. 

“If I was my ideal, confident self - or just a little tipsier - I probably would have just said that I don’t have any sex stories to tell but... I don‘t know. I was nervous.”

“I get that. That‘s exactly how I felt too. Only I wasn‘t creative enough to think of a story. My mind just blanked, I must have looked crazy when it was my turn to say something. You were calm though, the story seemed as real as all the others... maybe even more real, I mean what you said sounds very realistic to me considering how little most men know about women’s bodies.” 

“Yeah,” you giggle, “But you didn‘t look nervous either. It‘s just that I knew I might not be the only one too nervous to admit that I don‘t have any experience so I was hyper-aware of it, I guess.”

“Okay, I‘m glad. Thanks again.” The conversation is slowly dying but he doesn’t want it to end yet.

He holds his hand in front of him, “I’m Peter by the way. Biochemistry and computer science.”

His fingers tremble for a second. Who introduces himself like that? God, he’s messing this up before it even started.

But you grin, trying not to laugh and tell him your name and introduce yourself in the same way, “Oceanography and computer science.”

He takes a second to release the breath that he was holding in, “Oceanography? Wow, that sounds really interesting. You‘ll have to tell me more about that.” 

“It is. And I will once college starts. I‘m really excited.” 

“Me too. And computer science? That means we‘ll probably have a few classes together right?”

“Probably. Do you have your schedule yet?”

He takes out his phone and shows you the picture he took of it, and you lean in to look at it so closely that he can smell your lovely perfume.

“I don‘t have it on my phone but I recognise that professor’s name,” you point at a name on the screen, “I‘m in that class too, I heard professor Garfield is really good. I have two classes with him.”

And that‘s how you two end up talking all night. Peter walks you home and you realise your dorm rooms are merely minutes away from each other and you make a vow to meet each other again. He really hopes you don’t forget about him, or that you weren’t just being nice.

Peter falls asleep with a smile on his face and you on his mind. 

*

The next day, he realises with disappointment that you didn’t exchange numbers. He would like to text you and meet you in front of the lecture hall so it would be less nerve-wracking to go to his first-ever college lecture.

It would help to have someone he already knows with him and in case you were nervous he’d love to be there to calm you down too; make you feel less alone–you can do this together.

He knows one of his first classes on Tuesday is one that he shares with you. But he hopes he can see you on Monday to be each other’s support, or at least to see you for five minutes between classes.

He looks for you all day, but doesn’t see you again.

He’s giddy all night, knowing he’s definitely going to see you tomorrow. His plan is to get up extra early and casually and totally coincidentally lounge around in the hallway that your room is in, and then you can go to class together.

But one missed alarm later he‘s running through the building, trying to find the lecture hall that was shown to him during freshers week, but he didn’t quite manage to remember each one of the hundreds of rooms.

Time is running out and he has one minute until the lecture starts. He runs around the next corner and finally finds the hall he’s supposed to be in.

There are hundreds of students though, and he seems to be one of the last; he can’t even see if there are any seats left.

While his eyes scan the rows for an empty seat–but more importantly for you–he sees some movement directed at him. A wave.

His eyes travel down the arm that's waving at him and soon he’s making eye contact with you. He’s only met you once but he can’t stop a huge smile from taking over his entire face.

Peter blushes while he’s walking up the steps, on his way to you, but once he’s close he can see your bright smile and he’s immediately reminded of why he likes you so much.

“Hi,” Peter plops down next to you on the first seat of the row. You lean in and Peter’s breath gets caught in his throat when he realises you’re hugging him–just a friendly side hug, but it’s a hug nevertheless.

He takes his water out of his bag, trying to calm himself down by focussing on the cool drink running down his throat. It does clear his mind, the water, but he’s more and more comfortable with every second that he sits next to you. Your aura is so kind and calming, and he finds his shoulders losing the tension as you start talking to him.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it or something. We forgot to exchange numbers so I found your Instagram and was gonna message you there. But you‘re private so I couldn‘t.”

Ever since you said goodbye the night after the party, Peter has been worrying that that was all. That it was just an in-the-moment type of thing and you wouldn’t think it was anything special – or worse, you’d forget about him. But now you’re here, keeping a spot for him, telling him you’ve been thinking about him and wanted to message him. The warmth in his chest spreads when you smile at him.

And sure, just because you remember him doesn’t mean you’re best friends, but it confirms that Peter isn’t the only one who thought you had a connection that was worth remembering.

Peter most definitely also stalked your Instagram. It’s public but he didn’t want you thinking he was weird for spam-liking all your pictures–which he definitely wanted to do but he stopped himself in time. 

He put a timer on Instagram for the app to remind him when it’s been twenty minutes of looking at your pictures. Not that there were enough to be scrolling for twenty minutes straight – he simply enjoyed looking at you.

He takes his phone out and accepts the follow request you sent him and follows you back.

“Put your number in,” you place your phone in front of him, opened on a new contact card that Peter fills out with his number and name. You look at it and add a <3 behind his name and Peter prays he’s not blushing as hard as it feels.

You text him You up? and if his cheeks weren’t red before then they definitely are now. He can tell you’re just teasing but the fact that you’re already comfortable enough to joke around with him makes him grin.

He feels like he can be himself with you and you’re doing the same. You’re not holding back with showing Peter that you like him and it makes him feel good about himself. 

But his smile fades when he hears your next words

“The professor is so hot, I have no idea how I‘ll concentrate. I talked to him before I sat down and he has a really nice voice too. And that accent… But wait till he turns around and you see his face – or you could just stare at his ass.” 

Peter doesn’t know why it feels like someone stabbed him right in the heart. And when he sees you further staring at the man, it’s like that knife is being pulled out of his chest and Peter bleeds out. 

“I-it’s not even that big,” Peter tries.

You look at him and now he feels stupid for having said that. 

“Butts don‘t have to be big to be hot. Little booties matter. And they’re really cute sometimes.”

“W-well yes, of course, but.. he‘s really not that hot,” Peter says, and then Professor Garfield turns around, “...okay he is that hot.”

“Told you,” you sing, a smile on your face, and he can’t be mad at you when you’re looking at him like that. He couldn’t be mad at you no matter what you did. While Professor Garfield, or Andrew–as he tells you all to call him–starts the lecture, Peter tries to figure out what’s got him so mad.

Yes, of course you’re pretty. You’re gorgeous. But that doesn’t mean that he has to have a crush on you immediately. Just because you’re a girl and he’s a guy doesn’t mean that this has to go beyond a friendship. Men and women can be just friends. He can’t just fall in love with the first pretty woman who’s nice to him.

Okay, maybe he already has a crush on you. So what? Who can blame him?

But Peter doesn’t want to rush anything with you. He’ll give you the time to figure out what you feel for him, and he’ll just follow your lead. He may think you already like him as much as he likes you, but it’s still only the second time you’re ever seeing each other. 

That and he just doesn’t want to overthink it all and end up losing the first person at college who genuinely feels like someone he could be friends with.

He tries to ignore how you giggle at every joke the professor makes and tries to focus on the warmth of you next to him instead. Not too much though, he’s already let your teasing get to his head and maybe even to a body part further down.

Even if it means he won’t have to witness you laughing at Professor Garfield’s jokes anymore, Peter is sad when the lecture is over. It’s the only lecture he has today and therefore also the only one he has with you today.

As you pack your things and people swarm out of the lecture hall, you and Peter stay back, taking it slow.

“What’s your next class?” You ask, looking him right in the eyes–like any normal person–but he’ll really have to get used to that. He can’t lose his mind every time you just look at him. But he's so attracted to you.

“I, um, I no. I mean, I don’t have any other classes today.”

You smile unexpectedly, “Cool, me neither. You wanna do something? We could get lunch together.”

You say it with such ease, showing your interest in him like you don’t know how it’s making Peter feel warm and bubbly inside.

Even if Peter still gets nervous around you, simply because he wants to impress you and doesn’t want to fuck this up, he realises quickly that he has no reason to be. 

Your friendship blooms effortlessly and quickly. 

A week later you’re texting like you’ve been best friends for years and he finds himself too happy around you to worry about what he’s saying or how he’s acting. You like him the way he is and he can feel it deeply and confidently. 

Yes, he still stutters a lot around you - but he does that around most people, to be fair - and once you part ways for the day he overanalyses every little thing you’ve said to him, overthinks every little touch of yours for some form of affection that is more than platonic.

And it’s hard, figuring out whether you like him as more than a friend.

But this friendship is so new and so exciting that Peter thinks it makes him just as happy as an average relationship in the honeymoon phase would. So even if he does crave more intimacy with you, it’s hard to complain when he has a friend like you.

*

You show up at Peter’s door at midnight on a Friday. His sleep schedule has been surprisingly healthy for a college freshman so if anyone else disturbed him when he was already in pyjamas, he’d be annoyed.

But with you, he’s ecstatic. He’s awake immediately, grinning from ear to ear at your surprise visit. You never left his mind but he thought he’d have to wait until tomorrow to see you again.

Peter is more than aware of the contrast between your done up state and him in his ratty old pyjamas. You’ve seen him in pyjamas before and he knows better than to think you’d judge him, but he can’t help but to want to at least try and match you when you’re looking as gorgeous as you are.

“Oh sorry, I thought you’d still be up,” is the first thing you say, ready to leave if you’re bothering him in any way.

“No, no, I am, don’t worry. What’s up?” Peter asks, trying to look cool as he leans against his door frame. He ignores how it hurts like hell where his elbow meets a sharp corner.

“Well… I was gonna ask if you wanna go watch a movie with me,” you give him a charming smile not knowing he’d say yes no matter what you asked of him.

“Now?”

“Uh, yes. Now. But it’s fine if not, genuinely I won’t be mad. I can see that you had other plans,” you smile at his pyjamas.

“No. Don’t worry, I’d love to go. Do you have tickets or…?” Jealousy bubbles up inside Peter when he realises you might have been planning to go with someone else. With some other guy. Maybe he bailed on you and Peter is the second option (which he would still be grateful for, but he hates the thought of you with another guy).

“No, but I checked online and they have plenty of tickets left. It’s the last day they’re playing this film. The one I told you about, the horror one.”

“Oh God.” He’s trying to pretend that you still need to convince him when really Peter just needs a second to realise he was just overthinking again. He is your first choice. Not another guy.

“Pleeeease, Peter,” you grab his arm and pout. 

Peter has been convinced since the moment you showed up at his door.

“Give me a second,” he smiles and you grin back, “Really? You’re the best,” you kiss his cheek enthusiastically and he goes back into his room fast enough to hide his blush.

He picks out an outfit, brushes his teeth and puts on deodorant just in case.

You take him to the cinema with your hand in his. Peter knows it’s not a romantic gesture, you’re just treating him like you’d treat a female friend, but his brain doesn’t know the difference. He’s just happy to be touching you.

When you buy the tickets the guy at the movie theatre shows you the available seats on his screen. He points to one of those love seats where two seats are joined together so you can cuddle.

You nod and when the guy gives Peter a congratulatory smile, Peter’s cheeks heat up. The guy probably thinks you and Peter are a couple. It’s not just good for Peter’s ego and the fake scenarios with you that he’ll imagine before bed, but it’s also better for the guy. Peter saw the way he was eyeing you, and Peter doesn’t know what he would have done if the guy had asked for your number.

“We can cuddle,” you grin as you sit down and pat the seat next to you. You’re almost alone in the theatre, you could sit anywhere you want but you want to be close to him.

While you wait for the trailers to start you take Snapchat videos with Peter, asking him if you can send them to your friends at home. His heart swells when you say that you’ve told them about him.

He takes pictures of you looking all pretty and perfect and he wonders if it would be too much to set it as his phone wallpaper. Your head is on his shoulder as you scroll through the pictures that he just took of you and your perfume is hypnotising.

How is every little thing about you so captivating? Peter has never met anyone like you.

He’s fucking scared during the movie, but with his eyes mostly closed he manages to be the guy you can hold on to during the creepy scenes. Your fingers around his bicep squeeze every time there is a jumpscare and at some point he has to force himself to watch the film after all if he doesn’t want to get hard from your touch. He knows it’s pathetic, but he can’t help it.

You look beautiful in the light of the stars as you two walk home, your hand still around his arm, gushing about the film and thanking him for watching it with you despite the spontaneous change of his plans.

You spend some time in the common area by your dorms. It’s late and everyone else seems to be at some party elsewhere or sleeping. You cling on to Peter, still jumpy from the horror film and he nearly asks you if you want to sleep in his bed.

He nearly says it about five times, but he can’t quite get the words out. He doesn’t want to give you the wrong impression, even if you may be about to ask the same thing.

Peter sits there nervously, gulping as he’s about to ask. He really will say it this time. But before he opens his mouth he hears your deep breaths and notices how your body has gone slack against his side.

He kisses the top of your head in content and soon, sleep finds Peter too. He doesn’t have to dream about being close to you because it’s already his reality.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s a few weeks into the semester and it’s become a routine for you two to study together. Whether you’re helping each other with the classes you share, or silently working on other things and enjoying each other’s company, your study sessions have even managed to make studying a rather fun part of college. 

Especially when you’re both sitting on Peter’s bed, and your knees or legs or arms are always touching.

You’re not focussed today, scrolling around on your phone instead of studying. You throw your phone to the bed at some point and you hug your legs to your chest in thought.

“You think Andrew will let me suck his dick? For a better score?”

Peter’s heart stops beating for a second. 

You haven’t kissed, you haven’t said anything that should have led Peter to think that this is more than friendship, but it seemed like there could be something in the future. Apparently, you’re not even considering it.

“Who’s Andrew?” He asks, mouth dry and voice weak.

“Professor Garfield.”

“Oh. Well, I-I think that‘s illegal.”

“Is it though?” You tilt your head and give him a deliberately incredulous look.

“Yes.”

“Not if no one finds out. It’s don’t break the rules or don‘t get caught, Peter.”

He’s distracted by you saying his name for a moment. There’s nothing he loves hearing more.

But he has to stop you from doing… that. He can’t entirely tell how serious you are, but he has to make sure to convince you that it’s a bad idea.

“No offence, but what makes you believe you’ll be good enough for him to give you a better score? If you’ve never… you know, done anything like it.” He remembers your conversation from the first time you met, and if you haven’t given anyone a blowjob since then, he knows it would be your first time. Your first time can’t be with a professor, even if Peter disregards the fact that he wants to be the only guy you have sex with, it really is a bad idea.

“I’m a young and pretty student and he’s a kinda old guy. He’s like 40. So I’m sure that I’ll be enough for him.”

Peter doesn’t say anything for a moment, thrown off by your casual tone.

“Don’t you think so?” you press, teasing in your voice.

“No- of course you’re pretty. You’re beautiful,” he smiles, pressing his lips together. 

“Aww,” you sit up and press a kiss to his cheek, “So are you, Pete.” You hold on to his shoulder as you lower yourself into his lap, your butt right next to his thighs and your upper body resting on his legs, and his breath hitches. 

“Well if you think I need practice, then.. I could practise on you first.”

“Practise w-what on me?” He asks, feeling your hands on his abs.

“Going down on a guy,” you say, looking up at him. Now the feeling in Peter’s belly changes from raging jealousy into something else of equal passion. He’s thought about you doing that before, (and pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as it appeared) but hearing you suggest it makes a new flame of desire light up in him. 

The first conversation you ever had was about sex. But anytime you mention anything sexual, Peter doesn’t know how to act.

“I- I mean. I’m not- I feel like, maybe that’s not—”

“Don’t worry, I’m joking. I won’t actually suck that guy’s dick. I just don’t wanna do this stuff right now,” you sigh, sitting up and closing your textbook.

“How about we do something to distract you for the night, and then tomorrow I’ll help you with the next assignment,” he suggests, relief still flooding through his body, happy that you don’t actually want to suck your professor’s dick.

“You’d do that?” 

“Of course. I’ll always help you when I can but I especially owe you after you did my homework last week when I fell asleep.”

You sit up, “I told you it was no big deal. It was just multiple choice and all I did was copy my answers.”

“Yeah but if I hadn’t woken up then I would have missed the deadline and failed.”

“I know you’d do the same for me. And besides, you looked so peaceful sleeping. I couldn’t wake you up to do some boring computational linguistics quiz at eleven pm.”

Peter smiles at the memory of last week. When he’s with you, he doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to spend time with you. But he was tired and you were studying something Peter couldn’t help you with anyway, and he’s so comfortable around you that he just drifted off to sleep because he trusts you – he wouldn’t be okay with being unconscious next to just anyone.

“Well, it was still a very kind thing to do.”

Not sure what you’re doing yet, you go to your dorm room so you can change out of your sweats and into something prettier–even though Peter thinks you could wear sweatpants 24/7, and you’d still outshine everyone. He nearly stays outside but with a confused look you ask him what he’s doing outside and he reluctantly comes in.

Picking out an outfit, you pull off your shirt with no warning and even if he can only see your back an “Oh my God” leaves Peter’s mouth immediately, followed by a quiet, “Sorry,” as he turns around.

“Don’t worry. I’m just changing. It’s just my body, you can look.”

Despite your nonchalant words, Peter can hear your heart beating loudly and frantically in your chest. He tries not to let it get to him, it doesn’t have to mean that you like him. Maybe you’re just realising that you don’t want a boy to see you half-naked after all but you don’t want to say it now after confidently assuring him it was okay. 

Peter sits down on your bed, turned away from you even though it takes all the willpower he can muster.

A few moments later you jump onto the bed next to him, “So, what are we doing tonight?”

“Do?” He asks, still dazed from seeing your naked back, “Oh do, yeah. Uh yes, we can do something.” 

You giggle, looking at him expectantly. That’s when Peter remembers he was the one who suggested that you go out tonight.

“Oh-well yeah, I was thinking we could take a walk along the river, I heard they have these carnival booths up every Friday night.”

Going out in the evenings has become your and Peter’s thing. Sure, many people–especially college students–go out in the evening. But with you, it feels different. It feels special.

Illuminated by the streetlights and the LED glow from the booths, you and Peter play a few rounds of ring toss and throwing darts at balloons. You both swear it’s rigged because neither of you win anything.

You eat popcorn while Peter gets cotton candy and once again you hold Peter’s hand throughout most of your trip. It’s become a habit of yours, apparently meaningless as a romantic gesture, but platonically it means everything to Peter. You like him enough to constantly initiate physical touch; plus, he’s never seen you hold hands with any of your other friends.

Still, Peter is forever wishing for more. Sometimes he looks at you and wonders how he’s managed not to kiss you yet. But his fear grows with every day; the closer you get the harder it will be to confess his feelings because the risk of ruining something beautiful keeps getting bigger. 

He’s never been this attracted to anyone but he also thinks he’s never had a friendship as good as yours. He simply can’t risk something good, something beautiful, something that makes him as happy as he’s ever been. Your friendship is strong but he’s scared you wouldn’t be able to come back from Peter confessing his feelings for you and you not feeling the same.

It could weird you out, you could take pity on Peter and see him in a different light, or worst of all, you could think he’s been taking advantage of you. He’s never touched you anywhere that would be reserved only for a lover but you two are quite close. You’ve cuddled a few times, or just a few hours ago you were changing in front of him – he doesn’t want you thinking he intentionally got any sexual gratification out of it and for you to view him differently.

He already feels bad enough when nothing but the image of you clouds his thoughts whenever he jerks off. He can’t help it anymore. He used to be able to think of something else or simply watch porn but now that he’s with you so often and you’re so perfect, you’re like an intrusive thought; whenever he’s naked, there’s nothing on his mind but you, just like when a song is stuck in your head – there’s no easy way of getting rid of it.

Peter has never been one to feel shame after masturbating. But if you only liked him as a friend and ever found out what he thinks about when he’s fucking his fist late at night, he doesn’t even want to know what your opinion of him would change into. But the mental image of you alone makes Peter cum so hard, over and over, that he can’t stop, even if guilt plagues him right after as he cleans up the mess he’s made.

He looks down at your intertwined hands while you’re walking home across campus. He wonders what you’d do if you knew that the hand you’re holding right now jerks Peter off every night without fail, thinking precisely of how your hand could replace Peter’s.

On your way home, you walk past a frat house, the vibration of the music reaching Peter’s chest even from the outside.

“Shit, Chloe told me about this party. I forgot I said I’d be there.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s one of my friends from an Oceanography class. Do you mind if we go in? Just for half an hour.”

It’ll definitely distract Peter from thinking about you in a way that he’s not sure you’d be comfortable with.

You’re dragged away by some of your girlfriends as soon as you enter. They all say something about Peter but you quickly shrug off what they’re saying about you two always being together. He can’t tell if it’s a genuine no or just that feeling of embarrassment that you get when your friends tease you about your crush.

So your friends see it too? The indescribable chemistry between you two? Even with his enhanced hearing, he can’t hear the rest of your conversation because some of his own friends are urging him to go play beer pong with them.

Peter sees you every twenty minutes or so and you wave or smile at him and check up on him every time you walk past. Spending time with your other friends is good for both of you, but it’s also good to know that he’s still on your mind, just like you’re on his.

“Help me find the bathroom,” you tell Peter the next time you see him. He’s getting a little bored at this party so he assumes you also want to escape.

You walk into the bathroom together and Peter doesn’t realise that you actually just need to pee until he sees you contemplating on pulling your underwear down or not, “Can you wait outside?”

“Of course.”

Peter has no interest in being in the bathroom with you while you pee, but the fact that you nearly let him stay in there with you shows him once again how comfortable you are around him. He’s smiling like an idiot, standing by the wall opposite the bathroom until he hears your “You can come in.”

After you’ve washed your hands you sit on the edge of the bathtub and pat the space next to you for Peter to join you and you chat about whatever comes to your mind. So you did want a break from the party too, and Peter is glad to provide that.

“What song is that?” Peter asks. The music is loud enough for you to clearly hear it even upstairs in the bathroom.

“I don’t know, I’ll shazam it. You’re right, it sounds good.”

When you unlock your phone the screen is filled with the picture of a vibrator. You ignore it and go to Shazam the song, but Peter can’t let you off like that.

You always get to tease him so he smirks when he can finally get you back, “Wait wait wait,” he takes your phone from you, lifting it high in case you want to take it from him.

“What is this?” He asks, smiling, teasing you lovingly and in good fun but you look at him as if he’s talking about the most boring thing ever, not embarrassed in the slightest, but once more, that could be a good sign; another sign of your close relationship.

“Oh, it’s this vibrator. But it’s way too expensive for me.”

Peter licks his lips, trying not to freak out. He doesn’t know why he thought talking to you about a vibrator would be a good idea. But he tries to appear as calm as you, “Why is it expensive? What’s so special about it?”

“Well, it basically sucks your clit. But I don’t want to spend over 100 dollars on something like that when I can just go out and find a guy to suck my clit within like five minutes. It’s all those guys on campus think about, I swear. I’m glad you’re not like that, Pete” you smile at him and put your head on his shoulder, completely catching him off guard with your words.

He won’t be able to jerk off without thinking about you for days now; meaning he won’t be able to jerk off for days. Do you mean you’d hate knowing that Peter thinks about you sexually or do you just mean that there’s no pressure with Peter? And that any other male friend would have asked for sex by now?

Peter knows he’s not a perv, but he doesn’t know if you’d say the same if you knew you were the protagonist of his spank bank. 

“Wait, actually, a friend told me they’re way cheaper if you buy them in-store and they’ll have more to choose from... will you go with me?” You ask him with a big fake pout.

“To a.. a sex shop?”

“I don’t want to go alone. And you’re my best friend.”

He can’t say no to you after you call him that, even if having a constant reminder of what you use to masturbate is going to kill him.

“O-okay. But why can’t you just go with your friend?”

“I’m not as comfortable around her as I am around you. Unless you really don’t want to.”

“No no I’ll go,” he nods and you grin.

“I’m sure they’ll have something for you too,” you say with raised eyebrows. And even though his hand and the thoughts about you make him cum hard and fast enough that he doesn’t feel like he needs a sex toy, your words help him feel a little less guilty. You telling him to go buy a sex toy suggests that you’re not grossed out when thinking of him masturbating, so maybe you’d understand that he’s got to do what he’s got to do sometimes, and you actually wouldn’t completely hate him if you found out what goes on in Peter’s mind when he jerks off.

“But we’re not going before we finish our assignment.”

“Deal,” you shake his hand with a laugh and join your friends downstairs to play the last few rounds of drinking games before you go home.

You’re good, but the other team is better. 

You didn’t really want to drink tonight and are only playing for fun but Peter likes following the rules so someone has to have the drinks. You assure him he doesn’t have to but Peter downs all the drinks for you and the ones for himself, relying on his enhanced abilities to drink them like water. He has one drink and then five more and when you two leave the party he realises he’s drunk.

You insist on taking him to your room to make sure he’s okay but Peter is a funny drunk so he doesn’t feel too bad. If he gets to sleep in your bed he could never feel bad, and knowing you you would never offer if you weren’t okay with it.

“I like when you take care of me,” Peter smiles at you when you tuck him into bed and he takes your hand in his, “And I like when we hold hands.”

“I like it too,” you kiss his forehead and Peter practically swoons. You were holding his hand the whole way back home from the party, like one of those people keeping a toddler on a leash and he’ll probably be embarrassed tomorrow morning but right now he’s just grateful for the constant affection.

You seem no bit annoyed that you have to deal with a drunk Peter, you’re just spending time with your best friend (he hasn’t stopped thinking about you calling him that) who happens to be drunk.

“Will you need a bucket?” You ask as you pull down your skirt and leave on your cropped shirt.

“A what?” He asks, heart beating harder as he stares at your half-naked form.

“Do you think you’ll throw up?” You ask.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

When you walk over to the bed Peter sees everything in slow motion. You stand next to the bed for a few seconds, tapping on your phone, and Peter admires your beautiful body while he can.

“You know how much I love your legs? They look so good,” he says, and he can’t tell if he’s embarrassingly drunk right now or not. He just knows that your legs are perfect. You’re perfect. And that’s something his sober self would wholeheartedly agree with.

You smile and turn off the lights, leaving the window open so Peter can get some fresh air but it also leaves enough light for Peter to admire your legs some more.

“Scoot over,” you tell him and get in bed with him.

“No, you don’t understand how incredible your legs are.” He gets one last glance at them before you pull the blanket over your body.

“Thank you, Peter,” you smile, and he sees by the crinkles next to your eyes that it’s genuine and maybe you don’t hate him looking at your body as much as he’s been worrying you would.

You talk a little more but minutes later the conversation consists more of yawning than talking and Peter sobers up when he realises he will be sleeping next to you. It’s his first time sleeping in a woman’s bed, and he’s glad it’s yours.

He’s taken naps next to you and there was that one time you slept next to each other on the sofa, but this is different. You’re alone in your room, right next to each other, in one bed, sharing one blanket. He can feel the warmth of your half-naked body and before he knows it your familiar presence calms him down enough to fall asleep quickly.

*

When Peter wakes up next to you the following morning, it takes a few moments for it to all come back to him.

He knows there’s no way you slept with each other, Peter was kinda drunk, neither of you have even confessed any feelings and you wouldn’t have a one night stand the first time you have sex. 

But when he gently lifts the blanket, making sure he doesn’t wake you up, he’s met with the sight of your lovely belly and heavenly thighs, and Peter thinks from the outside it could look like you had sex. 

Not that anyone is going to see, but two hormonal college students, both half-naked, waking up next to each other.. It screams something obvious and that thing is not that you two are merely friends.

The thought of it alone makes Peter flustered and he shifts uncomfortably. His eyes widen when he realises that his morning wood is pushed right against your ass. He pulls his hips back as quickly as he can, waking you up in the process.

You’re facing away from him, and the first thing you notice is your and Peter’s interlaced hands. His cheeks warm up as he notices them too. His arm is resting above your head on the pillow, fingers next to your face where they’re loosely intertwined with yours.

He doesn’t remember waking up in the night, so you must have somehow ended up holding hands in your sleep, both finding your way to the other even while unconscious.

You squeeze his hand and twist your body to look at Peter’s face. “Hi,” you mumble, smiling sleepily.

“Hi,” Peter says, opening his mouth minimally just in case he has bad morning breath.

Your eyes flit across his face with a look he can’t decipher. “Goodnight,” you say a few seconds later and you lie back down in your tired daze, pushing against Peter and pulling his arm over your waist.

“Wait,” you turn around again, “Are you okay? Got a hangover or anything?”

“I’m good, thanks. Go back to sleep,” he smiles, partially because he knows you still need rest but also because he wants you to go back to sleep so he can take care of himself. It’s becoming painful how hard he is.

“Okay. But stay, you’re warm.”

He most definitely is warm, he knows he’s blushing like crazy.

You pull the blanket further up your body and scoot back against Peter, and the way your ass pushes against his crotch nearly makes him moan. He doesn't know how you're not noticing what's going on.

He scoots his hips back as far as he can and waits a few minutes until you’ve drifted off to sleep again. He carefully removes himself from you and goes to your bathroom. You have a bathtub, big enough for both of you, he thinks, with a showerhead on the wall.

Before he can even bring himself to care about the temperature, Peter turns on the water and pulls his clothes off in a hurry, wrapping a hand around himself before he’s even really in the shower.

He leans a hand against the wall, resting his head against it as his other hand speeds up, jerking himself off while he thinks about you in the other room. You, so pretty, so caring, so sexy in just your underwear and a short shirt. You, not knowing that Peter is about to cum in your shower, so close to you, thinking about you.

The water is only barely louder than the sound his hand makes against his cock, and he bites his lip to stop any moans from coming out.

Peter cums when he hears the squeaking of your bed; you’re getting up, you could walk in any second. While he cums, Peter’s mind wanders to you on your knees, his dick sliding in and out of your mouth as you look up at him with your gorgeous eyes.

He washes his cum off the bathroom tiles on the wall and tries to wash the guilty feeling off himself.

Suddenly the door opens slightly, “Hey can I come in? I won’t look, I just wanna brush my teeth.”

Peter makes sure to slide the shower door to the side so it’s covering him and he tells you to come in.

He peeks out of the shower and you smile at him through the mirror. He catches your eyes drifting lower but you can barely even make out the outline of Peter’s body through the frosted glass. 

Peter casts his own glance at you and how you’re still not wearing anything but panties and that short shirt. You stretch your arms, still trying to shake the tired feeling, and your shirt lifts so that Peter can already see the flesh of your tits. But you stop stretching just before your top lifts over your nipples and he quickly turns to look at the wall in the shower instead.

He quickly washes himself using your shower gel, maybe he’ll smell just like you now.

You hand Peter a towel just at the right moment and he wraps it around himself before stepping out of the shower.

“Wait, leave it on,” you tell him.

In his still horny brain a scenario plays out where you said that a few moments earlier and joined Peter in the shower.

This time you don’t tell him if it’s okay for him to look while you’re changing so he diverts his gaze before you slip out of your clothes.

You squeal when you get in the shower, “Peter, why is it so cold? What’s wrong with you?” 

He must not have realised how cold it was, but once he got into the shower he only cared about coming, and he blocked everything else out. By the time he was washing his body, he must have become used to the temperature already and didn’t notice.

Peter brushes his teeth with his second toothbrush that he’s got in your bathroom and quickly goes into your bedroom so he won’t be in the same room as you while you’re naked and he’s only got a towel wrapped around him.

You come out dressed in the clothes you took into the bathroom with you.

“Sorry that I used your shower,” Peter says, sitting on your bed with nothing but your towel.

“You’re welcome here whenever and welcome to use whatever, you know that. But showering that cold should be a crime,” you smile at him, “Should I get you some clothes?”

You go to Peter’s room to get clothes for him and he changes into them in your bathroom.

“I know it’s the weekend but can we get that assignment done today? I wanna go buy my vibrator soon,” you pout.

Peter forgot all about that. How is he supposed to study with you if he knows you’ll go out together to buy a sex toy after?

But somehow he manages. Well, you realise you can do it mostly by yourself once you properly start and Peter is only there for moral support (even though he’s the one who needs moral support; he doesn’t know how much longer he can pretend that he doesn’t have feelings for you, pretend that he didn’t just jerk off while thinking of you and pretend that it–by far–wasn’t the first time.)

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask Peter as you’re both on your way to buy your stupid vibrator that Peter would love to replace.

He doesn’t know what you’re talking about but your worried look tells him he looks exactly as nervous from the outside as he feels. He’s never been to a sex shop. Are they going to ID you? Are you going to meet someone you know? Is it going to be all dingy?

Normally, you’re like an anchor to Peter, your presence can make him feel comfortable in situations that would usually make him panic. But in this situation, you’re making him even antsier. Not in a way that he would describe as anxious but more like a, he’s scared he’ll get a boner any second. That’s always a risk when he’s with you but that risk quadruples when you’re going to a sex shop to buy a vibrator for yourself.

You stop Peter in his tracks and stand in front of him to wipe his sweaty forehead with your sleeve, his heart beating even faster now. “You know you don’t have to come in if it makes you that nervous. But it’s just a shop.”

“What? Yeah I’m fine, pff, like so fine. I’m just hot,” Peter says, watching your eyes go to the thick winter coat Peter is wearing. You’re wearing one too. Even in his jacket, Peter could do with a bit more warmth.

“Here,” you unzip his jacket, and even if it’s only to assist Peter with his stupid lie, you’re still undressing him. You’re not helping the boner risk decrease at all.

The shop is classy and clean and the employees leave you alone (unlike when you dragged Peter to Lush that one time and he was forced to try out bath bombs and oil that he didn’t know the purpose of).

Now he can tell you’re flustered too, just a little bit. Holding on to Peter’s arm the whole time, you find what you need, pay, and put your gloves on top of the packaged vibrator just in case anyone decides to look in your bag.

Even though it’s a Saturday afternoon, the shops aren’t busy so you go to look for some new clothes. Peter thinks you could wear a potato sack and you’d still look pretty, so he’s not the best judge when you come out of the dressing rooms to ask for his opinion on whatever clothes you’re trying on.

“This is so ugly, oh my god,” he hears you from inside the dressing room, laughing.

You pop your head out behind the curtain to make sure no one sees you as you show Peter a top that, yes–even on you, looks ugly. You still look gorgeous, that’s for sure, but even your perfect face and body can’t save the Shrek-coloured thing that is supposed to be a t-shirt.

“You know, you’re the only one who’s allowed to see me in something as ugly as this,” you say absentmindedly as you go back to try on something else and Peter’s heart beats faster at your words.

It might sound ridiculous to an outsider, but to Peter these little things mean the world.

He might not be able to tell if what you feel for him is platonic or more, but he knows you feel something for him. You feel a lot for him. He feels it every time you so much as look at him. 

With you, Peter feels loved.

The love you give him feels like it’s supposed to be for a lover, supposed to be for that one special person. And the lines between friendship and more are so blurry in your relationship that he can’t tell how much is spilling onto the romantic side already.

Peter contemplates paying for your new jeans but in the end, he’s too awkward (and too broke) in front of the cashier to interrupt when you get out your money. Besides things like cinema tickets, drinks and food, Peter has never paid for anything that you bought and it would feel very boyfriend-y.

You get food on your way home and by the time you’re in Peter’s room, it’s dark outside already. Peter was surprised that you even came to his room and when he keeps noticing you looking at the bag with your new toy in it, his assumption that you’d rather be doing something else now is confirmed.

You’ve been so casual when you talk about things like vibrators and getting off, but Peter has never had the courage to properly contribute anything to the conversation. But he decides to put on his big boy pants and before he can chicken out he nods towards his door and says, “Go on, try out your vibrator. I know you’re dying to.”

You give him a charming and apologetic smile, snatching your bag, ready to go. “I’d love to spend time with you, you know that but–”

“I know. But we have enough time for that tomorrow. Just don’t break your–” Don’t break what? Don’t break your pussy? Your clit? He’s never said any of those words out loud.

“I won’t,” you help him out and climb on the bed again to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Pancakes as always?”

“Pancakes as always,” Peter smiles, feeling himself blush, “Text me your review of the toy,” he says before you leave.

“I will,” you smile back at him, wave, and close the door.

Peter waits a few moments until he thinks you’ve arrived at your door. Are you going to throw yourself on your bed as soon as you get in? Shower first? Are you going to slowly take off all your clothes, caress your body to turn yourself on? Seduce yourself? Or are you going to push your pants down just a few inches and shove the vibrator between your legs?

Whatever you’re doing, thinking of any of those scenarios makes Peter hard immediately; that, and the tension from today that he can finally release.

He moves to the side of the bed that you were just lying on, and the sheets still smell like you.

Peter unbuckles his belt and pushes down his jeans, grabbing himself through his boxers and instantly feeling a sense of relief.

He imagines you lying in your bed, right now, two fingers between your legs. You’re so wet from being with Peter, the guy you’re into, all day, that your fingertips easily glide over your skin.

Peter shifts and runs his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum. The warm, familiar pressure is already building up in Peter’s body, and he slides his fist up and down himself faster.

In Peter’s mind, you’re spreading your lips now, holding the vibrator against your clit. You jolt at the first contact and smile, knowing you’re about to feel nothing but bliss.

Your body relaxes and you let the vibration take over completely, chasing your orgasm that’s so close after only a minute. You throw your head back when you cum, your eyebrows scrunched together. Your legs start shaking once you can’t take it anymore, but you press the vibrator to your clit during the last few aftershocks.

Peter cums at the same time as you do in his imagination. He’s spilling over his abs and his hands, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

He lies in his bed for a few more moments, sighing as he cleans up the mess he just made. He gets a message from you: Had a nice day btw :) Can’t wait to see you again tomorrow <3

He smiles and texts back, too exhausted to feel bad for what he just did.

Tomorrow will be the third day in a row that you’re spending time together and you’re showing no signs of getting tired of him. But at this rate, it seems like Peter will never know what being with you while you orgasm is actually like.

He can be patient, but he doesn’t know if he’s waiting for something that will never happen. 

He doesn’t even care about the sex, he just wants to hold your hand and know what it means, know that it means that you’re in a romantic relationship.

He’ll give you all the time you need, that’s all he can do. He simply can’t confess his feelings, he can plan on doing it and dream about it as much as he wants, but when he’s standing in front of you he can’t risk losing you.

Maybe one day he’ll be brave enough, and who knows, maybe you’re thinking the exact same thing right now, trying to be brave but you just can’t.

Maybe.

*

Peter knocks at your door the next day, ready to get pancakes like you always do on Sundays. There’s a lot of commotion behind the door and you take a while to open it.

“You’re early,” you say, hair messy and overall dishevelled.

“Am I? I don’t mind waiting,” Peter says.

“I’ve just quickly got to shower, you can go back to your room or wait here, whichever you want.”

“No problem, I’ll just wait here.” Peter feels as if that’s the wrong answer because you don’t exactly look thrilled that he’ll be in your room, but you still let him in with a small smile. He knows that you can’t be mad at him and by the time Peter’s on your bed and you're about to go to the bathroom, you’re giving him a genuine smile and say you won’t be long.

Peter gets out his phone as he hears you turning on the water and he drops to his back on your bed.

Just as he’s about to go on Instagram, he hears a quiet, mechanical whirring. He wouldn’t be able to pick up on it without his enhanced hearing.

He hears how you smack your hand over your mouth, but you’re not quick enough. Peter still heard a tiny moan.

So that’s why you didn’t want Peter coming in. You’ve probably been making yourself cum all night and you weren’t finished with the last round.

Peter sits up and tries to stick his fingers in his ears, but even if he can’t hear you anymore he’s still got the vivid image of you in his head, only a wall separating you two.

He stands up and looks for something to distract himself before he gets hard, but to make things even worse, Peter’s eyes land on a pair of panties next to your bed.

He feels like a perv as he picks them up. He can see your arousal still glistening in them, and it’s like they’re calling out Peter’s name.

He’s about to lift them to his face when he hears you turning off the water. Peter stuffs the panties into his jeans pocket quickly and out of reflex. He stiffly sits on your bed, unsure if he still has enough time to pull your underwear out of his pocket again and throw it under your bed. 

He’s too nervous to hear what you’re doing, his ears ringing, and before he can bring himself to quickly put your underwear back, you’re coming out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go.

With your innocent rambling about college he manages to calm down but you and your stupid vibrator are still on his mind. But it’s a good thing that you two can talk about stuff like that, so maybe he’ll get his mind off it once he asks you about it.

“So, is it good?” He asks you as you slide into the booth at the place you always go to for pancakes.

“Is what good?”

“Your, your vibrator thing? You didn’t send me a review,” he says.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you laugh, “It’s so good, oh my god. I’m so glad we don’t have roommates here cause I did it like six times last night. I get why people pay so much for it. I mean it’s supposed to simulate oral sex and I can’t imagine that it feels the same but I guess I’ll find out one day.”

“You always have me if you want to find out how it feels.”

He can only gather the courage to say that because of what you once said about sucking his dick for practice so you could suck Andrew’s dick for a better score. The only difference is that you turned out to be joking, but Peter is serious.

He probably sounds too serious too because you give him a questioning, “Huh?”

“Well- well I’m just saying if you wanna compare your toy to oral sex then I... you know... my tongue is available to you,” he says it exactly how it comes to his mind, unsure if he should make it sound more like a joke.

You laugh, declaring it a joke yourself, “Okay, thanks. You’re so cute.”

It’s not ideal but the fact that you’re not running away from him and gagging shows him that at least the thought of Peter going down on you doesn’t disgust you. The fact that you made a joke about going down on him first, even if that was weeks ago, gives Peter a tiny bit of hope that maybe his instinct has been right all this time. Maybe you do like him back and you just need a bit more time.

“Um, I heard that next week there’s going to be loads of shooting stars. I was thinking we could drive out of the city and go stargazing. I already asked James and he said we can take his car–the truck, it’s big enough for us to lie down in while we look at the sky, it’s going to be warmer next week too and–”

“I’d love to,” you grin.

He mirrors your smile immediately because it actually took a lot of convincing for Peter’s friend James to let Peter have his car. And more importantly, looking at the stars sounds very romantic. He wasn't sure if he should invite you to something so obviously romantic.

What if it makes you realise that Peter likes you and you distance yourself from him because you don’t feel the same?

What if you do feel the same, but you need your time and it’s too early for a date-like activity?

But what if... what if it’s just the right thing?

You hold hands, you’ve slept in a bed together, so Peter doubts you will be freaked out by stargazing. But Peter can already feel the butterflies just thinking about lying under the night sky with you, and what if you don’t?

But maybe Peter is ready for the risk after all. He’ll see if you’re enjoying yourself, try to see in your beautiful eyes if you’re as smitten as him. He's realised that he’ll have to try one day and now that you’ve agreed to his plan, it feels like this is the right timing, the right thing. Maybe he’ll even ask you how you feel, or make a comment about how romantic the situation is.

And if you and Peter belong together, then maybe it’s time for you. He certainly feels that he’s ready. He’s not expecting a kiss, he’s not expecting anything except the tiniest hint that a romantic night with Peter doesn’t leave you cold. That would be more than enough to keep him going for so many more months to come.

He can wait if you need time but he’s just one man and his passion for you burns so brightly inside him that he just needs something, no matter how small it is.

You two walk home, your bellies filled with pancakes and warmth from seeing your person. No matter if it’s platonic or romantic, Peter would be blind if he didn’t see that he makes you happy and how much you glow and grin and his presence. 

You hang out on campus for a bit more but you tell him you still need to study and you’ll see him tomorrow (he tries not to think about how you’re probably lying and are simply going to use your vibrator over and over).

Peter changes into sweats once he gets to his room and as he’s putting his jeans away he notices something pink peeking out of the pocket. Your panties. He completely forgot about them.

He carefully pulls them out, holding them like they’re a sacred treasure.

Making himself comfortable on his bed, he takes a deep breath before bringing your underwear up to his face.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting your arousal to smell like, not like this, but it’s even better. 

It smells heavenly, just like everything else about you.

He bunches your panties up in his hand and presses them against his face, inhaling your scent while he reaches a hand under his sweatpants and strokes himself. 

He’s been hard since he remembered he had your panties and he doesn’t even think about you making yourself wet, your smell alone has him coming undone within seconds.

He does it again before going to bed, this time wrapping the panties around his hand so he’s jerking himself off with them. He bites his t-shirt in an attempt to muffle his moans as the material slides up and down his cock.

He fucks his fist as hard and as fast as he can, his bed starting to squeak from the intensity of it.

Your wetness on your panties has long dried but the thought of your arousal so close to his dick has him–once again–reaching his orgasm pathetically fast. He sighs after he cums, examining the panties to make sure he pulled them away in time and there’s none of his cum on them.

He wants to save them for another time; as many times as they’ll still have your addicting smell on them.

He cleans the mess off himself, his cum ending up in a tissue that he throws into the trash can with all the other tissues. He’ll empty it before you come over the next time.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡

You’ve been driving for half an hour now, the city nothing but a few lights in the rearview mirror. 

You find a spot next to a field, not a soul to be seen anywhere near you. You get the blankets and snacks to make yourselves comfortable in the back of James’s pickup truck that Peter borrowed.

“Look,” you point towards the sky, but Peter misses the shooting star. He goes back to looking at your beautiful face, only to find your eyes already on him.

He feels your hand on the side of his face, pushing his head to face the sky again, “Look at the stars, not at me,” you say and he can hear the grin in your voice. You’re enjoying yourself, and that’s all that matters. You want him to enjoy himself too, not knowing that your face is so much more interesting to look at.

After a few moments of staring into the brightly lit sky–it never looks like this in the polluted city–he has to admit, the night sky isn’t bad either.

It only takes a few seconds until another shooting star races across the sky and you share an excited look, “Did you see that?” You ask.

“You’re supposed to make a wish,” Peter whispers, eyes closed as he wishes for a relationship with you.

You’re still looking at him when he opens his eyes, your gaze intense, eyes flitting across his face.

“Did you make a wish?” Peter asks. You nod and slowly divert your gaze towards the masterpiece of nature above you again.

He can’t shake the feeling that your wish also had something to do with him. Something romantic. He always overthinks and doubts himself but this is one thing he’s sure about.

But the moment is fleeting and Peter doesn’t find the words to say. You’re back to looking at the stars, and he doesn’t want to have to grab your face to kiss you.

He swallows down the disappointment and tries to enjoy the time with you, his dear friend. Not many people have a friendship like yours and at this moment he just tries to be grateful for that.

“Peter?” Your voice is quiet.

“Mhm?”

“I’m so glad we met,” you turn to your side, your whole body facing him now. He can hear the raw emotion in your voice, he thinks he can even see tears in your eyes. That’s what your shared love does to Peter too. He could cry just thinking about it.

“Me too,” he says, reaching for your hand, trying to bring the monstrosity of his feelings into words to let you know that nothing has made him as happy as meeting you, but the words won’t come out. 

“Our friendship means so much to me,” you say, and it stings. In this romantic moment, cuddled up beneath the stars, is that all Peter will ever be to you? A friend?

You continue, “I‘m sorry if I ruin it with what I‘m about to do.”

“What–”

You lean in and kiss Peter.

The world stops. Nothing matters, nothing but your lips on Peter’s. He always thought he’d be overcome with great excitement when you first kiss, an explosion of fireworks in his mind and his insides, but he feels at peace. It simply feels right.

“Did I just ruin our friendship?” You whisper, and it’s then that Peter realises that he barely kissed you back. He was too stunned to.

He puts his hands on your face and pulls you in, pressing his lips against yours over and over.

“You didn’t ruin our friendship, you turned it into something better, so much better. And you know that our friendship is hard to beat,” Peter says.

You let out a laugh of joy, “It is,” and you kiss him again, slinging your arms around his neck to pull him as close as you can.

Your lips are soft, so so soft, and even in the cold night, Peter feels warm because he has your body against his.

“Could you maybe uh… slap me?” Peter asks.

“Um, what?”

“Just so I know I’m not dreaming. Please.”

You pinch his cheek instead and you both smile. Peter’s not waking up. He’s already awake. It’s not a dream, this is actually happening.

The fireworks come after all, an explosion of happiness shooting through his chest when he realises that this is real.

He hugs you tight, as tight as he can without breaking you.

Peter’s heart drops when you pull away and tears stain your cheeks, “What-what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m just so happy.” Your voice breaks as more tears rush down your face but your eyes are full of happiness.

Tonight, Peter was hoping for a hint that maybe in the future you see something more than friendship between you two too. What he got was all of you. A confession of your feelings, a raw exposure of your deepest emotions, vulnerability. But you trust him. And he’s so glad you do. He’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and safe and comfortable. 

He starts crying too, just a few tears, either because he’s seeing you cry or because it’s the first time in his life that he’s ecstatic enough to experience happy tears—he’s been waiting for this for so long, unsure if it would ever even happen. All the doubt from the last months tumbles away – none of it matters anymore. You kissed him. 

“I really want to blow my nose but I don’t want to leave you,” Peter sniffles.

You look at him, “Go blow your nose, Peter.”

“Okay.”

“I have some tissues in my bag.”

You keep your hand on Peter’s leg while he reaches for your bag and half a minute later you’re reunited again with you lying in Peter’s arms.

You drove all the way to look at the stars but you can’t keep your eyes off each other, never going more than a minute without kissing. It takes a few more minutes for you to pretend that the stars are more interesting than Peter, and you straddle him once you decide you can’t go any longer without being as close to him as possible.

Peter wraps his arms around your waist, enjoying your weight on him. The kisses turn from pecks into something more, but it’s soft and unhurried. You’re taking your time with Peter, savouring the feel of him while Peter takes it all, takes all you give him.

Your wet mouths on each other is the only sound far and wide; even mother nature is quiet as you kiss Peter in the back of this truck, out in the country with no one else around.

You shift, your lips never leaving Peter’s, and start grinding against him, slowly.

He squeezes your waist harder as it becomes difficult to control himself. The only thing stopping him from ruining his pants is the fact that you’re both wearing jeans, so you’re narrowly missing Peter’s hardness, doing what feels good for you.

You stop abruptly with horror in your eyes and Peter strokes your back, “Everything okay? Why’d you stop?”

You look down, a bashful smile on your lips, “I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

Peter stops himself from groaning. He’s getting more turned on with every passing second.

“You don’t have to stop on my behalf.”

After two seconds of contemplation, you kiss Peter again, adjusting your position. You both gasp into each other’s mouths when you’ve perfectly aligned your bodies, and they start moving perfectly in tune with one another.

“I’ve been dreaming of having you on top of me for so long,” Peter says, hands now on your hips, feeling your every movement.

“And I’ve wanted to be on top of you.. for so long,” you’re distracted, pushing yourself up with your hands on Peter’s chest, your voice faltering as you hold in a moan.

Peter feels incredible – everything you do makes him feel incredible. 

So incredible that he doesn’t know how he hasn’t cum yet, but he’s trying so hard not to.

He nearly moans when you grab his hoodie harder and you whimper, “I’m so close.”

One hand is at your jeans, trying to undo the buttons but you can’t, too lost in pleasure.

“Peter, unbutton my jeans,” you say–or rather whimper, “Please.”

And even though he’s on the brink of coming, nothing matters more than your orgasm right now, so he quickly fumbles with the buttons and opens them, your hand disappearing down your pants immediately.

Peter grabs the backs of your thighs as you cum on top of him, your face more gorgeous than he could have ever imagined, so pretty and so vulnerable just for him. He cums at the same time as you, trying to hide it but his hips push up against yours nevertheless.

You let yourself fall to Peter’s side, hiking your leg up over his lap. Peter puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Did you uh..” you look up at him, half teasing him, half unsure if it even happened.

Peter drags a hand over his face, “Yeah… I.. came in my pants.”

“Oh,” you try not to laugh, “Sorry.”

He looks at you, “No, don’t apologise, that was one of the best moments of my life.”

You give him baby wipes from your bag while you pack the stuff and wait for him in the car. He reluctantly hands you the baby wipes when he gets in next to you, looking at your lap.

“What?” You ask.

“I’ve known how you smell for nearly a week now and I don’t know how much longer I can go without having a taste of you.” He’s thinking about your panties, safely stored in his room but they’ve lost even the last traces of your smell.

You follow Peter’s eyes towards your crotch and figure out what he’s talking about, “How… how do you know how I smell?” 

Shit. 

He forgot that you’re not supposed to know that. 

But maybe, subconsciously, he said it on purpose so he can get any secrets out before you two get serious. Or maybe he’s just a dumbass, but he’s trying to look at the bright side. He’s not capable of any negative feelings when you just kissed him.

“Peter?” You ask. You don’t sound mad, you’re just curious.

“I uh, I took a pair of underwear from your room,” he starts.

“The pink ones? I’ve been looking for them.”

“Yeah, they’re pink. And it was the day after you got that clit sucking toy thing so I kept imagining you using it and then the smell made it so much more real…” he says, head hanging low in shame. You still don’t sound mad or grossed out but you haven’t heard all of it yet.

“Go on.”

“I used your underwear to um… jerk off,” he doesn’t meet your eyes until he hears your next words.

“That’s kind of hot,” you bury a hand in his hair, looking at him like you want to eat him up.

“R-really? You’re not mad?”

You shake your head and lean over to kiss him and Peter feels his blush up to his ears.

“I do want my panties back though.”

He tells you you’ll get them back and starts the engine to drive back.

“Wait,” you say, “Didn’t you want a taste?”

He immediately stops the car and leans over. 

“I- well, I didn’t get a chance to get that wet but..”

“I’ll take anything,” Peter pleads.

You kiss his nose and unbutton your jeans, your fingers disappearing beneath them. He hears the wetness and is hard at once. And that’s when you didn’t have a chance to get that wet? You pull two glistening fingers out and bring them in front of his lips.

His cheeks heat up when he leans forward to take them into his mouth. 

He moans at the taste. Sweet yet tangy. He wants to bury his face in you immediately; but you seem tired and he’ll have plenty of opportunities to do that another time.

Peter pulls you close and kisses you, he’s not that good with words so he hopes his tongue in your mouth tells him how much he wants you. It doesn’t have to be now, he just wants you to know.

“I like you.” It slips out of Peter’s mouth when you pull away from the kiss but his words make you connect your lips to his again.

“I like you too,” you smile, nearly laughing because it should probably have been obvious to Peter as soon as you kissed him. Leaning back in your seat in content, you look at Peter with those beautiful eyes of yours. 

Those four little words could make him cry happy tears again but he pulls himself together when you turn on one of your favourite songs and he turns away when you use the baby wipes. 

Before he drives you two home, a thought pops into Peter’s head; a thought that he’s had time and time again and he has to make sure that you know exactly how he likes you.

“But I um… I want you to know that I really do like you, as a person, romantically. I– of course I enjoyed what just happened–you have no idea just how much–”

“I think it was obvious how much you enjoyed it, Peter,” you interrupt him with a teasing smile that makes him blush and stutter for a few seconds before he continues.

“So, while, of course, I’m into you sexually, the emotional and romantic part is so much more important to me, and I need you to know that. But I’ve had so many sexual thoughts about you and, now that I’ve told you that I had your underwear and everything–”

“So you feel bad that you’ve had sexual thoughts about me?” You sum it up and Peter closes his mouth and nods.

“Well, don’t. Peter, in the last month I’ve spent every minute away from you with my fingers between my legs, imagining–wishing they were yours. I’m glad I was not the only one, it’s nice to hear that you’ve been as affected as I’ve been.”

“Are you sure? Because I remember that time when you said how all guys on campus just think with their dicks and how I’m different from them but I’m really not that different. If I’m not thinking about hugging you or thinking about your smile, then I’m always thinking about getting in your pants. And that is a lot of the time. And I’m sure that, even if you’ve thought about me in that way too, I’ve thought about you way more and I just need to know if you think I’m a perv or something.”

“Peter, hey,” you cup his cheek, “I don’t think that. And you don’t think with your dick. You just said you’ve wanted me for months and you didn’t even kiss me. You’re the opposite of those guys that have nothing but sex on their minds so that they can’t even think straight and ruin friendships with girls. You didn’t do that. You thought about my and your feelings and about our connection rather than getting in my pants.”

“But I did think a lot about getting into your pants,” he sighs.

“I thought about you getting into my pants too. That’s fine. That’s the beauty of liking someone, there’s not just the romantic side but also the sexual side. But you didn’t let the sexual side control you and you cared about my feelings first and foremost. Don’t feel bad for thinking about having sex with me, I’m glad you do. But you do so much more than that. You’re nothing like those guys.”

“I’m not like the other guys?” Peter laughs and then kisses you. (He still can’t believe he’s been kissing you all night). You shake your head, reassuring him.

Hearing you say that helps him immensely. He never felt bad about imagining what having sex with you would be like. It was the fact that it was without your knowledge and he had no idea if you’d be grossed and creeped out if you knew about it because you only saw him as a friend. He was scared of making you uncomfortable if you ever found out.

But you’ve found out now and you’re not just saying that it’s okay for him to think about that, but that you have thoughts about it too. (And now his thoughts are going to be even better, knowing that you might be thinking the same thing as him and his fantasies might turn into more than just fantasies).

The journey back has both of you smiling; what just happened still seems unreal, but every shared grin reminds Peter that it really did happen.

It breaks Peter’s heart when he delivers you back to your room, but he can tell you need sleep and he’s not exactly wide awake either. You kiss him like you mean it and you don’t pull away until you’re breathless.

When he gets to his room, Peter quickly puts your panties in his laundry basket so he won’t forget, and then he throws himself onto his bed and squeals loudly. He doesn’t care if anyone hears, he’s happy and he doesn’t mind if people know.

He gets a message from his next-door neighbour Brian:

Bro, you okay?

I heard a weird noise

He texts back: Y/n kissed me :)))))

Brian: About time, happy for you!

Peter considers going over to talk to his friend and tell him all about tonight. He’s tired but there’s no way he’ll sleep now anyway.

He then gets a phone call from you, and he picks up immediately.

“Peter?”

His face drops at your unsure voice. Did you change your mind?

“Yeah?”

“Did… did that really happen?” He thinks he can hear something positive in your voice but it’s hard to tell over the phone.

“It did.”

“Oh,” you say, “Good. I’m having a hard time believing it actually happened. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

He smiles again immediately, “Trust me, it hasn’t fully sunken in yet for me either.”

“Do you maybe wanna come over?” You ask, “I know it’s late but it’s the weekend so..”

He jumps to his feet and sets off instantly, “I don’t know why we didn’t think of that before.”

You giggle, “Me neither. I guess I was tired, but I’ll just be thinking about you all night anyway.”

You stay on the phone with him until he’s at your door, pulling him in for a kiss before he’s even in your room.

You push Peter onto the bed, lie on top of him, and hug him so tight that he can barely breathe. This would be the best way to go.

You’re both exhausted yet excited and interrupt each other with a kiss every few minutes while you’re talking about anything that comes to your mind.

“How long have you liked me?” You ask.

Peter smiles as he thinks back to the first time you met, “You made me nervous from the start because you’re so pretty, and then we talked about such personal things the first time we met. But I didn’t realise just how attracted to you I was until class a few days later when you were laughing about Professor Garfield’s jokes and talking about his ass.”

You pout and cup Peter’s cheek, “And then later I even made that joke about sucking his dick for a better score. Aw no, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, “You just came on top of me and not him.”

You hide your face in his neck at the reminder that you just nearly had sex with Peter outside. His hand rubs over your back as if he’s not blushing at the thought of it.

“When did you start liking me?” He asks and you lift your head again.

“I thought you were cute the first time I saw you and then when we talked in the kitchen I knew I’d have to keep you because I immediately felt comfortable around you. And then… I don’t know. You just did your thing. And then my heart did its thing too.”

“I’m glad my charm worked on you.”

“It worked wonders,” you push yourself up on your hands and kiss Peter again, staying on top of him for a while until his lips feel sore.

“But regardless of this romantic… and sexual side,” you shyly smile at each other, “I meant what I said. Our friendship means a lot to me. And I’m glad we became friends before anything else.”

“Me too.”

He knows what you mean. Being friends allowed you two to get comfortable around each other first without any pressure to do things to make you attractive to the other person. Now you have a solid base of trust and you know each other; you don’t have to worry about only showing your best sides like other couples do in the beginning stages. You know each other inside out, (except for the fact that you’ve liked each other for a while — but that’s different), the good, the bad, the ugly – yet you’re still choosing each other. Happily so. 

You both lie on your sides, Peter’s hand reaching over to rest on your hip. He can’t help but smile the whole time.

“Were you planning to kiss me? Or was it spontaneous?”

“I’ve been thinking about how it would feel to kiss you for months now, but for some reason it never occurred to me to make the first move. I was pretty sure you like me but the time went on and you didn’t make a move and I got scared that I’d ruin our friendship if I totally misinterpreted everything and you didn’t like me back. 

“And I would have never forgiven myself for that. But when we were lying in the back of that truck, underneath the stars, I don’t know, it was so romantic and you were looking at me with so much adoration that there’s no way I wouldn’t have kissed you. My heart was leading me, I only gathered the courage because my body did what it knew I had to do, I was not in control at that moment, but I guess sometimes it’s good to give up control. But it was definitely spontaneous.”

Peter leans down so his face is right in front of your chest and he whispers, “Thank you, heart,” to which he hears your gorgeous laugh. Your whole body moves with your giggles, pushing your chest even closer to his face. It takes a second for him to get the willpower to pull his face away again.

You connect your lips to his a few more times, Peter’s heart fluttering with every passing second.

“Just so you know, I have liked you all this time, you were right. But I felt the same as you and you’re the most important person to me so I didn’t want to take even the slightest risk when it came to us. There were times when I thought our friendship would even survive me confessing my feelings and you not feeling the same, but by not telling you there was always the hope that you did like me. 

“But if I told you and you didn’t feel the same, even if our friendship survived, it wouldn’t have mattered because it would have broken my heart into a million pieces. And I couldn’t put myself through that-”

“I’d never do that. I’ll take good care of your heart, Peter.”

“I know you will.”

You share a small kiss, Peter intertwining your hands.

“Okay, looking back, I probably should have known that you like me as more than a friend. Your love for my legs gave it away, but at the time I didn’t realise-”

“How do you know that I love your legs?” Peter asks as he turns red, looking at your thighs and resisting the urge to put his hand on one of them.

“When you were drunk, you told me how much you love them. You were basically drooling because of them.”

“Oh.. I don’t remember that. But I do love them.”

“I know,” you smile as you place one of his hands on your thigh and he squeezes the flesh.

You lie next to each other for a while, breath evening out and Peter thinks you’ve fallen asleep until he hears your voice, “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I still can‘t believe that this is actually happening. It‘s like when you‘re at a concert and you don‘t realise that you‘re seeing your favourite artist live and in person, and afterwards you still haven’t realised, and you never really get how lucky you were.”

Peter turns to his side to face you, his tired brain taking a while to answer, but he’s satisfied with what he says, “But a concert only happens once, and we‘ll be together forev— a long time. And longterm. We have plenty of time to realise that it‘s real. Maybe we‘ll realise if you kiss me again.”

You grin immediately and lean in to connect your mouth to Peter’s.

He understands what you’re saying, he can’t quite believe it either. It’s been too long for it to be a dream, he knows that it’s real, but it’ll take a few days for him to realise that he really is the luckiest person on earth. 

He’s grateful that you two have something so beautiful that it nearly feels impossible.

You touch each other for a bit, not sexually, you’re just touching each other’s skin, realising more and more that this is reality.

You lazily make out for a few more minutes until Peter drifts off into the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had, with you in his arms.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡ 

It’s been a few weeks since that one eventful night and you’re spending even more time with each other than before. Making out with you has become Peter’s new hobby.

He loves that you’re experiencing all your sexual firsts together. You haven’t actually done anything more than kiss since the night under the stars, and he’s more than happy to be patient if you need it but he’s looking forward to more.

“Is it okay if we don’t go all the way yet?” You ask him while you’re both hydrating and eating fruit between makeout sessions, “I definitely want to soon, but maybe not… not yet.”

Peter pulls you on top of his lap and holds you, “We established that the very first time we met, didn’t we? Of course it’s okay if we wait.”

“Okay,” you kiss him, “I don’t mean that we can’t do anything though.”

Peter licks his lips when he realises you’re planning something. You push Peter’s chest so he lies on his back and you slot your hips over his. His eyes flutter shut when he feels your mouth on the special spot on his neck and you slowly start grinding on him.

He grabs your hips and opens his eyes again when you stop kissing him to focus on that sweet place between your legs rubbing against Peter.

You stop when your eyes meet, “You have to close your eyes.”

“I wanna see you though.”

“It’s different from the first time, we’re not out during the night. And the position’s uncomfortable.”

“Then let’s change it.”

He’s already hard and if you continue like that he won’t take much longer; but your pleasure is more important to him so he pulls his sweat shorts further up his leg and lifts you onto his thigh. 

Your eyes go down and you realise what he wants you to do, “But you–”

“Shh, this is about you right now, okay? And I’ll cum as soon as you do anyway so don’t worry about me. This okay?”

He sees how his words give you confidence and you nod, letting yourself fully sit down on his thigh. Peter knew he liked your pretty skirt for more than aesthetic reasons because the only thing between your warm pussy and Peter’s skin is your underwear. He could cum from the feeling of your wet heat through your panties alone, but he tries to focus on making you breathless with his kisses once you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face close.

He holds you as you rock yourself on his thigh, becoming surer in your movements after a while, finding what feels best for you. Peter instinctively flexes the muscles in his thigh when you change your position slightly, and your little gasp tells him to continue doing it.

Your wetness slowly but surely drenches your panties and reaches Peter’s skin. You grab his shirt hard and bury your other hand in his hair, pulling. Peter tries bouncing his leg up and down and is rewarded with the sweetest moan coming from your mouth, followed by a gasp and a whispered: “I’m gonna cum.”

Your legs get weaker while you’re coming but, through his own approaching orgasm, Peter pushes your hips in whatever direction you want them to go and together you try to savour your highs for as long as possible. 

Out of breath, you’re still holding onto Peter tightly. As your hand in his hair slowly lets go, you press a kiss to his head, your hand on his shirt easing too as you smooth down the material.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You ask carefully but Peter shakes his head and purses his lips for you to give him a kiss, and you smile when you do.

“Oh, wait did you really cum?” You’re glancing down at the wet spot on his pants but your eyes widen when you get off him and realise how much you leaked onto his thigh yourself.

“I don’t know how I couldn’t cum when I have the prettiest, sexiest woman in the world having an orgasm on my lap.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, hiding your face from him while your cheeks heat up. You get off him and he goes to the bathroom to clean up.

You’re absentmindedly biting your lip when Peter comes back and he pulls you out of your daydream with a kiss.

“Do you wanna eat my pussy?”

Peter freezes for a second and then jumps onto the bed. You laugh, “Wait, I need a break first.”

“Okay,” he sits down next to you and swallows. He’s hard already just from the thought of going down on you. He couldn’t be happier that you want him to do it, he’s had daydreams (well, he’s mostly thought about it during nighttime) about it so many times.

“Do you want me to give you a massage?” He asks. It’s something you’ve done for him countless times and he doesn’t return the favour as often as he’d want to because your massages are heavenly and he can barely get up after.

“Yes please,” you lie down on your stomach, “But don’t stand on me.” You both chuckle.

Your massages consist of kneeling or standing on Peter’s back. It sounds painful but to him it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. He doesn’t just like your weight on his lap, he likes you on top of him in various scenarios.

He’s kneading your shoulders for about a minute when you suddenly sit up, “Okay, the break is over, can you eat me out now?”

A smile spreads over Peter’s face and you kiss him, a similar expression on your lips.

You get comfortable on your back and pull your shirt over your head and slip out of your skirt.

Peter sits between your legs, speechless, thumb rubbing over the large wet spot on your panties. You gasp when he touches you there but Peter can’t continue before showing you how much he loves your tits first. They're perfect.

He kisses his way up your stomach, inching further up until your nipple is in his mouth and your hand goes into his hair. He gets lost in the feeling of one of your boobs in his hand and the other one against his tongue until you push his head away.

He worries he’s hurt you but you whimper and spread your legs, pulling them up against your chest, “Please,” is all you can manage to say. Peter’s hands wander down your sides and between your legs, his fingers gliding over your panties.

Peter drags your underwear down your legs slowly, a string of your arousal staying connected to your panties momentarily. He licks his lips and kneels in front of the bed, pulling you to the edge of the mattress.

With your legs on his shoulders, Peter kisses your clit once, watching as your eyes flutter shut. He’s forgetting that this is your first time too, so your expectations probably aren’t too high. And you’re wet from your earlier orgasm and it seems to be doing wonders for you; you already start arching your back when Peter licks up and down your clit a few times.

He savours the taste of you on his tongue, sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted, and knowing that he’s tasting you because you’re wet for him makes things even better.

As he plays with your clit, his tongue in your pussy, he puts a hand on your stomach. It’s just because he doesn’t know where else to put his hand, but you grab some of his fingers, holding his hand and Peter’s convinced his eyes must be shaped like hearts right now. He’s always loved holding hands with you.

He makes out with your pussy, your juices all over his mouth, and he starts sucking your clit.

“Peter..” your voice comes out as a whimper and you grip his hand harder. You arch further into him and your eyes squeeze shut, and Peter can tell you’re coming – on his tongue, with his face between your legs, just like he’s imagined so many times but it’s so much better than what he ever could have wished for.

He only pulls his mouth away from you slowly, not wanting the moment to end. You don’t let go of his hand, instead using your intertwined fingers to pull him up so Peter can kiss you. 

You hug him like you never want to let him go again and Peter gladly complies. He wraps his arms around you and lies on top of you for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m too tired to return the favour,” you say after a while.

“That’s okay. I just wanted to make you feel good.” 

He’s glad you said it because then you won’t need to find out that he came in his pants ages ago, yet again, and you don’t need to be reminded of what a loser your boyfriend can be and how you’re the opposite.

Peter lifts his head so you’re looking at each other, and you cup his cheeks to kiss him on the lips a few times.

“I’m getting cold,” you say.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

You smile and kiss his forehead, “I should get dressed. And I need to pee. But you can cuddle me again after.” Peter gets up and scoops you up in his arms, earning a squeal from you.

He carries you to the bathroom and even though he’s completely dressed and you’re naked and vulnerable, he can tell you’re content and comfortable by the way you drop your head to his shoulder and let him hold you.

You’re in the bathroom while gets the clothes you asked him to get from your room, but he changes first so he’s not walking around the student accommodation with a mess in his pants.

You’re sitting on the bed in all your naked glory when he gets back. He stares for a second, smiling softly as he realises how lucky he is to get to see you like this, that he’s the only one in the world who does and that you want him to see you like this.

It’s later in the night and you’re in bed, you sitting on top of Peter, kissing him. It’s not sexual; you’re enjoying each other’s company, touching each other, locking lips over and over and over. Peter couldn’t be happier. There’s a smile on his face the whole time.

“I like kissing you. Like a lot,” you say.

“I love kissing you.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna be my boy—”

“Girlfriend? Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He interrupts you, somewhat surprised.

You grin and throw your arms around him, “Yes.”

“Sorry, I wanted to say it. After you made the first move I wanted to do this.”

“Everything okay?” You ask, realising he’s not telling you everything simply by looking at him.

“Well I don’t know, I kind of thought we were together already,” he says and your face softens.

“Oh. I mean we may as well have been. But we never properly talked about it. And just now I realised how sad I was that I couldn't officially call you my boyfriend, so I wanted to make sure that I could.”

“You’re right, now we have talked about it. And now it’s official. The most beautiful woman in the world is officially my girlfriend,” he beams as he cups your cheek and kisses you again. 

You lie down next to him, his arm around you as you cuddle into his side.

After a few moments of looking at Peter, you start giggling, as if you just remembered something funny or embarrassing about him.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing just, I’m so into you, and you really weren’t sure if I liked you? I know we‘ve talked about how we were both too scared to ruin the friendship but we were both idiots. 

“I mean, I tried to give you the boldest, most obvious signs. I kept holding your hand, talked about me getting off. I changed in front of you, slept next to you half-naked? Peter, I said I’d suck your dick.”

“Yeah but it was only in relation to you sucking professor Garfield’s dick for a better mark.”

“Knowing me, do you think I’d really suck a professor’s dick to get a better score?”

He shrugs, “Well, not when you say it like that, no. But we didn’t know each other that well yet. And hearing the girl you like say she’ll suck another guy’s dick isn’t nice regardless of if she’s being serious or not.”

You pout and cup his face, kissing him a few times, “I only want your dick, promise.”

“And my dick only wants you,” he says, earning a small laugh from you.

“But seriously, I contemplated peeing while you were in the bathroom with me at that party. If there was an obvious sign that I liked you, it would be that,” you joke.

“Just so you know, you can pee in front of me. And as long as you’re okay with that, I’d also feel comfortable peeing in front of you.”

You scrunch up your face, “We’ll avoid it if we can.” You both laugh but you know it would be no big deal and you’d be comfortable with it. It sounds like a weird thing to bond over, but Peter thinks it’s sweet.

“Anyway, I know I brought it up but can we stop talking about peeing so you can go down on me again?”

Peter’s eyes light up, “Yes, yesyesyes,” and he starts kissing down your body.

*

“So,” Peter asks you a few days later, “You know how you said your sex toy is supposed to feel like oral sex? So who’s better? Me or the vibrator?”

You give him an exaggerated pout and scoot closer to him on the bed, ”Don’t make me hurt your feelings.”

You’ve just come back from a date Peter planned. You got take-out from your favourite restaurant and ate it next to the river that goes through the city. You walked for hours, holding hands, talking, getting ice cream and just being with each other.

While Peter loves going out with you, he’s not sure if anything can beat spending time alone with you, in your bed, utterly comfortable and being nothing but yourself. Not to mention that you two can have sex whenever you want to.

“I don’t mind if you say it’s the vibrator, I mean it’s made for making you feel good and I’m just some guy,” Peter says, “It’s literally called a clit-sucker.”

“Sex with you is better but if you’re comparing the toy with you sucking my clit, then the vibrator is better, yes,” you move to his lap and put your arms on his shoulders, linking your hands behind his head.

“Can I use it on you?”

You bite your lip when he says it, “There’s not much you can do, you just hold it against my clit.”

“I’d love to do that.”

You grin and start kissing him.

He flips you around so you’re under him. He slowly takes off all your clothes and you pull off his shirt. He can’t resist getting a taste of you before he starts, humming as he begins eating you out, tongue in your pussy and his thumb on your clit.

You whine when he stops but you both remember that you wanted to use your toy. He kisses his way up your body, your arousal on his lips.

“You’re so hot, I don’t know if I deserve you,” he whispers into your skin as he’s kissing your belly. You tug him up to you to kiss him with such intensity that tells him he deserves you, all of you. You’re made for each other. And you feel it too.

You reach into your bedside drawer and pull out your vibrator. Peter smiles as he spreads your legs and lies down between them.

“Like this?” He turns it on and you adjust the setting, lying back when Peter presses a kiss on your clit and places the toy on your pussy.

You put your hand over his, shifting it so it’s in the perfect place. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and rests his cheek against your other thigh, occasionally kissing the skin there. He brings his arm over your body, smoothing his hand over your tummy and grabbing one of your tits, playing with your nipple.

Your hands absentmindedly find his hair, burying your fingers in it as he tells you how pretty you are and how he wants you to cum.

You glance at Peter between your legs, smiling and laying your head back down on the pillow. A few moments later he notices your breathing changing and how your hips slightly buck up.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, your back arching, and Peter puts his hand over your lower belly to keep you down. Your hand tightens in his hair as frantic breaths and strangled sounds leave your mouth, not able to form any coherent sentence.

After a few seconds, Peter wants to pull the toy away, thinking you’re done, but you hold his hand in place until your legs shake and he feels your belly convulsing under his hand. You’re coming until your head drops to the side and you let go of both his hair and his hand so he pulls away the vibrator.

“Oh–God. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Sorry if I hurt you,” your hand goes through his hair once more but he kisses your hand instead, “Don’t worry.”

You let your head fall back, your eyes not leaving Peter. The way you’re looking at him is nearly enough to make him cum right then and there, but he takes your hand and kisses you instead.

You wrap your legs around Peter’s waist and pull him as close as you can, “Can we go all the way? I feel so empty, I need you inside of me.”

Peter gulps at your words, pulling his hips away from yours so he doesn’t finish before you’ve even started. “Are you sure? Last week you said you wanted to wait.”

“Yeah, I am. I thought it would take me longer to be comfortable around you when I’m naked but I feel so good, and I like being naked in front of you. I like how you look at me and how it makes me feel,” you smile softly and kiss him.

“I like having you naked in front of me too.”

“I know, that’s why I’m so comfortable. And the fact that I want this so quickly shows me that it’s the right thing and also I just really really need you inside of me.”

“Oh my god,” he whispers, closing his eyes to refocus, “I have to get the condoms.”

“Make sure to hide this first,” your hands go to the front of his sweatpants and he playfully narrows his eyes at you because you know exactly that what you’re doing is not helping his situation.

After another kiss from you, he manages to pull himself away from you and hides his hardness as well as he can. He slips back into his shirt and runs to his room to get the condoms you two bought the other week just so you’d have them.

When he comes back you already have your fingers between your legs, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologise, baby,” Peter says before taking off his clothes in record time and joining you on the bed. 

You make out for a few minutes, forgetting everything else. His fingers wander to your pussy, playing with your clit until you can’t keep kissing him anymore, distracted by the pleasure.

He slips one finger into your pussy first, then two.

“Peter, it’s not enough,” you moan with a desperation in your voice that makes him even harder which, up to this point, felt impossible.

“‘M just checking you can take it, get you used to having something inside of you.”

You sigh into his mouth and give him the dirtiest kiss you ever have. “Just so you know.. I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he warns you, afraid of disappointing you.

“I don’t care, I just need you right now.”

“What if I cum immediately once I’m in you?”

You hold his face in your hands, “Fuck, Pete, that’s so hot. I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Don’t say that because I will.”

“Please, please, I’m ready,” you whisper.

“Wait, you mean with a condom right?”

You laugh and nod, kissing him on the nose.

“Okay, just checking,” he says, putting on the condom. 

You hold on to his neck as he lines himself up with you, feeling how wet you are. He pushes into you slowly, making sure you’re okay once he’s inside of you completely, “You okay?”

“Yeah, it feels even bigger inside of me.”

He blushes at you calling his dick big and runs a hand down your cheek, “Should I pull out?”

“No, no. Just give me a second.” 

You both take deep breaths once Peter starts rubbing your clit – you because you’re relaxing, Peter because he’s about to cum if he doesn’t focus.

He has you coming around his dick quickly. You press your chest against Peter’s when your back arches from the pleasure and you kiss the side of his face when you’re coming down from the high.

“Lift me up,” you tell him and you end up pushing Peter down on the bed, straddling his lap.

You place your hands on either side of Peter’s head, leaving him with your tits right in his face. You tell him to fuck you and with his hands on your hips, Peter slowly thrusts into you from below.

Your pussy squeezes him so tight, and you’re so warm, “Fuck, you feel so so good,” he groans. 

You start bouncing on him, meeting his thrusts halfway, now more used to him inside of you.

He closes his eyes, trying to think of something else but your quiet moans and your earlier words about wanting him to cum in you make him orgasm after a few more seconds.

He fucks you until he’s too exhausted to move and you grin down at him, both of you lying down to cuddle. 

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, both exhausted and content, only grinning at each other and occasionally giving the other a lazy kiss before you sit up on him again, your nipples right in front of his mouth.

He takes the opportunity to run his tongue around one, but you lean back, dazed, “No, no, you’ll make me horny again,” you smile, “And I don’t think I can take another orgasm right now.”

He kisses your sternum instead and picks you up in his arms so you can take a shower together.

Peter washes your body for you, taking his time to massage every part of you for a few seconds. He wants to spoil and pamper you and take as much work off your hands as he can. He knows you’d do the same for him.

Once you’re both clean, you stand under the water for a while, Peter’s arms around your waist, your back pulled to his chest. Your breathing is calm and your eyes are closed, completely relaxed against Peter.

“I came in here once,” Peter interrupts the silence.

You slowly open your eyes and turn around to face him, a smile making its way onto your face before it turns into a laugh, “What?”

“It was after that night when I got really drunk. I woke up with this perfect ass right against my crotch,” he squeezes one of your ass cheeks for emphasis. 

“You mean back when we were just friends?” You ask, pulling his arms around your body again, “That feels so long ago.”

“And at the same time like it was yesterday.” “Yeah,” you smile, “I probably would have helped you out if you’d asked.”

“Really?”

“I was already into you then and there’s no way I would have been able to–or wanted to–resist if I found out you were horny because of me. I was coming on my vibrator three times a day wishing it was you instead.”

Peter runs a hand over his face, remembering how scared he was that you’d never like him back, “I was wishing it was me too. I heard you that one time, when you were masturbating while I was waiting for you in there,” he nods his head towards the door to your room.

“You can’t blame me, you saw how that thing makes me cum,” you lean your head on his shoulder, hiding your embarrassment.

The moment you look down and see that Peter’s hard again, he stiffens even more.

“You’re getting harder from me looking at your dick?” You ask, licking your lips.

He nods, putting a hand around the back of your neck and gently pulling you towards him, kissing you to distract you from the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

While your teeth tug at Peter’s bottom lip, your hands smooth down his chest, over his faint happy trail and eventually you wrap your hand around his cock. He gasps at the first contact and opens his eyes, meeting your lust-filled gaze, “I can’t believe I haven’t done this before,” you say, starting to jerk him off with a slightly unsure look on your face.

“Is this okay?” You ask and Peter nods, “Show me how you do it,” you urge, lifting Peter’s hand to wrap it around your own.

With a firm grip, Peter guides your hand, “F-fuck,” is all he can manage to get out apart from a shaky breath. Your free hand runs across his chest, occasionally rubbing over his nipples, making him gasp. 

“I really need you to cum for me right now,” you whisper, looking down at your hand sliding up and down his dick. Your words make him groan and before he can prepare, waves of pleasure flow through him, his cum splashing all over your tummy. He can’t stop coming, especially not when you angle his cock further towards you, your belly now covered in him.

“Fuck,” you both moan at the same time and then you smile at each other. You step away from the spray of the shower, sliding a finger across your skin and sucking it into your mouth.

If he hadn’t already cum three times today, Peter would be hard in half a second. He shakes his head in disbelief, not sure what he did to ever deserve a girlfriend as sexy as you. He runs his thumb over your belly, picking up the rest of his cum on you and you open your mouth before he even asks you to.

He pushes it into your mouth slowly and you hum as he does it. Grabbing your face right after, he kisses you until neither of you can breathe. “Can I eat you out again now?”

You grin immediately, “Yes, but I’m tired.”

After you’ve dried off, he carries you to your bed, making sure you’re comfortable on it before his mouth disappears between your legs. He’s proud of how you grip his hair, grinding your pussy against his face and how you cum on his tongue.

He gets a notification on his phone just as he’s done kissing you after he made you cum. He ordered some food before you two went in the shower and it’s about to arrive.

“Go and get it, I can wait,” you tell him, but he makes sure to kiss your forehead and give you water and baby wipes before pulling on some clothes and rushing downstairs to get the food.

You eat it on your bed with a towel laid down to make sure nothing gets dirty. Peter likes how you randomly grab his hand while you’re eating or asking him to pass you your drink.

With some quiet music playing, you make yourselves comfortable in your bed, cuddling.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at him like he’s responsible for all good in the world.

“For what?”

“For everything. For taking care of me. For being you,” you slide your fingers between his. He picks up your intertwined hands and kisses yours, “It’s my pleasure. Thank you for being you, and for being with me.”

“There’s no one in the world I’d rather be with,” you lean over to kiss him, leaving your lips on his for a few seconds. “This white shirt looks so good on you, it’s my favourite,” you tell him, smoothing down the material and then resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you tight, “You know what looks even better on me?”

“Me?” You ask, already knowing what Peter is going to say and he adores you for it.

“Yes,” he smiles, “You.”

“I like this position, I like hearing your heart beating so clearly,” you say, nuzzling up against him.

“And I like that I can feel a heartbeat as soon as I put my hand here,” Peter smirks, sliding a hand between your legs and immediately feeling the pulsating warmth, even through your panties.

“Don’t blame me for getting turned on when the man I love touches my pussy,” you say, grabbing Peter’s hand into yours and away from your underwear to stop you from getting horny.

It takes both of you a second to realise that you just said that you love him. Probably because you’ve both felt it for a while; first as friends, then as lovers. Even if no one’s said it yet, it was obvious.

“I love you too,” he says softly and that’s when you realise what you just said. You turn towards him and start grinning, meeting Peter’s own wide smile. You start littering his face with kisses until he holds your face in place to kiss your lips. It’s like you melt right into his mouth once your lips touch his.

You spend the rest of the night telling each other that you love the other, giggling and cuddling and kissing until the early morning hours.

  *

Peter wants to sit through this lecture with you on his lap when you get to the lecture hall one minute before the lesson starts and there are no two seats free next to each other.

But you two promised yourselves that you weren’t going to be that annoying couple that has to be together at all times, so you two sit at opposite sides of the room.

Peter’s stomach tingles with jealousy when he sees that you’re sitting next to a guy you know. Brandon. Peter remembers him from the day you and Peter met. When it was Peter’s turn to tell an embarrassing sex story and he had nothing to say, you told Brandon to tell his story instead, distracting everyone and saving Peter.

He smiles when he thinks back to it; who knew that you two would end up in love?

But he hears your giggle through the entire lecture hall, over all the over murmuring, and Peter frowns. He knows it’s stupid if not wrong to be jealous about something so trivial. He’s more than okay with you having a male friend as long as he’s a good person; Peter’s happy about every nice friend you have.

But he’s spent the last few months getting to know you inside and out and you never mentioned Brandon. Now you’re talking to him like you’re best friends. Okay, the thing that bothers Peter the most is that you apparently knew Brandon’s sex story before he told it to the whole party.

Why were you talking to Brandon about sex? And why did you never mention it to Peter?

He knows you’ve done nothing wrong, and it’s ridiculous that he feels like this over a story and you laughing at another man’s jokes. If he was sitting next to you, he’s sure he’d be fine, but it doesn’t help that you’re out of reach.

He’s more curious than jealous, or that’s what he’s trying to tell himself, knowing he has no right to feel this way about such a little thing.

He tries to accept the feeling, tries to focus on what Professor Garfield is saying but throughout the whole lecture Brandon is in the back of Peter’s mind.

By the end of the lesson, he’s more mad than anything else – mad at himself for being jealous. He doesn't want to turn into one of those possessive, toxic and controlling boyfriends. He trusts you and he should be okay with you having dozens of male friends.

He waits for you by the door when the lecture is over, and in the sea of students you and Brandon leave the room separately. Peter’s so focussed on Brandon that he only notices you standing next to him once you hold his hand.

“What’s wrong?” You ask immediately. Peter didn’t know he was being that obvious.

He doesn’t want to drag you into his unnecessary jealousy and insecurity. “No-nothing,” he presses his lips together in a smile and you walk him into a quiet corner.

“What is it?” You sit down and pat the seat next to you for Peter to sit down.

“Well. I don’t know. It’s just, we usually sit together in this class and then we didn’t get to sit together and then you ended up next to a guy you know and I just…” It’s the shortened and less embarrassing version.

You smile, half with pity and half out of amusement, but he knows you’re not trying to make fun of him. “You were jealous? Of Brandon?”

“I don’t know. Kinda. I‘d honestly rather have you look at Andrew’s ass than have you talk to Brandon and giggle at everything he says and–like, I don’t even know him and I just felt insecure because I didn’t feel like I was a part of it,” he looks down, taking a deep breath, “Sorry, of course I don’t mean it like that. Obviously it’s fine if you have male friends. I was just wondering why you haven’t told me about him, because I remember him from the party the first time we met and I realised you never brought him up. And then I got so into my head about being jealous that I felt even worse and now I can’t even tell the jealousy from the being-mad-at-myself apart.”

“Okay, take my hand,” you say, “I love you. And-”

“I love you too,” Peter grins instantly, leaning over to kiss you.

“So, I didn’t tell you about Brandon because I wasn’t thinking about him. If he was important to me I would have introduced you two ages ago. I didn't even realise I was in this class until today. I met him the same night I met you and I was talking to a group of people before we played that game where he told that sex story. But wait.. Peter,” you furrow your eyebrows, “So you remember the story Brandon told?”

“I remember that he told a story, but I was too busy looking at you and being grateful that you helped me out of the situation.”

“Well, his story was about the first time he had sex with his boyfriend. And they’re still together.”

“Oh,” Peter says, dumbfounded, “Now I feel even worse. Why was I so jealous about a guy who has a boyfriend?”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ve been attached at the hip lately, so of course we're not used to being apart. I’m sure we’ll get used to it in a few days. But you’re jealous for the first time and we’re already talking about it, I’m sure we’ll sort it out. I promise we’ll work it out together.”

He pecks your lips again, “Thank you. I think I was way more surprised about my jealousy than actually being jealous. I trust you and I love you and I do that more and more every day. It’s just that I want you so much that I assume every guy feels the same, because why wouldn’t they? Forgive me if I project that onto them and don’t trust them. But I trust you and that’s what matters and what I’ll try to rely on. I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of something small.”

“Don’t apologise, I’m glad you told me how you feel. You’re already not jealous anymore and you’re talking about it and working it out. That’s what matters. You recognise that it’s unreasonable but jealousy is a normal emotion.”

He gives you a small smile, already understanding himself better thanks to you. You’re right, jealousy is something everyone feels from time to time. He’ll learn how to deal with it, and now that he’s with you, feeling loved and appreciated, he can’t even imagine ever being jealous again. He can tell his love is reciprocated. He trusts you, and that’s all he needs.

You sit together for another while, smiling and saying goodbye when Professor Garfield walks past you. You wait until he’s turned around the corner to say, “Wait, what did you say about his ass earlier?”

Peter chuckles, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just the first time we had this lesson you said something about how nice his ass is.”

“Oh, now I remember. But your ass is the only ass I wanna look at now, you know that?” 

“Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t have asked you to be my boyfriend if I was interested in anyone else’s ass.”

There’s a comfortable warmth in Peter’s chest at you calling him his boyfriend. He’ll always be happy to be that.

“Well,” he thinks out loud, “There are some guys with nice asses, I can’t deny that. But then we can both admire them, okay? Together.”

You laugh, “You’re so cute. Okay, I’ll let you know when I see a nice ass and we’ll appreciate it together.”

“Good,” Peter smiles, okay with you liking other people’s asses because, after all, those asses don’t have this great connection with you like he does. He’s so much to you than a person with a cute ass.

“But your ass is the nicest,” he adds.

“Thank you," you laugh and kiss his cheek.

You lean back on your hands and tilt your head towards your shoulder. This time Peter feels warmth rushing elsewhere.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about during the whole lesson?”

He nods.

“I was thinking,” you look around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear, “about how I can’t wait to have your dick in my mouth.”

Peter’s heart starts beating twice as fast as it usually does, “My-my- my dick? In your- why would— do you want it to be in your mouth?”

“I do. I had a dream about it last night. And I was gonna wait until tonight to do it but maybe we should do it now to relax you.”

“I.. don’t know if relax is the right word,” he says.

“I’ll do it to show you that I only like you then. And because I really need you.”

Peter’s face falls, “No, shit, I have this class now… no, nevermind, let’s go to my room–”

“No, we said our education and college come first, and that we wouldn’t let our academic performance fall off because of each other.”

“Yeah but I didn’t know that that meant saying no to you…” he looks at his lap and back at you again. 

“To me sucking your dick?” You’re teasing him on purpose now but despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants he’s enjoying it.

“Y-yeah..”

“Go to your class now and I’ll see you tonight,” you kiss him and get up.

“No wait–”

“Bye, baby,” you call out and walk away.

A class has never lasted as long as Peter’s next class. He leaves his bunched up hoodie on his lap the whole time even though he’s cold in just the shirt he’s wearing.

After class, he runs home, going to his dorm room first but you’re not there so he rushes to your room instead. You open the door as if Peter hasn’t been suffering for the past two hours, giving him a quick kiss and sitting back down to read a book.

He gets on his knees in front of you, putting his hands on your thighs, “Please. You can’t be serious right now. I need you.”

You pat the bed next to you and he lies down with a sigh, hoping to get your attention but you keep reading; maybe he can take a nap to make the time pass quicker. You pretend to read for another minute or two and then grin at Peter and straddle him, starting to kiss him. 

“Sorry, I thought it would be fun to tease you but I don’t know what I was thinking. I really want you.”

He’s panting into your mouth after a few moments, already feeling relief as you pull at his belt, taking off Peter’s pants and your and his shirt.

“Let me know uh, how I’m doing,” you say as you get down on your knees in front of the bed.

Your words clear Peter’s mind for a second and he leans down to give you a kiss, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, by the way.”

You shake your head, “No, I really want to. I just don’t know what to do, so, be patient with me.”

“Always,” he reaches for your hand to kiss it, “So I guess you just– oh my god.” He moans as your mouth wraps around him, all wet and warm.

He makes the mistake of looking at you, the head of his cock in your mouth, your pretty lips against his skin, eyes big and gorgeous and so innocent. He’s close so quickly and motions for you to stop.

“Everything okay?” You ask, already knowing what’s going on though. Peter’s eyes go to your chest, perfect tits pushed together by a pretty bra. If you take that off he doesn’t want to know how fast he’ll cum.

“Yes, more than okay. I love you so much, you know that?”

“I do, but Peter, this is torture for me,” you say seriously.

“What?” He sits up straighter.

“I wanna make you cum so so bad, please just let me, I don’t care how long you last.” You sound so horny that it makes Peter’s cock just that much harder in the way only happens when he’s with you, never when he’s alone.

“Okay. But try to go slow, I wanna enjoy it as long as I can.”

You smirk and he already knows you’ll give it your all, but while he wants to enjoy it as long as possible, he also really wants to cum.

You wrap a hand around him, slapping his dick against your tongue a few times, putting on a show for him. But once you wrap your lips around him, there’s no stopping you.

Peter’s skin glistens with a mixture of your spit and his precum and you keep taking him deeper and deeper until all of him disappears in your mouth. “Fuuuck,” he groans, huffing with a smile, accepting that he’s about to cum.

You start going faster, your wet mouth making a loud, obscene sound against his skin. Peter lies down on his back, barely able to keep his noises in.

“God– oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever felt,” his mouth falls open as he cranes his neck to look at you taking his dick. He puts a hand on your head, feeling your every movement up and down his cock.

He cums right down your throat as soon you start moaning, mouth stuffed full of Peter’s dick. You taste the first few drops and then jerk him off so his cum lands on your cheek and the sight is so dirty yet so beautiful.

You’re both panting when Peter is finished and you’re smiling at each other, in silent agreement that that was one of the hottest things you two have ever experienced. Your smile has something shy to it too, unsure how you look with Peter’s cum on your face.

But he’s looking at you with pure admiration, not believing how lucky he is for a bit before pulling you up to kiss you.

“Wait, Pete, you’ll get cu–”

“I don’t care.”

He kisses your mouth, and tasting himself on you is the sexiest thing in the world. He kisses his cum off your skin, connecting your lips afterwards, his tongue in your mouth until the cum is gone.

He wipes his mouth, asking something he’s been thinking about for a while, and he can’t go a second longer without it. “Do you wanna sit on my face?”

You’re taking off your clothes before the question even fully leaves his mouth and he takes in the sight of the prettiest woman alive getting undressed in front of him, for him.

He licks his lips when you slip out of your panties, the holy place between your legs shiny with arousal that’s started running down your thighs.

“You’re so wet.. from going down on me?” He asks, grabbing your thighs as you come closer, straddling him.

You simply nod and while you’re making your way up Peter’s body there’s a moment where your eyes meet for more than a few seconds. You don’t say anything, there’s just mutual appreciation and adoration for one another.

This is something good. Maybe it’s the best thing in the world. It is the best thing in the world.

“I love you,” he says, feeling so much more than those three simple words.

“I love you,” you say, your eyes holding such intensity that he doesn’t think there’s a single person in the world who has ever been as loved as Peter is by you.

He hopes he’s making you feel like the Goddess he sees you as, he adores every inch of you, all the things you’ve ever said to him and every second he’s spent with you.

The moment feels like it goes on forever, and at some point, you both move your heads towards each other, lips meeting in a kiss.

He grabs your ass, ready to drown in your pussy and to make you cum as many times as you want.

“Can I…?” You ask as you lower yourself. 

Peter pulls you towards his face and makes love to you all night. 

You spend the rest of the weekend in each other’s arms, feeling like the luckiest people on earth and you probably are.

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog if you enjoyed, it helps out a lot.｡.:*☆

[roanniom]

I adored smartest! Scratched an itch I didn’t know I had for Steve. Can’t stop thinking of him seeing someone trying to flirt with his tutor and getting possessive and dragging her down the nearest dark alley to prove no one could make her dumb like he can.

Smartest - Part 2

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 1

Warning: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, mutual masturbation, semi public sex / PIV sex / unprotected sex, teasing, power dynamics, King!Steve is a dick and is his own warning (but goes through angst here???)

Steve isn’t really sure what he assumed would happen after he’d been hooking up with his tutor for a while. There had been absolutely no forethought to the initial act, and the fact that you had been into him enough to let him keep fucking you during each session - well Steve Harrington isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, of course.

But he certainly hadn’t anticipated how the attention would affect how you carry yourself. In the halls. In class. In the stands during pep rallies. Walking through the diner or at the movies. Whenever Steve sees you out and about in Hawkins now, he can’t help but blink and do a double take.

You stand up straighter. You smile brighter. You make eye contact with the people around you. Your clothes are a little more relaxed, opting for flouncier skirts and fun tops rather than cardigans and your usual buttoned up, structured dresses.

To Steve, of course, the change seems motivated by him. And, to be fair, he was sort of the catalyst. He couldn’t possibly know that really you’ve started to come into your own, not because of Steve’s attention itself, but because of the way it allowed you to dismiss the fears you’d had of your own undesirability. The King of Hawkins High wanted you. You’re pretty sure it’s just as a steady fuck buddy, but still. You’d gone from scared to look boys in the eye to being very aware of the fact that you walking through the Harrington’s front door with your books and notes had a pretty much Pavlovian effect of Steve’s cock. He was basically hard fifteen minutes into any tutoring session these days.

It’s not that Steve’s attention has validated you, per se. It’s more that it has made you realize how silly men are. How easy and one track minded they can be. Its almost silly to think how starved you had been for approval and how sure you’d been that your status as an A+ goody goody made you untouchable. That was clearly, judging by the bruises Steve left on your thighs each week, not the case. The whole thing has made you ten times less nervous in his presence. And if you don’t have to be nervous around the King, it essentially means that you’re more at ease everywhere.

At first this change in you intrigues Steve. He truly had never really given you much thought prior to the start of your dalliance. Sure you were pretty…in a stuffy, academic, good girl type of way. But he was always a bird of prey, looking for shiny, garish, colorful and shapely things to catch his eye.

So the day you show up to his place in a tight skirt and a fashionable off the shoulder blouse that bares your collar bones and exposes cleavage, Steve’s eyes practically pop out of his head.

“Well hello,” he says directly to your tits. You roll your eyes and step around him into the house.

“Hi, Steve,” you reply, walking towards the dining room where you usually have your sessions. Steve jogs up behind you and grabs you at the waist, turning you back to him.

“Not in there. Let’s study in my room.”

“Why?” you ask, confused by the sudden change.

“Well, my parents are home,” Steve elaborates. Heat fills you as you realize what he means, but you cock your head to the side, waiting for him to say it. Steve rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “So we can’t…have fun in the dining room.”

“I’m here to tutor you, Steve. So I guess it’s okay if we can’t have fun,” you say with a shrug. You can’t suppress your smile though and Steve’s smile widens. A few weeks ago you would have stuttered and gone shy but immediately compliant, hoping to please him. This was new.

“Yeah but what about when I get an answer right?” Steve asks, stepping forward and lifting his hand so he can play with the hem of your shirt. “You know I need positive reinforcement.”

You do your best to hide your swallow at the memory of how you had sucked his cock after you’d cajoled him into memorizing his flash cards. Even more heat courses through your body but you look up at him defiantly.

“I brought a packet of gold stars. You like stickers, Steve?”

Your answer catches him off guard and he lets out a bark of a laugh. There’s a triumphant fanfare ringing in your ears at the fact that you are able to make Steve laugh like that. Organically and not part of any of kind of show or flirtation or charm offensive.

“I do like stickers…” he says, his hand dipping under the hem of your top and splaying out over the bare skin of your waist. “But I think this body might motivate me better.”

Your breath catches in your throat at that. His heavy eye contact leaves you nowhere to run. Not that you’d ever run from Steve. He’s a magnet pulling you in regardless of distance or context.

But he’s also made the vital mistake of showing his hand. He wants something from you, too. This isn’t a one way serving pity situation. You might be dumb with his cock in you, but before it gets to that point you’re still the smartest girl in Hawkins. So you use this information to your advantage.

You take his hand and walk him up the stairs (a bold move that he didn’t see coming and which makes him immediately rock hard as he watches your ass away ahead of him up the steps).

You’re the one who closes the door. He locks it.

You end up getting Steve to complete all of his homework…by himself. With motivation in the form of a game where you give him a sticker after he completes each assignment and he gets to decide which body part of yours it goes on. By the end of the afternoon you’re naked on his bed, a sticker on each of your tits, each of your ass cheeks, your bellybutton, and your lower abdomen. By the end of the session his head is squeezed between your thighs, his hands roaming and roving to squeeze each soft piece of flesh he’d bedazzled with his gold stars of favor.

So yeah. At first your increased confidence was something Steve found pretty fucking hot.

But as time went on, he began to realize that your confidence didn’t begin and end with him. He started seeing you around in school more. It’s not that you had somehow increased the amount of times you cross his path in a day, exactly. More that you used to melt into the background a bit more. He’d notice you only if you were right in front of him shyly waving. He’d wave back dutifully at his tutor, sometimes throwing you a bone in the form of a wink, lazily enjoying the way it would so obviously throw you into a tailspin with virtually no effort on his part.

Now you’re somehow everywhere all at once. And not only are you noticeable in the crowd - you stand out from it. Your hair is more stylish, your clothes are unapologetically patterned and colored and fit you in ways his hands envy. Your smile is brighter than the god damn fluorescents above. And now Steve is the one who has to maneuver to catch your eye. Because you’re always talking to people these days, it seems. And a lot of those people are guys, Steve notices begrudgingly.

You stand with your back against a locker, your books pulled to your chest as your arms wrap around them, a smile on your face that is definitely not worth the lame ass comment said by the dumb jock standing before you. Steve pauses at the water fountain where he’d been bending when he’d turned his head and saw you. So clearly the recipient of some football player’s attention.

And boy do you glow under attention.

That week when you arrive at his house to tutor him, Steve tries to charm you again into simply fucking outright. Again, you coyly dance around it, making him work for it. He ends up losing his patience and crowding you in the kitchen when you get up for a snack.

“Steve! I’m trying to—!” You’re squealing but he swallows it up as he takes the coke can out of your hand and blindly moves it away from you, his mouth already hot on yours.

Before you can register what’s happening, Steve’s hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter and pushed his way between your spread legs.

“What?” Steve asks, pulling away and feigning nonchalance as if he hadn’t just manhandled you and mauled you with his lips. “You said we could have a snack break.” He slides a hand down to cup your pussy through your skirt. He pets at the place over your clit. “This is my snack.”

What would have once rendered you speechless makes you roll your eyes.

“I’m actually hungry, Steve.”

Steve gives you a lopsided grin and drops his hand on his hard on, evident and swell in the confines of his jeans.

“Got a snack for you right here.”

You laugh at that and Steve feels something akin to pride zing through him. But it’s not exactly like pride, an emotion he knows well. No, it’s something different. Warmer.

“As much as I do enjoy that particular snack, Harrington, I don’t think your cum will satiate me.”

“Fuck. Dirty talk and big words like ‘satiate’.” Steve pretends to feel faint with a hand on his forehead. “You really have this hot smart girl thing figured out.”

You shake your head at him but smile, and Steve hates the fact that it’s your smile that makes him even harder.

He also hates the fact that fifteen minutes later he finds himself sliding into a booth at the local diner rather than sliding himself into your sweet pussy.

You’d cajoled him into taking you for a real meal since there was nothing to eat at his place. And no, you’d continued to argue. His cock was not a balanced meal.

His hand had been on your thigh for half of the drive to the diner before he realized, like ice water down his back, that the whole situation reeked of a date. He’d pulled his hand back over to clutch at the steering wheel with a double grip, eyes flitting to you anxiously. However you seemed not to notice, looking instead out the window pleasantly.

As he’d parked Steve had made a mental note to reel in the PDA. He didn’t want you thinking this was more than it was. More than a weekly fuck session between two consenting people. One of whom used to have the upper hand and one of whom…had the sexiest smile with lips that looked sinful wrapped around a stripped straw and cheeks that hollowed sexually as they sucked—

Fuck.

Steve Harrington was in trouble.

The meal went by quickly, and over time you were able to pull him from his rattled internal monologue, stealing his fries and teasing him for getting in trouble in class earlier in the day. Steve throws a fry at you and nudges your foot with his under the table. You laugh. His stomach flips. His palm itches so he drops it under the table and rubs it against the denim on his thigh.

When the waitress comes with the check, you bound to the bathroom and Steve gets a minute to get his shit together.

He’s Steve fucking Harrington. Supreme stud of Hawkins High. Another girl every week (although if he was counting, which he wasn’t, it had been a few weeks since he’d reracked his rotation). He fishes his wallet out of his too-tight jeans and drops down some bills.

“Thanks, handsome.”

Steve looks up, expecting to see you but instead realizing it had come from the waitress who he’d forgotten was standing there. She’s a pretty thing, maybe a year or two older. He’s seen her working here before and he lets his eyes roam over her figure unabashedly. Her uniform isn’t zipped up all the way in the front, leaving exposed a generous swell of cleavage and her waist flares out into a voluptuous set of hips. She taps a manicured nail on her order pad, patiently waiting for him to finish oogling her. She’s a hot girl and he’s a hot guy. She knows this dance and so does Steve. When he drags his eyes up from her tits to her face, she looks expectant.

This is the part where he chats her up. Where he compliments her - or cuts her down a bit in a boyish, redeemable way - and then asks her out. He’s supposed to give her his million watt rich boy smile, run a hand through his hair, and turn on the charm.

She’s expecting it. He’s expecting it of himself.

But instead, all he can manage is a nod and a tight smile. He watches the waitress’s brows raise and her smile fall a bit. But then she’s simply picking up the money and walking away. Steve has a moment of panic as his eyes drop to watch the sway of her ass as she retreats. What the fuck is wrong with him? He could have been tucked away in his car with that hot woman, spanking that ass within the hour.

Instead he’s still tucked away in a booth at a diner her didn’t want to go to, still painfully hard without an outlet in sight.

Which is when he hears your laugher ring out, causing said hard cock to twitch. Steve turns quickly to find you standing by the entrance to the bathroom, cornered by yet another football player.

He sees red. The way you’re leaning up against the wall is a mirror image to when he’d seen you receive attention earlier in the week by your locker. You gaze up at the football player with a smile that Steve realizes he’d assumed was only meant for him. It boils his blood to think that the smile you’d bestowed on him so dutifully, so loyally, was just your smile. A thing to be handed out like some cheap party favor to any Tom, Dick, or Harry.

Steve can’t know - especially from a distance - that you really are only humoring this guy. If one looked closer they could never mistake the tight lipped, emotionless nicety on your face for the radiant, full bodied smile you reserved for Steve. You’d gotten cornered by the jock on your way back to the bathroom, and you’d been trying to politely extricate yourself from his lukewarm advances for a few minutes now.

He was rambling about his car and the upgrades he’d gotten done to it when suddenly a pair of big hands land heavy on your shoulder.

“Babe, I paid the check. Let’s get out of here.”

You whip your head around to find Steve behind you, though his gaze is placed firmly on the football player. Though they aren’t the same in width, Steve’s got the guy beat in height, and he uses it to his advantage by standing up straight and puffing his chest a bit.

“Harrington,” the jock chokes out. In the Hawkins hierarchy, the basketball team is more successful than the football team by a long shot, so a certain amount of deference is expected for the king of the court, even from fellow athletes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…is this your girl?”

Steve feels you go rigid under his hold. Your eyes flash up to his but he doesn’t meet yours.

“Don’t you have a playbook to memorize?” Steve asks coolly. He pulls lightly and your back presses against his chest. “If I remember football season right, I’d say it’s gonna take you till fall and then some. Better get back to it.”

You try to laugh his comment off and put a hand on the bicep of your would-be suitor.

“Steve, this is—,”

“Mr. Irrelevant,” Steve completes for you, smoothly using both an insult and a football pun.

The jock stutters another apology before ambling back to his friends. You don’t have time to question Steve because his arm is suddenly around you, pulling you with him out the door.

The two of you walk briskly to his car, and only when you reach the passenger door do you finally regain your powers of speech.

“What was that in there, Steve?” you ask quietly. Your hand is on the door handle but you remain motionless.

“What? I told you, I don’t like football players,” Steve says with a shrug, yanking open the driver side door and dropping into his seat. You climb in carefully and watch him as he violently pulls on his seatbelt.

“Why?”

“Because they’re a bunch of meat heads and it’s a sport revolving around how many concussions they can rack up—,”

“No, Steve,” you interrupt gently, your hand dropping on his knee. “Why were you acting…possessive?”

Steve’s skin burns through his jeans where your hand touches him. He stares at it for a second before looking up, agitated.

“Well excuse me for saving you. I thought you’d be thanking me for getting that guy to stop drooling on you.”

His words sting and you wince. Steve even winces a bit, having not intended to sound so forceful. You shrug.

“He was only being nice.”

Steve let’s out a humorless laugh.

“That wasn’t being nice. That was undressing you with his eyes. That was trying to get you to let him feel you up under the bleachers. Nice is—,”

“Nice is flirting with your tutor to get her to do your homework?”

Steve freezes before he can turn the key in the ignition. He looks over to find that you’re staring blankly out the windshield. Your arms are hugging you, like you’re trying to comfort yourself.

“That’s not…”

“Nice is fucking her when you’re bored? Your little prescheduled sex appointment?”

Steve’s defenses raise and he unbuckles his seatbelt so he can turn more fully to you.

“Hey wait, that’s—,”

“That’s exactly what this is. I haven’t misunderstood that, Steve,” you say, finally turning the full force of your earnest gaze on him. “Have you?”

Steve blinks at you slowly. Completely unsure about what’s going on and how the night has taken this turn.

He’s even more bewildered when you suddenly move to climb into the back seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks, surprised and leaning over to watch you lay yourself down on the seat.

“You wanted to fuck me earlier. So do it.”

Steve feels like you’ve slapped him in the face. Your stare is cool and you begin to unbutton your blouse. Panic rises inside of him and his head whirls around.

“Here? Someone could see,” Steve argues. They are in the back corner of the parking lot, but it’s a parking lot nonetheless, illuminated by one sole street lamp. You shrug.

“The windows are tinted, aren’t they?”

Steve can’t begin to comprehend the conflict coursing through his veins. Of course the windows are tinted. Almost illegally so. He knows that because he’s fucked countless girls in the back seat of his car. Hadn’t he even just thought about fucking that waitress in his car only minutes ago?

But with you…

He’s thrown off by the urge he has to cover your breasts with his hands when you peel back your top. Not even to touch you but just to keep you from being seen by others.

Why does he fucking care?

King Steve had fucked at every party he’d ever been to - sometimes even in rooms with no doors or up against the back of a house with people nearby on a porch. He’d never once had a conscience about it. As long as the girl was down, he was ready to go.

So why is it different now, with you stripping in his back seat and staring at him with big doe eyes?

“Come on. Don’t make me get started by myself,” you say teasingly. You’re clearly trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. Steve swallows hard.

“You wouldn’t.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him and lift the hem of your skirt. You’re wearing a lacy scrap of panties that match your bra. Definitely a far cry from the sensible underwear you’d been wearing the first time he’d seduced you.

“Try me.”

And despite the confusion and warning bells going off in his head, Steve’s clambering into the back seat in seconds. He’s on top of you, hips shoved between your thighs and big hands on your wrists, pinning them above your head against the inside of the car door.

“That’s more like it,” you coo, smiling a dazzling smile up at him. It thrills him and upsets him and makes him frustrated all at once, and since he doesn’t know how to express that with words he does it physically. His mouth drops to your neck so he can pull a sizable amount of flesh between his lips and suck. Hard. You gasp and arch up into him, giving him the perfect opportunity to switch your wrists into a single handed grip so he can move the other hand down to grope at your breasts. Instead of covering them and hiding them, he rips down your bra, letting your breasts spill from the cups.

Steve bites a bruising trail down from your neck to your cleavage, sucking harder than he ever has before.

“Trying to be cute, huh?” he growls against your skin. You laugh breathlessly, wrists straining against his hold.

“Yeah. ‘s it working?”

That makes Steve strangle a laugh but it still frustrates him. You’ve somehow still got the upper hand here. Even though you’re below him and your body is at his mercy. When did the tables turn so fully?

So he sits up abruptly, leaving you laying back, legs still open wide around his hips, his spit still drying around the new bruises sucked to your neck. You’re motionless for a second before leaning up on your elbows to look at him, dazed.

“I’m a little unconvinced,” Steve says with a shrug. A frown filters over your features. You watch as he smooths his hands up and down your thighs, looking at your panty-clad center appraisingly.

“What are you unconvinced about?” you ask. Steve draws a line with his index finger over the length of the waistband of your panties.

“That you really want it bad enough.”

Frustration flickers in your eyes.

“Want what?” you ask, playing along. Steve drops one hand to the bulge in his jeans.

“This cock.”

You roll your eyes and sit up higher.

“Of course I want—,”

“I’m not sure, baby. You were gonna touch yourself back here. Maybe I should have let you handle it.” His actions contradict his words as one hand rubs slow circles right at the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Your eyebrows knit together.

“No, I want you,” you reply, almost petulantly.

There it is.

This is what Steve needed.

But he shakes his head. Now that he’s got you back on the line he’s going to enjoy this to the fullest.

“Maybe you had the right idea,” he says, leaning back a bit against the opposite door. The backs of your thighs still rest on the tops of his, and with one hand still heavy on you, his free hand pops open the button of his jeans. You feel the slide of his zipper rush down your spine.

When Steve pulls his cock out and begins to stroke it, you feel your stomach drop and your mouth water. He’s watching you as he does it. Eyes darting from your breasts almost spilling out of the cups of your bra to the wet spot in the center of your panties. It makes you hot. It turns you on in a way that’s almost painful to watch the flushed fat head of his cock disappear and reappear in the grip of his fist.

“I’m…I’m right here,” you mutter. Steve grins and takes his hand from his cock and slides it confidently under the elastic hem of your panties.

“Yeah, you are.”

The intrusion of his fingers is sudden and sure and you gasp at the feeling of them sliding through your slick. He swirls a few circles around your tensing hole before sliding up to press circles into your clit. You drop back down off your elbows and let out a satisfied moan at the stimulation you’d craved.

But then…he’s pulling his hand back, allowing the elastic of your panties to snap back on you with a sting. You sit up again fast and watch as he takes the wetness he’d gathered from you to make the glide of his hand on his cock more smooth. Your jaw drops.

“Thanks, baby,” Steve says with a wink.

“Steve, what?!”

He shrugs.

“I would’ve asked you to spit in my hand but I didn’t think you would since you’re having an attitude.”

That. That struck exactly the nerve he thought it would. Your jaw sets and your eyes flash. Scooting back a bit so you, too, can lean on the inside of the door closest to you, you drop your legs open wider, well aware of the way Steve’s attention immediately drops to them.

“You’re not very nice, Steve Harrington,” you say quietly. Both of your hands move to squeeze at your own breasts and you arch into your own touch. Steve chuckles at that, eyes on your hands.

“And you’re nice even when you’re pissed apparently,” he says dismissively. Your frown deepens as you pull your bra down to expose you fully. Steve’s face goes blank, like you hoped.

“Fuck you,” you respond, just as quiet as before. Steve’s eyes remain glazed, hand moving faster on his cock, but he gives a lopsided grin.

“There she is. Feisty.”

The interior of the car has started to heat up. The humid smell of sex fills the air, though you’d prefer actually having sex. He’s been pushing it tonight, but you really can’t help the way you feel watching his big hand move on his even bigger cock. It should be inside you. This is the day of your tutoring session. The one day of the week that almost guaranteed you had his attention. Every other day, King Steve belonged to Hawkins. He was a heartthrob and a hometown hero. Probably inside of a different girl each night of the weekend (though you try not to think of that because it’s gross).

But on tutoring days it’s just you. So the fact that he’s choosing to touch himself rather than fill you has you feeling petty. It makes you redouble your efforts. You pinch one of your nipples and let out a heady, performative sigh, all while your other hand moves down and shoves inside your panties. You trace the same path Steve did, circling your hole and then your clit. Getting yourself nice and worked up with your eyes glued on the way Steve drags his hand over his throbbing dick.

Steve is mesmerized, as seems evident by the way he’s stopped talking to watch you. To hear you.

When you push two fingers inside of yourself, you let out an indulgent moan that causes Steve’s hips to buck into his hand. Your thighs quiver where they remain stretched out around his legs.

You drop your other hand down into your stretched out panties to play with your clit while you continue thrusting fingers in and out of yourself - that’s when Steve loses it.

“Show me,” he says gruffly, eyes ripping from the space between your legs to look up at you blearily.

“You’re literally watching me right now,” you laugh, breathless. Steve shakes his head and reaches out to tug on the edge of your panties.

“Get this shit out of the way.”

Now it’s your turn to shake your head.

“Nope. You had your chance with my pussy. You wanted your hand.”

The filthy words coming from you almost makes his eyes roll back in his head. He grunts and continues fisting his cock, but he looks more frustrated now.

Unfortunately there’s something of a Pavlovian response in your body at the sight of his aggression. Whether you like it or not, your burgeoning sexuality had crackled into being under the hands of Steve Harrington, and Steve being Steve is what gets you going.

Unlucky for you and the upper hand you’re trying to cling to, Steve can tell. Back to back weeks of fucking the same person will do that to you, apparently.

“You’re close.” It’s more accusation than observation.

You want to disagree but your fingers speed up on your clit and you widen your legs even more, looking to build pressure.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Fuck.” Steve slows his hand on his cock, breathing deeply and placing a laser focus on your hands in your panties. “Bet you’re getting tight around those fingers, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod, eyes closing and head thrown back against the door. “Really tight…”

Steve let’s out an uncharacteristically pathetic moan. The thrill of it causes your core to contract even tighter.

“Bet you wish I was sucking those tits right now,” Steve remarks, replaying in his head all the times he’d made you cum lately. You lift up to look at him with stern hooded eyes and pull one of your hands from your panties. With a pointed look you raise your fingers to your mouth, lick them wetly, and then bring them down to play with your nipple. Your hips buck into your other hand and Steve loses his fucking mind.

“Alright, that’s fucking it,” he says, launching himself forward. He’s on you in the blink of an eye, hitching your legs up and around his hips, dropping so that his elbows cage you in on either side of your head. The length of his cock slides parallel to your entrance with a wet sound, pushing your pussy lips apart.

“Finally,” you moan petulantly. And that’s all the consent Steve needs to reach down and line himself up so he can thrust into you.

Things get hot and hazy after that. Your fingers thread into his hair and pull hard at the roots. Steve’s tongue and teeth are everywhere, but especially on your pulse point and on the peaks of your breasts.

The slap of skin on skin fills the interior of the car, rivaled only by your shared panting.

Steve shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t be such a relief to sink into your body, like it’s a home he’s been waiting to return to. Your nails biting into his back through his shirt shouldn’t feel like heaven and your little mewls and gasps shouldn’t be an angel’s chorus. He’s not even fucking religious, so what’s with the holy comparisons?

“Oh Steve. Fuck,” you whisper moan right into his ear. Steve slides a hand under you to push your lower back up, giving your hips a tilt that lets him hit deeper.

“It’s good, yeah?” he asks. It’s a question but it’s cocky. You bite his earlobe and clench around him.

“I don’t know, is it?”

“Fucking Christ.”

Yeah. Steve Harrington is seeing god in the back seat of his car in a diner parking lot.

~*~

It takes a minute for you both to catch your breath when you’re done. Sweat and cum and words left unsaid create a film over the two of you which makes it hard to breathe.

Eventually Steve helps you climb back into the front seat before hoping behind the wheel himself to bring you back to the empty Harrington house. Upon arriving, Steve puts the car in park and turns to you, intent on speaking though he’s not sure what he plans to say. You, however, give him no such chance to figure it out as you bound out of the car and up the path to the front door. Steve catches up to let you in.

It’s later than it usually is when you wrap up your tutoring sessions. Steve has to turn on lamps as he follows you through the dark foyer and into the dining room where he finds you already grabbing your things and packing your bag up, half hidden in shadow.

“We didn’t finish the work,” he says quietly. Some what dumbly. You hoist your bag over your shoulder and give him a smile that deep down he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“Yeah. Looks like we’ll have to finish another time.”

When you start for the door, moving at a brisk pace, Steve stumbles after you.

You’re over the threshold and making your way to your car, glowing in the yellow light of the porch lamp before Steve can blurt out.

“When?”

God, he does sound fucking dumb.

And you. You turn and give him one last smile. Looking so put together. So smart.

“That’s up to you, Steve,” you say with a shrug, opening your car door. “You let me know.”

And with that, you get in your car and drive away. Leaving Steve standing alone on his porch with his thoughts.

~*~

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Ahhh originally had no intention of writing a part two and then this happened. Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think and thanks for reading!!

[lil-quinnie]

I'm not that innocent

part II

Stepdad!Eddie x F!reader

Warnings: STEPCEST, AGE GAP (Eddie's 40s and Reader is middle 20s) , daddy kink, oral (m receiving) , slight pet play, dom sub dynamic, degradation, cheating, bad family's relationship, nipple play, breast fucking, Lemme know if i forget something <3

Summary: Your mother left your stepfather alone and lonely on her birthday, the next morning you wanted to make his morning as easy as possible, that's what a good girl would do, isn't it?

picture of older eddie by: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

You've known Eddie for almost five years now, ever since he started dating your mother when you were fifteen, your mother and he didn't know each other well when they had the brilliant idea of getting married and living together in less than three months of dating.

You didn't have to say how disastrous the whole get-together was inside the suburban house that used to be just yours and your mother's, and now in every room you looked there were traces of Eddie, from Mister Munson to you.

For two long years your Mother's marriage to Mr. Munson seemed like a fairy tale, he brought her flowers at least twice a week, cooked delicious dinners while your mother drank a (few) glasses of wine until they were both laughing and bumping into the hallway walls, giggling and whispering like two teenagers in love, it was cute you thought.

Things started to get bad on your 18th birthday. Eddie used to work in a big mechanic and managed to buy you an almost new car as a gift, your mother knew the whole plan and helped the man with every detail, from covering the car with an old sheet to blindfolding you and guiding you to the garage.

Maybe it was your reaction, maybe it was Eddie's hands hugging you back, hands in your lower back, maybe it was how you jumped and laughed causing your body and your stepdad's to brush against each other,your mother could see your braless chest squeezed on her sweaty husband, but something in her attitude has changed, both with you and with her husband.

Unlike your mother who is an extrovert, you were quiet, preferring to stay with your books and headphones. Your quiet nature caused your voice to be low and calm, which would explain your mother's sudden change after your explosive reaction , with her husband and not with her! Which ignited a flame of insecurity inside the head of the older woman who was always talking back to you for anything you said, who started to ignore you and made your life more difficult at every opportunity .

The situation for Eddie wasn't the best either, they fought over any and all nonsense and it always ended the same way, with him begging her to stay, while she kept saying terrible things to him, the ending was your mother slamming the front door in his face, going to god only knew where, as he sat in the dark room, face in his hands.

It didn't take long for rumors to start running around town. One day of carelessness and your mother was seen by a neighbor kissing a boy much younger than her. And from what you'd heard, it wasn't the first time.

That was 2 years ago, you didn't stick around long enough to find out if they were real or not, but you never understood why Eddie put up with it all and believed your mother's sarcastic voice when she denied the whole story.

Now, 2 years older than the last time you were here, you avoid that story as much as possible, of course the weekly calls home became monthly and soon you only called on major holidays, visiting was out of the question as money was tight and your job at the library college barely paid your rent. 

You wouldn't accept financial help from them even though they insisted, knowing what happened the time you accepted your old car.

Now, on your mother's 40th birthday, you were forced to be there, your mother even offered to pay for your plane ticket but you preferred to face the 9 hours on the road. When you arrived, to your -not- surprise, things weren't very different from how they were in your last days in this house.

Your mother was trying her best to maintain a not-so-fake smile as she waved from the porch and you parked your car. You were happy to see the mother you hadn't seen in a few years, now blonder with more visible wrinkles but still just as beautiful.

The tension of a few years ago didn't exist but everyone could feel that something still wasn't clicking. You gave your mother a quick hug and nodded at Eddie, as you tried to carry all your luggage alone into your old childhood room, now with some guitars and acoustic, posters of some old bands you didn't know and others that you were much more than a fan.

If you noticed the little touches Eddie left in your home, this room now certainly screamed Eddie, you mean, Mister Munson!

The strangest thing was the fresh smell of his shampoo on the pillow that used to be yours. "Does he usually sleep here?" you thought, digging in your nose, taking in all Mr. Munson scent, the cigarette, something earthy and musk, all of him, causing your thighs to press against each other to bring any kind of relief.

It had been three days since you had stayed with them and the tension was only beginning to rise. You could hear the little arguments your mother had with Eddie over the smallest of things. The final straw, both for you and for your mother, was on Friday night, on her birthday. 

The argument had started over a wrong present that Mr. Munson had bought, intensified because he tried to hug the woman who was raging in front of him and ended when, to your surprise, he shouted that he missed her, he missed her touch. Making your mother grab an old backpack, stuff it with some clothes and speed off the tires of your car.

You tossed and turned all night in your bed, feeling his scent wafting around you, the sound of the man's deep breathing sleeping on the couch echoing in your ears, making your hand roam over your body, adding pressure everywhere you thought that Eddie would pay more attention until you found your sex already wet.

The mere memory of Mr. Munson's hands were enough to send you over the edge, but it was hearing him moan in rage that made you come harder, thinking of how he could take all that anger and frustration out on your pussy at the same time, instead of anything else he was doing right now.

You didn't know how to act the next morning, not because you heard the fight, but because you knew how needy your stepfather was, that information made something carnal wake up inside your chest and you decided to test the waters around you.

You decided to act as if nothing had happened, leaving the room only in a baggy T-shirt and shorts so short they barely showed, and a pair of white socks.

You went to the kitchen to make coffee when you noticed the unconscious figure of your stepfather lying on the sofa, his hair covering half of his face and the half you could see was beautiful.

You prepared two large mugs of coffee, looked for the man's cigarettes and took a deep breath trying to gain more courage to wake him up, not knowing what his reaction would be after this type of situation with your mother.

You put everything on the coffee table in the living room, knelt down next to the sofa and brushed some curls from the man's face. Eddie squirmed under your touch and slowly opened his eyes, taking time to understand what was happening and where he was.

He sat on the couch, having an overhead view of you, getting to see the contours of your breasts and your nipples already erect from the weather, peeking out from under your shirt "my shirt" he thought to himself as he looked your body up and down. down, smiling slightly when he saw you kneeling so close to him.

"Good morning sweetheart" he said in a hoarse voice, rubbing his face with both hands "Sorry, I didn't expect the night to end like that" he gave you an apologetic smile, you just nodded and passed the mug of coffee for the older man.

"It's okay, really. It wasn't your fault" you smiled, as you started to stand up, you let your shirt ride up to the curve of your ass, as you purposefully bent down to pick up one of Eddie's cigarettes, turning to face the man who was obviously checking you out "May I Mr Munson?" you asked in the sweetest voice you had in your arsenal.

Eddie took a while to understand what your request was and looked away when he saw your obvious smirk and cleared his throat to disguise the blush rising in the man's bearded cheeks.

"S-sure, be my guest sweetheart" he straightened his body on the couch, sitting as straight as possible, bringing a pillow to his lap trying to hide the erection marked in black jeans.

"But you know you don't have to call me Mister Munson, right? Fuck, I don't even think my father was called that." he chuckled softly as he took a few sips of his delicious coffee

You now leaning against the window across the room, cigarette wedged between your lips, you shrugged and lit your cigarette, your eyes never leaving the man's eyes, who eyed you suspiciously

"Sorry, old habits die hard" you blew out the smoke and smiled at him, the kind of smile he hadn't gotten in a while, the kind of smile he'd gotten from your mother for the past two years.

"Yes! Of course,yeah, just Eddie is fine" He had to take a big, long drink of his coffee to quell the malice that was growing in his face, but he didn't expect your answer to be as direct as it was "I thought you wanted to that I called you daddy" you bit your lip as the man took a slight choke on his coffee before giving a disbelieving laugh.

"You would like that, right, little girl?" The smirk and the hungry look that Eddie was giving at you made your thighs clenched automatically, this time harder causing a low sigh to escape your perfect lips. Not going unnoticed by Eddie, who was already sitting with his forearms resting on his knee as he stared at you like you were a prey.

"Yes" you said above a whisper, "Yes what?" Eddie's gaze never leaving your face;

"Yes d-daddy" you replied with a groan, making the man squeeze the pillow tighter on his lap, “Good girl”.

Silence filled the living room, you could hear your stepdad's cigarette paper burning across the room at the same intensity you could feel his gaze burn holes in your skin

"Are you, are you feeling better, Daddy?" you smirked as you approached the man sitting on the couch a few steps away from you.

"Stop!" he demanded, making you stop instantly, not knowing if he was asking you to stop the overt flirting or if he wanted you to physically stop moving so you did both.

"So obedient, what a good girl" he said, taking the pillow off his lap leaving the bulge in his pants apparent to you, he brought a huge, ringed hand to his cock, groping and squeezing causing the man to moan

"please daddy" you said pathetically not really knowing what you were asking for "please what little girl?" he said, now sliding his hand over his cock, showing all the girth that would hopefully be filling your desperate little pussy

"Can I get close to you? Can I make you feel good daddy? please" Eddie could sense how much you were in need and decided to take full advantage of it.

"You can, of course you can princess" he smiled as if he was hiding something and before you could say thank you, he completed the sentence "but come crawling to daddy, little girl" 

The words disappeared from your mouth, your knees were already weak watching Eddie touching him even if only over his pants.

Your knees sank to the floor, and you made a point of pushing your ass as high as possible, leaving your little white cotton panties visible as you crawled between the older man's legs.

You can smell him faintly in your nose, the same one that surrounded you all night for the last 2 days. With his small hands gripping his stepdad's thick thighs Eddie did the one thing you wouldn't expect him to do, he grabbed a handful of your hair and rubbed your delicate face against his crotch.

"Yeah, that's it, I know you like it you little slut" he circled his hips against your face, you could feel his already hard cock pressed against your face "you think I didn't listen to you yesterday?" you let a moan come out of his mouth followed by a chorus of "please, please, oh! let me taste you daddy, i'm your good girl, i'm your good kitten"

Your last sentence made the man moan loudly and start to unbutton his pants in a clumsy way, pulling his pants down to his ankles and kicking them away, your hands went up his thigh, stopping at his groin, you could feel the heat emanating from him. of his dick.

"Go on little girl, take your time" 

he said, opening his legs wider for you to settle between them.

You did as you were told, your hands roamed your stepfather's body, who felt everything as if it were torture, your hand enveloped his hard cock, giving a few kisses to the covered head of the member, you could taste the precum through the fabric of his boxers.

You pulled the underwear down Eddie's legs, gripping his cock in both hands, touching your feather-light lips to his red head, giving cat-like licks as you moved your hands up and down. "oh! fuck" Eddie's hands found the hair on the back of your neck, taking control of your head, forcing your mouth deeper and deeper into his hard cock. "Put your tongue out little girl, let daddy fill your throat, huh?" you just asserted and stuck out your tongue as much as your body would allow.

Eddie took advantage of the space your sticking-out tongue created and shoved his cock deep down your throat "mother…fucker" he groaned, setting a rhythm as he fucked your throat. He wiped away the fat tears that were streaming down your face and you could see his smile through your blurred vision as he licked your tears away from his thumb print.

"That's it little girl, making daddy feel so good" Eddie ripped your head off his cock so you could breathe, you moaned at the lack of contact causing Eddie to slap your cheek, making you even redder. "Thank you daddy" you said, leaving the man almost speechless.

The stepfather's hands went to the hem of your shirt, lifting it, leaving your bare breasts on display. "I knew it" he said, slapping your chest with his hand  "looks like my little girl is a slut", Eddie stuffed part of the hem of your shirt into your mouth, trapping the fabric between your teeth as he attacked your nipples.

He licked and sucked your nipple like a starving man, pinching the other nipple with his fingertips, rolling and tugging, making your muffled moans almost inaudible, but not to Eddie.

He ripped the shirt from your body holding your face between his fingers "Now open that pretty little mouth wide little girl, I need you to get my cock very wet for what I want to do to you next, ok slut?" he whispered as he passed the head of the cock in your mouth asking for access.

You opened your mouth wide, his cock assaulted your mouth without mercy, going so deep that with each thrust your mouth watered more, making your saliva run down your stepfather's balls and your full bare breasts "That's it, little girl, swallow everything daddy gives you" You completely surrendered control of your head to the man, so it was no surprise when he ripped you off his cock and made you suck his balls instead, causing more saliva to run down your body .

You took an entire ball into your mouth, sucking so gently it took Eddie over the edge more than once in a row, he pulled your bodies apart, lifting you off the floor and placing you on the sofa in the position he needed you, leaning against the headboard of the sofa. Your step dad jerked off a few times before wedging his hard cock between your breasts.

His big hands squeezed your breasts against his cock, he used the mixture of your fluids to slide the hard member against your skin, always letting the luscious head hit your chin "C’mom princess, let me in your mouth, open that little mouth for daddy", Eddie ran his fingers over your nipples, making you grind against the couch looking for any kind of relief.

Eddie was so mesmerized by the puddle forming on the black leather sofa that he didn't notice your open mouth, a string of saliva fell on the head of his cock, snapping him out of his trance, faster fucking your breasts as the angry head of his cock it entered through your lips, brushing deliciously on his tongue, the texture of your taste buds made eddie's knees weak

"Please daddy, give me more, I can take more" you said trying to get more of him into your mouth as he fucked frantically, pinching and pulling at your nipples, he was in a frenzy. Head thrown back, eyes closed, highly pornographic moans followed by insults that made you feel like the most desired and admired woman in the world “‘m gonna come, oh!fuck, where? where can I come?" he said between moans.

"In my mouth, I want to taste you daddy," you said, making your tongue swirl around the head of his cock. The man moaned louder, jamming his cock deep in his mouth, "Such a slut, such a dirty slut, oh! fuck" you went up and down sucking his cock, as he held your head in place and thrust most of his cock in. in your mouth, cumming deep in your throat. "oh! fuck" he sighed with his forehead against hers, "fuck little girl, I don't think I've ever come this hard in my life" his husky voice made her cheeks flush, bringing out a shyness that hadn't been there a few minutes ago .

"Come here" he said, holding your face and for the first time in the night, his lips touched yours, he could feel the sweet taste of your mouth mixed with his cigarette that you had smoked earlier, he knew it was the new favorite flavor of his and that now that he's tasted the forbidden fruit no other flavor would suffice.

The kiss was slow, despite the few words exchanged you could feel how important his touch was to your stepfather, he licked his tongue and kissed you as if he hadn't had any kind of contact for years. And maybe he hadn't. The kiss was broken by the ringing of the phone. Eddie's naked figure walked away from you, taking the phone in his hands and walking to the bathroom. "yeah, yeah ok, I'll be there as soon as possible", you could hear the muffled sound of Eddie's voice as he cleaned up.

The mess that oozed between your thighs from an untouched pussy was pathetic, you felt your clits throbbing, making you squirm with every little contact of the panties with your button.

When Eddie came back from the bathroom he was fully dressed in his work overalls,

"Sorry dollface, emergency at work" he said leaning down as he spoke to you, he placed a few more kisses on your mouth and your jaw "I'll be right back" one kiss "I don't want you to touch yourself" his fingers circled your clits over her panties "that pussy is mine" in a whisper "you want to be my good girl don't you? my good kitty?" he stood up, making himself look a lot more intimidating.

"yes, yes daddy, I'm your good girl" you said getting up, your half naked body pressed against his, his hands roaming your body, squeezing your ass as he kissed you, taking you with him towards the door "My good little girl", he said, pulling out of your embrace.

"I'll see you later, okay?" he said with his body almost completely out of the house "and, thanks for... for today, I.." you cut him off with a quick kiss on the lips "see you later, daddy", your smile made him melt a little on the doorstep, giving you the sweetest smile you've ever seen on your stepfather's handsome face.

He just waved and closed the door, leaving you alone in a house that wasn't yours, in a city that wasn't yours and thinking about a husband that wasn't yours.

[jongseongsnudes]

twelve.

warning; 😳 1.3k words. masterlist.

if you thought wooyoung was popular, well tonight’s party proved to you just how popular he really was.

the entire beach house was packed by the time it hit 10pm, hundreds of people gathered here to celebrate the man’s birthday. so many popular faces you recognise from around campus but of course the most popular guest of all was lee heeseung.

you’ve seen him here and there since the shirt-drenching incident earlier, the man very busy with the beautiful female crowd somewhere in the living room since then. every time you looked, he had a different girl but really, you expected nothing less.

while you being you, was already tired two hours into the party, wanting nothing more than to run away to the comfort of your designated room upstairs.

“girlie you look so pretty tonight!” eunji drapes her arm over your shoulders, the girl obviously not sober anymore, “too bad yeonjun couldn’t make it tonight huh?”

you know eunji wanted you to look good but her choice of outfit for you was really out there, barely covering anything it was supposed to. it definitely made you feel pretty though.

“too much talking and not enough drinking my pretty ladies!” wooyoung suddenly appears beside you, in his hand three red cups full to the brim, “bottoms up for the birthday boy!”

you down the entire cup for the boy, your fourth one actually and it was all starting to creep up on your very lightweight ass.

“now for shots!”

you internally gulp at the sight of wooyoung pouring a line of 9 shots on the kitchen bench, knowing damn well you couldn’t handle one right now let alone three. you were about to come up with an excuse when lo and behold, heeseung arrives... to your rescue.

for the second time today.

“did the birthday boy forget about me already?” heeseung playfully knocks into wooyoung, the two joking around before downing four shots each in a blink of an eye. leaving just one shot for dear eunji and thankfully, none for you.

you make a run for it when they’re all busy chatting, the massive bed upstairs immediately welcoming you in, your entire body and throbbing head finally able to relax. only for half an hour though because your nap is unfortunately interrupted by a sudden knock on the door.

“hee- heeseung?”

it’s hard to miss the way he’s kind of slouching at your door, eyes blinking at a much slower pace. like he can’t keep focus at all.

he stares at you for a second, the man looking hesitant before continuing, “i need to hide from wooyoung.”

that’s all you needed to hear to understand. wooyoung had been drowning everyone in his path with alcohol the entire night, literally, so you didn’t blame heeseung for wanting to hide.

it’s obvious that he had drank a fuck ton more since you last saw him downstairs, his cheeks now slightly red like the red in his eyes. he was definitely not very far off from blacking out.

“uh- yeah of course come inside.”

he makes himself comfortable on the small couch while you’re left slightly nervous at his very sudden presence in your room. you were now completely alone with heeseung, something you were praying wouldn’t happen tonight...

and something very dangerous with how tipsy you both currently were.

“are you... okay?” you slowly approach him, your own damn mind barely able to keep focus with all the alcohol running through you. you weren’t exactly drunk either but it’s coming. “want me to grab you anything?”

“just needed to rest a bit but the other rooms were occupied. sorry.”

“n- no it’s fine heeseung. just rest.”

he gives you a nod of acknowledgement and closes his eyes to do as told. it’s weird, to say the very least, having to act like strangers after being in such an intimate relationship for months.

you would’ve liked to say that you were over it, having ended things weeks ago. you really tried but you’re not. evident with how you’ve been feeling after seeing him again today.

you weren’t in love with him, but you definitely liked him more than you should’ve. and the fucked up thing is that you might actually still do.

“are you okay?” his voice breaks your thoughts, just to see him staring at you now, “you’re just standing there.”

“ye- yeah i’m fine,” you take steps closer to him without knowing it, your knees now almost touching, “thanks... for the four shots earlier.”

“you mean seven.”

“what! wooyoung is insane! how is he alive??”

you both fall into a fit of laughter, the light atmosphere makes you nostalgic of older times. yes it was toxic but there were times when you and him simply enjoyed each other’s company, being in each other’s hold, laughing away at stupid things. you fell for that heeseung but now you question if that was even the real him or not.

“sit down. you don’t look well.”

“yeah...” you awkwardly chuckle, “drank a bit too much as you can see.”

you’re not sure why you can’t seem to take your eyes off him. it had been this way since he got here and more obvious during the party, where you found yourself randomly scanning the room for him. it was unintentional but you kept doing it.

and now he’s sitting right there, staring up at you with that gaze you knew so well. the one that tells you he wants you, right at this moment.

taking a deep breath, you decide it’d be best to leave before something unwanted happens. so you do what you must, turning away so fast that you immediately lose balance and brace for the dramatic fall.

the fall does come, but not in the way you expected.

someone’s arms are suddenly around you, hugging you tightly against their chest as you both fall onto the ground. thankfully he spins you just in time to prevent any injuries to the face but at this point, you’d rather get knocked out cold on the ground than be in such an unnecessary situation with lee heeseung.

you’re now both on the floor with you in his embrace, your face buried in his chest. as if you weren’t intoxicated enough, the mixture of his familiar cologne and all the drinks he had tonight were only making it worst for your head.

“i think you’re drunk.”

his words make you move away from his chest, eyes finally meeting his, “honestly i think so too heeseung.”

laughter fills the room again, the two of you too in the moment to mind the specific position you’re both in right now. until one wrong movement causes him to lean in a tad closer, your faces now barely a breath apart.

well shit.

everything that happened today seemed like some sort of test given specifically to you. to see if you’d crack. to see if you’d go back to old ways. as if seeing him topless wasn’t bad enough, you’re now literally trapped under the man with his eyes focused on you and his lips seemingly waiting...

waiting to be kissed.

“heeseung-”

“you look so beautiful tonight...” he interrupts you, words kind of slurring as his hand moves away the loose hair on your face, “my heart is going crazy.”

his words could’ve been a result from how drunk he was and you supposed your actions could also be from how drunk you were.

because now you’re kissing him. his lips feel exactly how you remembered them to be, so soft and so plump.

and so damn desperate for yours.

end.

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