#both prev and prev prev are so correct ->

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death. Pt 2

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"Robin!" Orcale cried through the coms, startling Damian as he ducked beneath a punch thrown his way. Growling, Damian Sparta kicked the goon before him, spun around, and throat-punched the last one standing.

"What?" he huffed, glancing around his area to see if he had missed something; Father was facing off against Penguin, Tim was taunting Mr. Freeze, and Jason was plowing his way through the rest of the goons down on the ground floor.

Gunshots flashed by and up toward the roof, drawing his attention.

Turning around, Damian watched as Dick jumped from the rafters and dropped two other goons with brutal precision, their guns clattering to the ground. That's four. He could still hear Steph and Cass fighting in the other room over the comms, which makes it six. (Seven if he counted Duke, who was at home resting after a long patrol) They were still up and fighting, which meant nothing was out of place.

"Your boyfriend wouldn't happen to be named Daniel Fenton, right?" Barbara's voice was strained. She practically begged him to correct her and prove she was mistaken.

Damian tensed up but rushed over to help down the goons surrounding Dick, his heart thundering away in his chest. "What happened?" he growled, drawing his katana when a goon quickly pulled a knife. The sound of metal against metal almost blocked her voice, but Damian could still make out what she said.

"He's been taken by some cultists, they're broadcasting everything. They're setting up the ritual right now; they cut his arm and are using his blood mixed with black paint to mark the ground. I'm pretty sure he's in shock, he barely reacted to the cut."

"Oh, shit!" Steph cursed, "not the boyfriend!"

"Where?" he grunted, parrying the knife away and kicking the guy over the railing. The man's scream cut out as his body hit the floor. "Robin!" Father hissed in anger, quickly tying up Penguin.

"He'll live!" Damian shouted back as he marched toward the door and reached for his grapple gun, "Oracle! Where is he?"

The others could finish up here without him, they had already dealt with what the two rouges had been planning. All that was left was to gather up the goons and hand everyone over to the GCPD. His boyfriend, who hadn't texted him to tell him he had gotten home safe because apparently he'd been kidnapped by cultists, was more important than beating the crap out of some lowly goons.

"The Financial District, warehouse seven on 4th street." she huffed, the sound of keys clicking as she sent him the live footage. Clicking the side of his mask, he was met with the sight of his boyfriend bound to a chair and glaring up at the camera. His blue eyes were filled with more annoyance than fear, but that didn't reassure Damian at all when the camera backed up and revealed Danny's heavily bleeding arm.

They must have cut an artery with how deep the wound looked. The only reason he wasn't already dead from blood loss was because of how tight the ropes were, it seemed.

"Shit," Damian hissed as he shot his grapple up at the building across the street, "make sure an ambulance is en route, Danny's going to need it. They must have cut through his radial artery if not both."

He could hear Dick hold back a gasp at his words but ignored it, as he flew toward the roof and started running. A loud thud landed behind him, followed by footsteps as Father's gruff voice echoed into his ear as they ran. "Jets on its way, it'll be faster than the car." Damian silently changed direction, continuing to jump roofs.

"I'm coming with," Dick demanded, landing a couple buildings behind them. Damian grunted in acknowledgment, not caring what they did. He needed to be there, he needed to be there thirty minutes ago; when he should have been walking Danny home like he asked him too.

"GOTHAM!" the person holding the camera shouted with a slip of paper in their other hand, allowing the camera a glimpse of the words. Danny's eyes narrowed even more, something like disbelief filling his eyes as the man continued talking, "Tonight, you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

"Danny looks so disappointed," Dick snorted, pulling out his own grapple at the sound of the jet approaching. Of course, Danny was disappointed, it was a waste of paper just to remember so little. Damian agreed but couldn't do anything other than huff at his brother's comment, most of his focus on watching the video.

Dick wrapped an arm around him, firing at the jet just as it rocketed overhead. They were launched into the air and dragged over buildings as the jet flew toward their destination. Father dangled across from them for a second before the three of them latched onto the rail under the jet designed for quick departure. They sat in silence as all three of them focused back on the video feed.

"Now," the leader shouted, coming into view as the cameraman backed up. Danny and the freshly painted circle were in full view, but so was the group of people off to the side. Damian recognized two of the people on the ground. Nancy and Wyatt, Danny's forcibly appointed college guides or "parents".

Damian remembers the day Danny had been introduced to them, spouting vitriol in anger about them being acephobic and how the college wouldn't allow him to switch guides. Nancy was crying, her mascara running down her face. Wyatt was deathly pale, all the blood bleeding away from his face as he watched the cultists in what looked like horrified guilt.

"Let us begin," the leader cheered, grabbing Danny's shoulders from behind him. Danny glanced worriedly at the group and then at the camera like he couldn't decide what he should focus on, subconsciously cringing away from the man behind him.

"Join me as we summon our lord and savior!" Danny narrowed his eyes in anticipation, "The great tyrant of the dead!" he now looked confused, "The embodiment of war and bloodshed!" back to worried, "The one named PARIAH DARK!" amused, because of course, his boyfriend would find the name amusing, "THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!" now he was back to confused and worried.

The leader turned and walked back over to one of his followers, snatching an old book and opening it. Without any fanfare, the man began chanting, guiding his followers like he was the director of a twisted play.

"ten minutes," Father grunted, "Oracle, get everything you can on the ghost king. We need to know what we're about to run into. Call someone from Dark, we'll probably need their guide on how to deal with this."

Dick readjusted his grip, tightening his arm in reassurance as Danny's eyes glanced up and toward the rafters like he was looking for one of them. No, not like. He was looking for them; because Damian had promised him in the past that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. And if not them then he would. Danny had rolled his eyes at the time, sarcastically calling him his hero. But he believed him because Damian had promised.

Damian growled as one of the cultists smashed a bowl on the ground, splattering Danny in what he had to assume was the blood and paint mixture Barbera had told him about earlier.

Damian watched as Danny glared at the black stains all over his front with disdain, trying to mutter something through the gag in his mouth the camera couldn't catch. "Is he seriously worried about his shirt?" Tim huffed over comms, the sound of police sirens growing louder.

"I would too if that's the only nice shirt I had," Steph grumbled before shouting something at someone.

"My boyfriend owns more than one shirt, Spoiler." Damian hissed.

"No offense, Damian," Steph laughed, "but your boyfriend looks like he crawled out of a dumpster after losing a fight against one of your raccoons."

"Oh, give him a break! The poor boy's just been kidnapped, of course, he looks bad." Barbera chided.

Damian went to respond but stopped to watch as another cultist stepped forward and tossed salt at Danny. Danny shook his head and glared at the cultist, only to be slapped in the face with another handful of salt for his efforts.

"That's one way to rub salt in the wound," Jason huffed, "make sure you kick that one in the dick for me."

"With pleasure," Damian grumbled, leaning back to try and see the warehouse they were heading toward. "Seven minutes," Father added, noticing how impatient Damian was starting to get.

they silently watched as the cultists continued chanting, Barbera occasionally telling them things she'd found. (She was having difficulty connecting with The Dark members, something about an unexpected mission off-world.)

Danny was starting to look tired, his face paler than usual (A hard feat, considering his boyfriend looked like a fresh corpse on a good day. If he didn't know any better, he would think his boyfriend had never spent a second in the sun his entire life.)

Suddenly, Danny started to cough, shaking his head, clenching his eyes closed in pain for a second before focusing back on the leader. "The blood loss is starting to catch up to him," Tim commented as Danny glanced up at the rafters again, "let the hospital know to have extra blood ready."

"Got it," Barbera agreed, still typing away. "No one's answering, I'm going to try Constantine, now."

"Two minutes," Father warned, getting ready to jump. Damian steadied himself, leaning forward to time his jump correctly. "Shit," Jason cursed, drawing Damian's attention back to the video in time to watch as a cultist raised a bloody blade into the air and slammed it into Danny's chest. "You need to get there, now!"

The cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who was now standing in front of Danny. Danny's chest quickly stained red, his eyes wide in shock and horror.

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!" the leader's voice echoed in the silent warehouse like a gunshot. but Damian couldn't hear a single word the man spoke as he watched Danny lean forward in pain, trying to grab at his chest.

His restrained hands pulled against the rope, causing more blood to leak from his wound, his eyes clenching shut as his left hand started glowing green. He suddenly started screaming, his voice strained like it was being ripped out of his throat, barely muffled by the gag.

A bright light flashed, spreading from where he'd been stabbed and crawling over his body. His skin turned gray, almost blue, like a body found out in a snowstorm. His hair started floating in an absent current like he was underwater. and his eyes started glowing a bright blue, growing brighter and brighter.

"NOW!" Father shouted, launching off the railing and gliding through the air. Damian didn't hesitate to follow, all his training allowing him to go on autopilot as he used his cape to guide his fall.

Danny slumped forward, his head hanging limp as the warehouse went deathly silent.

Twisting in the air, Damian aimed his grapple hook and fired. It latched onto the warehouse and tugged him forward, his fall turning into a swing as he rocketed toward the glass window. "Your Highness?" someone asked, their voices glitching in and out with the video feed.

Damian watched as the Danny in the video slowly lifted his head in time with the Danny he could see through the quickly approaching glass. Damian only had a split second to register that his boyfriend's eyes were no longer blue, but bright green before his feet smashed through the window and he was landing in a roll on the ground.

Immediately, the camera feed disappeared from his view, allowing him to focus on what was around him. Father crashed through the skylight, showering the cultists in glass as he landed on the other side of the room. Dick landed next to him, fluidly popping up from his roll.

"Shit!" someone shouted, "it's the bats!"

"run!" someone else yelled.

Damian lunged forward, burying his fist into the first cultist's face with a satisfying crunch. The warehouse flooded with loud screams and rapid movement.

"Dammit!" the leader cursed, dragging Damian's attention over to him. He had left the circle at some point, crazily looking around to try and find a quick exit.

Abandoning the cultists he was fighting, Damian quickly sprinted at the man. Unsheathing his katana, Damian attacked. The leader used the bloody knife to parry, scrambling back to get away. Damian growled, about to follow when his eyes landed on Danny's black and blood-stained face right behind the man.

Bright Lazarus green eyes stared back.

~

Danny's vision tilted, or was that just his head? It felt like he was in one of those twisty things NASA shoves their astronauts in under the claim of training for departure and reentry into Earth's atmosphere. or maybe it felt like a hundred pounds of soaked cotton balls shoved behind his eyes and lit on fire?

he couldn't tell, at this point, his head could be detached for all he knew. Wait, no. He's done that before, this feels nothing like that. So, he still had his head... but does his head still have a body???

He would glance down, but he's afraid he won't be able to lift his head again... Had he lifted his head? or had the world moved around him like it does in the realms? Where was he?

Danny's core pulsed in confusion as someone stepped over the circle, quickly followed by someone else. No one was supposed to enter unless a deal was about to be made. Had he made a deal?

Blinking, he focused his blurry vision as much as he could on the figure slowly approaching him. Had he already been looking at them? His vision tilted again, making his gut roll in nausea. A voice slowly broke through the static ringing in his ears, and his shirt suddenly pulled in frightened hands.

"Your Highness! these are the sinners I told you about!" the voice screeched, a pitch so out of the norm that Danny could only assume the voice belonged to a small fly-turned-eldritch little girl.

Wait a moment, that was his title? Your Highness? seriously? Was everyone going to be calling him that? He was the king; wasn't it supposed to be majesty??? He'll ask Dora later; now wasn't the time.

"Oh great ghost king!" the high-pitched voice cracked and lowered back to one he was starting to get familiar with, "Pariah Dark, lend me your power so I might defeat him!"

Did he seriously just call Danny, Pariah??? The man, the leader of the cult, Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem, kneeled in front of Danny, his hands twisted into Danny's ruined shirt. The blurry figure froze, not moving now that Danny had broken eye contact to look down at the horrible man.

Danny might be completely out of it and have no idea what's going on anymore, (he was in so much pain, why was there so much pain? he wanted it to go away, why wasn't it going away?) but he's been trained for moments like this. He can't let anyone see him as weak, not when he has to protect the realms as is his kingly duty.

Clockwork thought it would be a good idea to drop him in the middle of a meeting with some demons right after Danny had pulled an all-nighter and fought three of his rouges. let's just say, Danny was not pleased with the old goat after that. On the other hand, every time he meets a new demon, they seem to respect him much more than before. (he's still not sure what he did to earn that, but whatever)

So, acting like nothing was wrong would be easy peasy.

Sitting up straight, like Dora taught, Danny gazed down at the man who had demanded his attention. He turned his jaw intangible, dropping the gag and allowing him to speak freely again, "why should I?" His voice was echoey, cold, and devoid of the usual emotion.

It was completely different than what it usually was. Like he was a completely different person. (He sounded like Dan) which caught Danny off guard, but he had to ignore it for now. Clockwork had said that Danny Phantom was different from King Phantom, maybe this is what he meant. (hopefully not, he hated sounding like Dan. Was this permanent? was he always going to sound like this???)

"Why?" the leader stumbled, letting go of Danny's shirt in surprise, "because I summoned you! I control you!"

He looked outraged like it was Danny's fault he was in this mess.

Snorting, Danny smirked at the man. "Why should I lend you my power when you haven't even gotten my name correct?" That was like common summoning courtesy 101, right? Frostbite said something like that... or was it Pandora? Wait... wasn't that the demon etiquette? What was the ghost-summoning etiquette then? Also, could he even lend his power to someone else??? like, demons could, but could Danny???

"Who cares!" the man snapped, picking up the knife he had dropped next to him and slashing it at Danny. He didn't even have to think as he instinctively turned his right arm intangible and snatched the man's wrist, clenching it tightly to make him drop it. He was not going to let the man stab him again, thank you very much.

his core grumbled in annoyance, scattering his thoughts for a moment. What was he doing? his arm burned like it had been shot with an ecto blast, but that wasn't right, it was cut by-

Oh, right. cultists. Gotta deal with that.

Fazing the ropes off, Danny carefully stood up. An almost silent whine drew his attention up; it was the fuzzy figure, or now that Danny could actually see a little easier, Robin. Huh, looks like the bats actually made it after all. A little late to the party, but oh well.

Wait...

Shit, he didn't need the Bats up in all of his business. Especially since everything the ritual did to him was recorded, the ghostly stuff included. (Was Damian watching? Did he think Danny was dead now? a normal person would have died right?) He'd have to clear up any misinterpretations later, right now he has to focus on gaslighting the Fuck out of Batman and his partners.

Maybe he won't even have to deal with the Justice League if he pulls this off.

ok, what do they think the situation is? A Cult recording themselves sacrificing some random dude, the dude gets stabbed in the chest (probably assumed dead, he'll have to fix that...), then some ghostly shit happens, and the dude has glowing eyes... which basically lines up with the socially accepted symptoms of possession.

Cool, cool, cool. Danny'll just act like he's possessing himself then. No need to make it weird. Or reveal that he's a halfa.

...

How the fuck was a ghost king, who for all intents and purposes, knows nothing about mortal life, supposed to act when possessing a random body????? does he call it his body?? vessel? homing beacon?

"-leas me this intance! I summoned you, you listen to me! ME! I summoned you. Therefore, you have to do as I say!" the leader's voice broke through Danny's thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Again. Man, he seriously needs to get his shit together. Maybe it was the blood loss, they had cut him pretty badly earlier...

Sighing, which hurt a lot actually... he should probably fix that. Mentally shrugging, Danny allowed his ectoplasm to heal his wounds, which in turn settled his core a lot more than he expected. Maybe he shouldn't suppress it so much in the future... OR he should, and just not allow himself to be used in other rituals. Yeah, that's probably it. Man, he's going to have to talk with Frostbite after this is all over.

"You know nothing of which you speak, mortal," Danny grumbled, turning slowly to examine the warehouse. The bats had been fast, or Danny was just really out of it, because not only were all the cultists knocked out but the other hostages were gone.

"I know enough!" the man screeched, hitting his free fist against Danny's arm in an attempt to get Danny to release him. The only thing that was going to do was leave a bruise. Robin growled almost silently in response, which was weird. Why would Robin be upset about this man hitting Danny? or was he more upset along the lines of believing the random "hostage" Danny is "possessing" being hurt?

Yeah, that was probably it. All right, time to act all Ghost Kingly or whatever. If he was about to do something stupid then Clockwork would intervene. Since he hasn't so far, Danny was taking this as the old man giving his permission to proceed.

"Stop bruising my new favorite vessel, or I'll show you why it's a bad idea to mess with the dead." Danny hissed, pulling the man up so they were eye to eye. (it wasn't that hard, considering Danny was short as fuck. Who knew dying would stunt your growth?)

The man leaned back, his eyes wide in fear. His face turned green, or was that just the light from Danny's eyes? how bright were they glowing???

Oh, right, old ghost king, you need to focus here Danny.

Rolling his eyes, Danny harshly (not as hard as he could have though, even if he wanted to punt the man into the sun) tossed the man out of the circle and toward Robin. Nightwing, who Danny had just noticed was also there, quickly rushed over and wrangled the man over to the pile of cultists and tied him up.

"Your vessel," Batman grunted, stepping up to stand next to Robin. (Danny wasn't sure when, but Robin had left the circle. Which meant they probably had someone with magic experience telling them what to do now.)

"Yes, mine," Danny huffed, slowly turning to study the broken windows. his head was killing him, like four migraines stuffed into one killing him...

Do they not know how to use a door? Like, how often do they break through windows? Like, sure, it probably saves them a few extra seconds during a fight, but seriously? Do they at least pay the owners back for the property damage?

"He's not yours," Robin hissed, unsheathing his katana. Batman rested his hand on his shoulder, likely to warn Robin from doing something stupid.

Lifting his brow, Danny glanced down at his body. Did Robin know him? Or was he really just that protective of the people in his city? Even though Danny wasn't technically a Gothamite? He remembered Damian telling him at one point that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. Hmm, yeah, probably just very protective of the people in their city then.

Danny was the same way when he was Phantom; those tourists might not be native Amity Parkers, but they were his tourists. So back off, ghost number 700 of the week. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, that's probably it.

"He," oh wow, speaking about himself was so weird, "was used as a sacrifice to summon me, which makes him mine." Ignoring the fact that his body belonged to him beforehand because, again, this is his body, but you know, can't tell them that. Also, even if this was someone else's body, it'd technically be Danny's. Look, being the ghost king meant Danny owned a lot of weird things, one of those being literally anyone's dead body. (He refused to think about the fact that Pariah had technically owned his body.)

Glancing up, Danny watched as Batman tightened his grip on Robin's shoulder. "Release his body at once, you lowly demonic pit waste! His body-"

"OK!" Nightwing cut in, clapping his hands. "How about this," he glanced at Robin and then back at Danny, clearly nervous about Robin's outburst. Also, what the hell was pit waste? Like, obviously Robin was insulting him, but he could have at least used an insult Danny would understand.

Also, why was Robin insulting a supposedly all-powerful king of the dead? Wasn't he supposed to be one of the more rational vigilantes? Maybe he just got emotional when he thought he failed to protect someone? Which is completely understandable, Danny did not react well when he failed to keep someone safe.

"We apologize for any wrongdoing Robin's words have caused. You willingly go back to your realm, leave your vessel's body behind, and we" he gestured at himself and the other two, "don't get other magic users involved? how does that sound?"

"Is that a threat?" because seriously, that sounded exactly like a threat. Did they seriously not know how to talk to other dimensional beings? Shouldn't they, as Justice League members, know how to diplomatically converse with others? Especially ones that could kill them with a glance? (like, Danny obviously wouldn't do that, but come on!)

His core stuttered again, drawing his attention to the fact that Danny was running out of power to keep up whatever transformation he'd taken on. Which was weird because he's obviously not in his ghost form, so why was it so draining??? And there's plenty of ectoplasm in the air, so, like, this was just ridiculous.

"Whatever," Danny huffed, looking down to study the circle as Nightwing started waving his hands in denial. "I already healed the vessel, he'll technically live." He could feel the pull it had on his core, which meant he had no idea what would happen once it was broken. Would he feel the same things he felt earlier? or would it just be like letting go of someone's hand?

Man, he was too tired for this crap. He wanted to go home and sleep. maybe steel his boyfriend's hoodie and cuddle with Cujo.

You know what? Danny didn't care, he should just break the circle and act like nothing happened. Yep, that's the plan. Still, he should probably prepare for if something goes wrong, you know, like passing out.

Carefully, both because the world was still kind of spinning around him, and to keep the bats from reacting badly, Danny made his way to stand in front of the Vigilantes. They should have quick reflexes; if he passes out, they should be able to catch him, right?

Without warning, Danny dragged his shoe over the line and broke the circle. Immediately his core hissed and all of his energy disappeared. Crumpling forward, Danny barely processed the sight of Robin's panicked lunge to catch him before everything turned dark and his body felt on fire.

Next

[tojicide]

chapter three ── pepper spray.

the spider’s sense: a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb 𝑥 fem!reader.

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

tags/warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies, credit to @/haven__ly on x for the middle pic, mdni

chapter summary. ┆ caleb tries to adapt to his newfound role as the web-slinging hero of linkon city, and you receive the opportunity of a lifetime.

chapter warnings. ┆ slightly sexually suggestive content and a little bit of bodily harm…… but nothing too crazy i swear!

prev: chapter two. ┆ series masterlist. ┆ next: chapter four.

“Aw, come on. Again?”

Caleb feels like he’s been at this for hours. Realistically, it’s been four minutes—maybe five—but time stretches a bit slower when all you do is fail.

He straightens up, tugging at the red ski mask that clings to his face. Despite the crisp morning air, the layers he’s wearing are doing him no favors. The mask in particular is itchy, tight, and, if he’s being honest, suffocating. Maybe you were right—maybe he did have big head syndrome.

But he pushes that thought aside, rolling his shoulders back and planting his feet firmly against the rooftop. With careful precision, he flicks his wrist toward the corner of Mama Louisa’s Pastry Shop—a well-loved business by both himself and every other Linkon University student running on caffeine and sugar. Hopefully she won’t mind him using her bakery as a makeshift training ground.

He tenses his wrist again, and finally—finally—a strand of silk shoots from his pulse point… only for a gentle breeze to carry it away like it’s nothing more than stray thread from a sweater.

Caleb exhales sharply through his nose. Okay. That’s fine. Progress is progress.

He tries again. Fails again, too.

But then, on his next attempt, something changes. He can feel it. A flick of his wrist, the perfect angle with just the right amount of tension.

Thwip!

The web sticks, thick and sturdy like the ones he’d shot in his dorm room, right against the bakery’s awning.

Caleb grins so wide it could rival the Empire State Building. He doesn’t fully understand why this is happening—these heightened senses, the silk-slinging, the unnatural strength—but if his research means anything, it all traces back to the spider bite in the university lab. Probably. If he were to be honest, it’s more of an educated guess for the moment.

Without thinking twice, he sprints forward and leaps from the rooftop. In hindsight, thinking twice might’ve been a good idea, because when he goes to shoot another web at the next building, his aim is—how should he put this?—gods awful.

The silk completely misses its mark, latching onto a birch tree instead. And before Caleb can course-correct, he goes slamming into it face-first.

BAM!

Leaves rustle. Branches snap. Somewhere, a pigeon squawks in alarm, and it might be simultaneously scolding Caleb in a language he can’t understand.

He groans, peeling himself away from the tree trunk, only to find himself tangled in a mess of twigs and leaves.

“Mister!”

He blinks, his brain still rattled from the impact.

“Mister! Down here!”

It takes a second for his senses to recalibrate, but once they do, he follows the tiny voice downward until his gaze lands on a little girl standing at the tree’s base. She looks no older than five, her curly hair swallowing her small face as the wind ruffles through it. Despite her tiny stature, she stands with her hands on her hips, staring up at him with a look of determination.

She points upward. “Can you get Mr. Pickles? He’s scared of heights.”

Caleb blinks again, squinting in the direction of her tiny finger.

And there, perched precariously on a flimsy branch, is a scrawny grey cat.

“Mr. Pickles?” he mutters, already moving before he can think twice. (And this time, that was a good thing.)

His fingers stick effortlessly to the tree bark as he climbs, his static cling allowing him to crawl along the surface like he was made for this. He scales the trunk with ease, reaching the trembling feline in a matter of seconds.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he coos, slowly wrapping an arm around the cat and tucking him securely against his chest. “You’re alright. No need to be scared now.”

Once he makes his way back down, he lands gracefully on his feet, adjusting the cat in his arms before handing him off.

The little girl grins, cradling Mr. Pickles like he’s the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, mister!”

Caleb smiles. “No problem, sweetheart.”

She beams up at him before dashing back toward a nearby apartment building. “I’ll give Mr. Pickles a hug for you!”

“Make it extra warm for me, yeah?”

“Okay!”

And just like that, she’s gone, disappearing behind the lobby doors with her newly rescued companion.

The air is cold, the streets quiet. No sirens, which was a luxury these days. The perfect time for a peaceful stroll.

Or, in Caleb’s case, the perfect time to fail at web-slinging.

That was fine, though. No one saw.

Except for a small child who owned a runaway cat.

Caleb walks down the sidewalk in an attempt to forget about the embarrassment of the moment, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie, the ski mask still clinging uncomfortably to his face. The whole city feels half-asleep, barely stirring under the early sun, and for once, Caleb lets himself enjoy it. Well, as much as he possibly can enjoy something after a morning of throwing himself at trees and towards buildings.

“Excuse me, young man?”

Caleb halts, turning to find an elderly woman peering up at him through thick-framed glasses, her wrinkled face pulled into a look of concern. She clutches a tote bag to her side, a plaid scarf wrapped neatly around her hair.

“I just saw you help that young girl, and I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest dry cleaners,” she asks, adjusting her grip on the bag. “I swear, my memory is getting worse by the day. It’s around here somewhere, I just can’t seem to—”

“Oh, yeah, it’s just a few blocks down,” he gently interrupts, gesturing toward the street corner. “Take a left at the bakery right over there and then it’s right past the old bookstore. Can’t miss it, I promise.”

The woman sighs in relief. “Oh, you’re an angel, thank you! I was walking in the wrong direction for who knows how long.”

Caleb chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Happens to the best of us.”

“I hope you have a wonderful day, sweetheart,” she says, already turning to go in the direction he’d gestured to.

He offers a charming smile that reaches his eyes. “You too, ma’am.”

And with that, he continues down the sidewalk, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s funny, really. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but he actually enjoys this aspect of his new predicament more than he originally anticipated. Helping people, even if it’s just with the small stuff. Before, it seemed like those opportunities were fleeting, and now, they laid around him in abundance. 

Then, just as he’s about to take a right onto the next block…

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!

His head snaps toward the alleyway up ahead. A car alarm wails through the narrow space between buildings, the sharp noise sending a jolt of electricity straight down his spine.

And before he can think—before he can even process what was going on—his legs are already moving. Maybe that was a new impulse that the spider bite had brought upon him, too.

He sprints into the alley, heart hammering wildly in his chest, and that’s when he sees him.

A man hunched over the driver’s side door of an old blue sedan, hands fumbling with a crowbar against the handle. He’s working fast—too fast and too irresponsibly—not even sparing a glance over his shoulder as the alarm screeches on.

Caleb doesn’t hesitate. His wrist flicks.

Thwip!

The web shoots out before he even registers it happening, sticking clean onto the man’s hand… and the door handle he was prying open.

“What the—”

The guy jerks back instinctively, only to realize that his hand isn’t going anywhere.

Caleb halts to a stop a few feet away, breathing hard, adrenaline singing through his veins.

Sirens wail in the distance, he then realizes. 

The thief panics, tugging at his hand with increasing desperation. “What the hell? Get this off me, man! What is this—glue?”

Caleb tilts his head, taking a slow step forward. “Tch. What glue do you know that looks like that? You’ve got the mind of a real scholar, you know. Ever thought about givin’ up grand theft auto for Harvard?”

The sirens grow louder.

The man flails now, yanking at his wrist, his feet slipping against the pavement. “C’mon, man, you gotta— you gotta help me out here.”

“Yeah, see, I don’t think I do,” Caleb muses, his heartbeat finally slowing to something steady, something that was almost calm. 

“What are you? A cop?”

Caleb tilts his head. Even through the mask, his deadpan is palpable. “Really, man?” he drawls. “You think I’m a cop?”

The thief scoffs, loud and hard, shaking his head like Caleb is the idiot here. “Tch. Whatever.”

Then, his free hand vanishes into his coat. When it returns to his line of sight, a blade flashes before he even has time to blink. “Don’t make me use this, kid.”

A knife. A whole kitchen knife. Serrated edges, too. Probably stolen. Probably dirty. Probably the worst attempt at a threat that he has ever seen in his entire life.

Caleb gasps. Theatrically. He drops straight to his knees, too, his arms flying up over his head in a show of fake panic. “A kitchen knife? No! No, please spare me!”

The guy nods. “Yeah, that’s right. Just let me go, and—”

Thwip!

The thief jerks, eyes so wide they nearly bulge out of his skull.

And just like that, his mouth is gone.

Well. Not gone, gone. Just… thoroughly webbed shut.

“Mmph! Mm— mmph!”

Caleb straightens up, resting his hands on his hips as he tilts his head, a layer of faux sympathy dripping from his voice. “Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t quite catch it.”

The guy flails once more.

Useless. Helpless. Pathetic.

So pathetic that it almost makes Caleb feel bad. Almost. 

Then the sirens return. They’re more persistent now. Louder. Closer. 

Flashing red and blue swallow the alley, bouncing off the walls like stage lights for the thief’s almost-perfect crime.

The man whips his head toward them. Caleb follows his gaze, then hums, turning back with a single gloved finger pressed over his own masked mouth. 

“Sh.”

He disappears before the first cop even steps out of the car, and as he whisks into the city, slipping between alleyways, a single thought loops through his mind. 

He can do something with this.

Like... really do something. 

Not just helping lost grandmas and rescuing stranded cats.

But this…

This was something that went far beyond what the Linkon PD was capable of: stopping the bad guys before they got away.

And now, he swings with a newfound ease, a confidence that wasn’t there before, flipping between buildings, twisting through the bright glow of billboards. Caleb finally gets it. The mechanics, the rhythm, the thrill of it. The way the city unfolds before him like a playground of concrete and steel.

Beneath him, people point. People cheer. People wonder.

But one man does not wonder.

One man knows.

That man stands just outside a quiet café, his untouched tea steaming in his hands, his sharp gaze never leaving the sky. He was on his way toward the Oscorp building in the distance, his badge reading Dr. Curtis Connors — Head Biologist. 

Unlike the others, he does not gape. He does not cheer.

He only watches.

His glasses slip down his nose as he tilts his head, following the figure’s trajectory with a stare so focused and precise it could slice through bone. His mind moves faster than his pulse. Not a suit. Not a rig. Not a device. No, no—it’s organic. The silk isn’t shot from him. It belongs to him.

His fingers twitch.

Click.

The photo is grainy due to the shakiness of his grip, but the silhouette is unmistakable.

Curtis Connors exhales slowly through his nose, fingers already moving, already typing, already sending. His recipients were none other than the student team who wrote for the medical journalism column in the Linkon University Chronicle. 

Curtis Connors: [image attachment] Find out as much info as you can on this figure.

He watches the message send. Then, he watches as this figure, as blissfully unaware as can be, swings off into the sky—free and untouchable.

For now.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, but you don’t have half the mind to reach for it—not when a sea of sorority girls is already waving you down with welcoming smiles and outstretched arms.

“Tara!” you greet, barely getting the word out before she yanks you into a bear hug that nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“You came!” she squeals. “I totally thought you were gonna back out at the last minute.”

“How could I?” you reply, returning the hug before reaching for Cleo, who wraps her arms around you like she hasn’t seen you in years. “I made a commitment. I had to follow through, even if midterms are coming for my throat and I haven’t touched my biology flashcards in, like… two weeks.”

Tara laughs, shaking her head. “You worry too much. Just relax, have some fun. You deserve it.” Then, she leans in conspiratorially, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Plus… he who shall not be named isn’t even here. I think he bailed. You might actually be Caleb-free today.”

Your eyes widen with a gleam that could outshine a kid in a candy store. A sunny afternoon with your friends? Caleb-free? Total score.

“I love your suit!” Cleo chirps, dragging your attention back to Earth. Her fingers lightly trace the hem of your bikini top. “It suits your skin tone so well. Where’d you get it?”

You glance toward the sky like the clouds might give you your memory back. “Uh… probably Target? Like, two years ago?”

“Well, I’m definitely raiding the swimwear section before Spring Break,” she laughs, handing you a half-full bucket of water. She pauses for a moment, then adds with a grin, “I mean seriously—that top is really working for you.”

You laugh, awkwardly tucking the large bucket against your torso. “Thanks. I thought it might’ve been… too much,” you say, gesturing a hand over your chest.

“No, no!” Tara interjects immediately, hands flying into the air like she’s warding off some curse. “It’s the perfect amount of boobage.”

You eyebrows raise. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she says with full confidence.

Before you can say much at all, Cleo’s voice cuts in like a bullet. “Looks like someone else thinks so too.”

“Someone else? Who…?”

But you don’t finish. Your voice trails off the second your eyes follow her pointed gaze.

Across the lot. Lambda Chi Alpha’s side. Shirtless guys joking and slinging sudsy water at each other like they're in a beer commercial. But your gaze settles on one in particular.

Caleb.

Shirt off. Abs fully present and accounted for—all eight of them, you made sure to count. Somehow looking even better than he did a few days ago, which is rude. Biceps glistening from the sun and suds. Hair a mess in the best possible way. And those arms—Gods, those arms should be studied in a lab.

“Yoohoo?” Tara sings, tapping your forehead like she’s knocking on a front door.

You blink, snapping out of your trance. “What?”

Tara and Cleo exchange an all-knowing look.

“I thought you didn’t want to see Caleb today,” Tara says with a lopsided smile.

“I don’t.”

“And yet…” Cleo gestures broadly, “there you were. Gawking.”

You scoff. “I can dislike someone and still objectively—totally objectively—acknowledge that they might not be the most hideous person to walk the Earth.”

Cleo hums. “Uh-huh. Totally objective.”

“It is an objective observation!”

“Sure, sure,” Tara teases. “Just science. A visual data analysis of muscle definition.”

You sigh, pointing at her. “Exactly.”

. . .

Caleb isn’t faring much better.

In fact, he’s doing worse. A lot worse.

He tries to apply logic to the situation. To rationalize the incredibly logicless mess he has found himself in.

It must be his new senses—yeah, that has to be it. His body adjusting, his nervous system overcompensating, deciding that now, of all godforsaken times, would be a great moment to send every ounce of blood in his body to a very unhelpful location.

His eyes widen, panic rising in his chest.

No. No, no, no. This is not happening.

Almost instinctively, he wrenches himself away from your general direction, physically turning his body like that alone will make his predicament less of a predicament.

It’s not his fault.

Seriously. It’s not.

No amount of superability could ever counteract the very human reality that, at the end of the day, Caleb Xia is just a man.

A man with… an appreciation for certain assets.

And today, his attention seems to have locked onto yours in particular.

Now isn’t the time for this. There would never be a time for this. He feels horrible, like a pathetic schoolboy with zero control over his own body.

Somewhere in his haze of absolute distress, his dog tag ends up wedged between his teeth, because apparently, his body has decided that biting metal is his last line of defense against catastrophic embarrassment.

Gran naked. Gran naked. Gran naked.

He squeezes his eyes shut, practically chanting the words in his head to paint a better picture like a desperate exorcism.

Gran naked. Gran naked. Gran na—

“You’re going to ruin those if you bite on them any harder.”

Caleb’s entire brain short-circuits.

His eyes snap open, locking onto yours. You’re standing there, bucket in your arms, tilting your head at him like he’s some kind of science experiment gone wrong.

He is barely keeping himself together.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

But then, you pout.

“Go on, boy,” you tease, voice dangerously sweet, mockingly condescending, like you’re talking to a dog. “Drop ‘em.”

His entire soul leaves his body. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he finally drops the dog tag from his teeth.

You beam at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair like he actually is a well-trained mutt. “Good boy!”

Caleb scoffs, swatting your hand away. “Shut up.”

You laugh, and he hates how much he likes the sound of it.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” you grin, reaching into the bucket. “Here’s your treat.”

Before he can react, a water-soaked sponge lands smack against his chest with a loud slap.

“You’re the worst,” he grumbles, peeling the sponge off as you shut off the hose and hoist your bucket back into your arms.

“Sure I am,” you chirp. “Good luck, waterboy.”

Caleb huffs, his head snapping up as you begin to walk past him. “The newbie is callin’ me a waterboy? Who brought in the most customers last year again?”

“Blah, blah, blah,” you say through a sigh, waving him off. “Who cares about last year?”

He’s about to counter—because he cares, and his title as reigning champ of the car wash must be defended at all costs—but then, you stop right beside him.

And for the love of all things holy, the air thickens.

You turn slightly, tilting your chin, that same smug glint in your eyes. “I, for one, certainly don’t care about last year. You’ll have to work harder this time around, anyway.”

Caleb narrows his eyes. “Why’s that?”

You don’t answer verbally. With a small sway of your fingers toward the parking lot, you point his attention elsewhere. Delta Gamma’s station currently had a long, ever-growing line of cars. A parade of eager customers at your fingertips.

Caleb exhales slowly. “Ah.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum knowingly.

And then you look him over. Blatant in a way that makes him shiver. Up. Down. Unrushed. Deliberate. Unfair.

And then, just like that, you pivot on your heel. “Gotta go.”

Before you can fully escape, his hand catches your wrist.

“Hey, hey, hey— not so fast,” he murmurs, voice dropping just slightly. Just enough. “If you’re so confident… maybe we should bet on it.”

You stop and turn back toward him. There’s a competitive glint in your eye. It’s exciting. 

And unfortunately, it’s doing nothing to help with the currently unsolved issue in his shorts.

“Alright.” It takes zero hesitation. The opportunity to publicly defeat Caleb Xia is simply too good to pass up. “You’re on.”

His lips curl into an almost-there smile. “Terms?”

Your smile should be legally registered as a deadly weapon. “Loser has to wash the winner’s car… and purposely take a B- on the next lab report.”

Caleb lifts a brow. “You don’t have much to lose.”

You shrug, all casual, all effortless charm, and it’s killing him.

“Nope,” you reply smoothly. “I have everything to gain.”

Caleb should be fighting for his life against whatever spell you’ve just cast over him.

Instead, he falls for it.

(Hook. Line. Sinker.)

“Fine,” he says, sliding his hold from your wrist to your palm, giving your hand a firm shake—his fingers lingering just a little too long against yours.

“You’re on.”

. . .

Caleb should have really thought this through.

But instead, he let you get under his skin, let your smug little grin trick him into underestimating you.

Big mistake, because not even five minutes in, the Delta Gamma girls are practically drowning in customers, and Caleb has barely started scrubbing down his first car.

Caleb squints in your direction. This is not fair.

It feels like only ten minutes pass by before he looks in your direction again, and this time, he finds himself sweating.

Partially from the sun, partially from watching you rinse off a car with zero mercy—your movements way too efficient for someone who supposedly hasn’t done this sort of thing before.

And still, he refuses to lose. He has to switch tactics.

If charm is your secret weapon, then it can be his too. It was his before it was yours, anyway.

He yawns, stretching his arms just enough to get the attention of a group of girls suspiciously and slowly passing by in a yellow slugbug.

"Hey," he greets, sending a smile their way as he leans against the car, muscles flexing just right. "Need a wash?"

And to no one’s surprise but your own, it works.

Unfortunately, by the time the car wash ends, the results are as clear as day—you won.

And now, here Caleb stood—arms crossed, lips pressed into a firm line, trying to accept his defeat.

“So,” he exhales, dragging a hand down his face, “when am I washing your car?”

Your grin turns dangerously smug. “Oh, I don’t have a car.”

Caleb stares at you like his brain needs a full reboot to comprehend what you just said.

“Sneaky.”

You shrug. “I prefer genius.”

"Not cool." Caleb shakes his head, his hands going to his hips. “I don’t like havin’ unpaid debts.”

“Well…” You rock back on your heels, tilting your head at him. “Maybe you can get creative. Find a new way to pay up.”

Caleb arches a brow. “Like?”

You hum, tapping your chin like you’re actually putting serious thought into it. “Hm… bring me coffee from the café every time we have a lecture.”

Caleb scoffs. “You're joking.”

“I'm not.”

He lets out a long, drawn out sigh. “Fine.”

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb knew as well as anyone that crime woke up when the city went to sleep.

So tonight, he stayed up to witness it. Maybe he’d do something good for the city. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he had to try. He had to.

It felt like something was calling to him, something so instinctive and certain that he couldn’t help but listen.

That was how he found himself here, sprawled across the roof of a liquor store, killing time with a game that had no winner. He flicked a pebble toward the ledge, watching as it bounced back near his hand. Again. Again. Anything to keep himself occupied while he listened for any sounds of trouble.

The bell of the liquor store’s entrance rang, and the sudden noise jolted through him, causing his grip to slip. Instead of hitting the ledge, the pebble sailed clean over the rooftop.

“Ouch!”

Caleb froze, and then scrambled to the edge of the roof, yanking his ski mask into place. He peered over the ledge, pulse spiking.

And when he saw who he’d just pelted in the head with a rock, he really should have expected it.

You.

Of course it was you, because why wouldn’t it be?

He watched as you winced, rubbing at the spot where the pebble had struck. You glanced around but, not seeing anyone, just sighed and continued down the sidewalk, bag of groceries clenched in your hand.

And as you walked, Caleb noticed a few things.

The way your pace sped up near the alleys. The way you slowed when you passed under a streetlamp, lingering just a second longer in the light. The way your fingers curled a little tighter around the grocery bag.

You were afraid, and he could understand why.

This wasn’t the best part of the city. It was dark and lonesome, a breeding ground for all things dangerous.

So, without much thinking—without even giving himself the chance to talk himself out of it—he decided to make sure you got home safe.

For purely vigilante reasons, of course.

. . .

You swear you’re not crazy, but someone is definitely following you.

The almost silent breathing. The faint but deliberate footsteps against pavement.

You pick up your pace, but curiosity is a terrible thing, and despite your better judgment, you glance over your shoulder.

And there he is: a shadow perched on the edge of a rooftop. Watching.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

What the hell? Was he… doing parkour? You huff, shaking your head. Not important.

Your pulse spikes, and your body reacts before your mind does. You do the only logical thing you can think of: you bolt.

Your bag slips from your grip, but you don’t have time to care. Every survival instinct you’ve ever had is screaming at you to run.

Like clockwork, the footsteps behind you quicken.

A voice speaks up. “Hey, you dropped your—“

Shrieking, you whip around mid-sprint, finger already slamming down on the trigger of your pepper spray.

The man barely has time to react. He coughs and chokes, stumbling backward like he just got decked in the face. Your groceries fly through the air as he flails, practically throwing them back at you in the process.

“What—” he wheezes, hands clutching his eyes as he coughs again. “What was that for?”

“You…” your breath is coming out in sharp gasps as you clutch the pepper spray tighter. “You were following me!”

He tries to open his eyes, then immediately winces. “I was making sure you got back to campus okay!”

You take a step back, grip still firm around the bottle. “Well… well why the hell did you start running after me when I ran, huh?”

“You dropped your groceries!”

You hesitate because he sounds genuinely frustrated. “Well… don’t do that again, you freak! Don’t you know you shouldn’t follow people home?”

“I wasn’t— I mean, I was, but not for any reason you might be thinking of,” he stammers.

There’s an awkward beat as he forces himself to stand upright again, shoulders tense. Then, as if realizing how bad this looks, he raises his hands in surrender.

“I mean no harm,” he says. And despite everything, he sounds sincere. “This is just… kinda what I do now. I’m looking out for the people of the city.”

You exhale sharply. Then, after a beat, your free hand dips into your grocery bag.

You pull out a bottle of water and toss it to him.

“You should really work on your methods, Spider-Man,” you mutter, shaking your head as your gaze falls down to the spider design on his sweatshirt. As you turn away, you add, "Rinse your eyes. It’ll help."

Your heart is still hammering in your chest as you begin to walk away, but you manage to steady your breathing as you near the dorms. Your mind, however, is still racing.

Because the moment you calm down enough to think, a realization hits you.

The image. The blurry, low-resolution shot that Dr. Curtis Connors sent your group just days ago. The figure looked identical to the man you just encountered. The one he wanted to know more about.

Your stomach drops, and you whirl around, phone in hand with your camera ready. Much to your dismay, the figure is already gone. He has vanished into thin air without leaving so much as a single trace.

You curse under your breath, fingers flying over your phone screen as you open up the message thread.

You: I have a lead. I just ran into him. I think he’s a student at Linkon University.

series masterlist. ┆ next: chapter four.

a/n hi guys :P…. sorry i didn’t update for awhile buuuut here’s chapter 3!!! i wrote and edited some of this chapter with a 103 F fever so… if it’s illegible at any point that might be why. i’d love to know your thoughts so please share them !!! <3

also i just wanted to say that i love all of the comments and messages you guys send into my asks :,) this made me laugh so i really hurried to get this chapter out

taglist. (join it by commenting under this post!)

@leonskenthusiast @universallysoulcreator @devonjs-blog @lacieohlacie @kisswithyoureyesclosed @lovesick-sylus @livonianmaia @hqnge @yuuuumii @mizzfizz @simpfortheseven @nyxthejinx-rantsaboutlads @mariojins @rcvcngers @yizhoupilled @irlsammy @gloomuri671 @risagichi @drinking2nite @seikamuzu @flowers-wilt-on-juniper-lane

@that-one-scoundrel @joy-laufeyson @missaengg @wheatrice @gvenone @desiree-archive @jayhyunglover @flwerie @miffysoo @jijijihanji @ssetsuka @mglwhor3 @sureconfused @vorfreudevortex @honehbee42 @angelbeat994 @codedove @cheesemachine44 @mocha-the-muse @msanimeotaku181 @breadiestpuffs @idkwhatursayinh @hannahchk @rxelarailuj @littlebabyypeach @wooasecret @nikilig @theweevilofsweetreef @etsuniiru

[eternalguk]

Pink Hearts & Black Clouds || jjk. — 02

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : 7K

↠ Warnings : swearing, explicit sexual content, riding, oral (f receiving), breast play, intense makeout, multiple orgasms, pet names, dom!guk x sub!reader, praise kink, both of them have a very filthy mouth …

↠ A/n : Hi there ; here is chapter 2! It’s been so long so I both thank you for your patience and apologise for the delay. Chapter 2 takes more of a fun ride and gives you the perfect insight to how chaotic life is for our doll and Bakugo~ There is a scene that is inspired by the voting scene from Gossip Girl. I just felt that it really worked for the two of them :) Your feedback / comments are always appreciated. Thank you for giving my story a chance & happy reading 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

❧ Chapter 02 : lace & chains

prev. || next  || masterlist

Three days before voting day

You burst into Jungkook’s apartment like a whirlwind, carrying an armful of colourful flyers that threaten to spill onto the floor. Your oversized tote bag clinks as you toss it onto his couch, the sound of perfume samples and random trinkets filling the silence.

Jungkook, seated cross-legged on the couch in his usual black hoodie and shorts, barely glances up from his phone. His dark hair falls messily over his eyes, and his lip ring catches the dim light as he scrolls through his FYP on TikTok.

“I’ve decided,” you announce dramatically, your voice ringing through his apartment. “I’m running for president.”

The statement hangs in the air like a firework that hasn’t yet exploded. Jungkook’s eyes rise slowly from his magazine, his brow arching in disbelief.

“President of what?” he deadpans, leaning back into the cushions.

“Student president!” you exclaim, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You drop your flyers onto the coffee table with a flourish, scattering glitter and pastel-colored paper everywhere.

“Ms. Choi mentioned it today? Were you not listening?” You roll your eyes, taking off your cream bowknot coat.

Jungkook picks up one of the flyers, his tattooed fingers smudging the edge as he squints at it. The text is scrawled in a glittery font so loud it’s practically yelling: Vote for Me, Because I’m Cute! Beneath it is a selfie of you holding a puppy, your face framed by glitter stickers and cartoon hearts.

Whose puppy is that?

“These look like ads for a bake sale,” he says flatly, turning the flyer sideways like it might reveal a hidden agenda.

“They’re campaign flyers,” you correct, hands on your hips.

He gives you a pointed look, holding the flyer up. “It says, ‘Vote for me because I’m cute and I’ll listen to your problems.’”

“Exactly!” you chirp, sitting beside him and crossing your legs. “Who wouldn’t want a cute president?”

Jungkook stares at you, his expression unreadable. “So, you’re running to lead the entire cohort because you’re… cute?”

“And I’m kind,” you add, smiling sweetly.

Jungkook exhales, setting the flyer down like it’s too much for him to process. “You do realise this isn’t just a popularity contest, right? There’s actual work involved.”

“I know that,” you reply with a wave of your hand. “That’s why I have a plan. And guess what? You’re gonna be my campaign manager!”

His laugh is instant and sharp, the kind that makes your pout deepen. “Yeah, no. There’s no way I’m getting involved in this mess.”

“Why not?” you whine, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Because,” he says, shaking his head, “this is doomed from the start. And when it crashes and burns, I don’t want my name attached to it.”

You gasp dramatically, playing with your pearl necklace like he’s insulted your very soul. “I can’t believe you! You’re supposed to support me, not tear me down!”

“I’m trying to save you from yourself,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

But your determination is unshakable. “You’ll see, Koo. I’m going to win, and when I do, you’ll regret not being by my side from the start.”

“You genuinely serious about this?”

“I am! I already told Taehyung and Jimin, and they’re helping me with posters tomorrow!”

That makes him pause. “Taehyung and Jimin?”

“Yes.”

“They’re helping you run for student president?”

“Of course!”

“I regret making you all meet.” Jungkook gulps, rubbing his hands over his face. “This is just going to be a complete train wreck.”

“No, it’s not!” you argue, stomping your foot for emphasis. “I’m going to win, and then you’ll see. Everyone will love me as their president!”

“They already love you,” he says, exasperated.

“Exactly!” You beam, missing the sarcasm in his tone. “So you’re on board?”

He groans, now running his hand through his hair. “Fine. But only so I can stop you from embarrassing yourself too much.”

“Yay!” You jump onto the couch and throw your arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the best!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, though his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “Now come here.”

Two days before voting day

The next day, Jungkook regrets everything.

You’re standing in the middle of campus with Taehyung and Jimin, holding up your new-and-improved campaign posters.

Well, “improved” is a stretch - Jungkook still thinks they look like ads for a daycare. Or was it a bake sale?

He stands stiffly in the middle of campus, hands stuffed into his black cargo pants as you, Taehyung, and Jimin flit around him like chaotic birds.

Taehyung is holding a stack of your revamped posters, and Jimin’s busy tying pink ribbons to the railings of the quad. And you? You’re smiling as though you’re the happiest person in the universe right now.

“Vote for Y/N: She’s cute, and she loves puppies!” Jimin reads aloud, snickering. “This is gold!”

“I do love puppies,” you say proudly, twirling a strand of hair.

Jungkook groans. “This is embarrassing.”

“Don’t be so grumpy, Koo,” Taehyung teases, snapping a picture of you holding up a sign. “You’re dating the future president. Show some pride.”

“Pride,” Jungkook repeats flatly, eyeing the glitter stuck to his hand. “Right.”

You tug on his arm, your lace-trimmed beige cardigan brushing against his tattooed sleeve. “Stop sulking and hand out some flyers!”

He doesn’t move. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you love me,” you say with a wink.

Jungkook groans but walks over anyway, taking a stack of flyers from your hands. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Believe it, Daddy,” Taehyung teases, earning a glare from Jungkook.

“Shut up.”

Taehyung just laughs, holding up his phone to take more pictures of you posing with your flyers.

“Make sure you get my good side!” you call out, striking a pose.

“They’re all your good side,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, though no one hears him.

“Okay, next we need to practice my speech,” you say, clapping your hands together.

“Speech?” Jungkook repeats, already dreading it.

“Yeah, for the debate,” you explain, but not without sending a glare Jungkook’s way.

Obviously there was going to be a speech!

Jimin’s eyes light up. “Oh, now this I’ve gotta see.”

That Same Evening

Later that evening, you’re sprawled out on Jungkook’s couch, surrounded by ribbons and glitter glue as you design yet another poster.

Your lace-trimmed socks dangle off the edge of the couch, while Jungkook sits on the floor, leaning against the coffee table with his laptop. His silver chain necklace gleams under the dim light, a sharp contrast to the pastel chaos surrounding him.

Jungkook is drained.

You, on the other hand, are still buzzing with excitement as you recap your “successful” campaign efforts on the walk home.

“Everyone was so nice!” you gush. “They all said they’d vote for me!”

“Mhm,” Jungkook says, not pointing out that most of those people were just being polite. And because they wanted a homemade brownie…

“And did you see how cute that dog was? I can’t believe I got to pet it!”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“Obviously. Oh, and Jimin said he’d help me edit my speech later tonight!”

Jungkook groans. “Why do I feel like this is going to end in disaster?”

“It won’t,” you insist, grabbing his arm and flashing him a confident smile. “You’ll see, Koo. I’m going to be the best president ever!”

Jungkook sighs. He really doesn’t have the heart to tell you otherwise.

“Why do you want to do this, Doll?” he asks, glancing at you over the rim of his glasses.

“Because it’s fun, Bakugo” you reply, your voice muffled by the pen cap you’re holding in your mouth. “And because I’m going to win.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, though there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. Your confidence deserved to be applauded.

You lean over, poking his cheek with a glittery finger. “You love it.”

He catches your wrist, his grip firm but gentle, and pulls your hand away. “I do love you. This? Not so much.”

Your eyes soften at his words, the teasing grin fading into something quieter. “You really do, don’t you?”

Just a few months ago, you couldn’t have imagined Jungkook looking you in the eyes and saying “I love you” with such steady, unshakable certainty.

He sighs, setting his laptop aside to look at you properly. “Yeah, I do. Even when you’re driving me insane with this campaign nonsense.”

You grin, leaning closer until your nose almost brushes his. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re the best campaign manager ever.”

“I’m not your campaign manager,” he grumbles, but his lips twitch into a smile when you kiss the corner of his mouth.

“You are! We need a team name,” you chirp, gazing off as you try and think of something. “Doll and Bakugo!”

The lace of your cardigan brushes against Jungkook’s heavy chain as you pull back, and for a moment, everything feels like it fits - your softness, his edge, the chaos you bring into his carefully ordered life.

“Lace and chains,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head, not exactly catching what Jungkook had said.

“Nothing.”

But the way he looks at you, with a mixture of exasperation and affection, says everything he can’t.

Voting Day Eve

The campus is filled with students, curiously walking around the hall examining the posters of all the class president candidates. Your station is right at the end, hard to miss due to all the pink.

You’re holding the poster in both hands, eyes wide with determination as you stand in front of Jungkook. “I can’t believe I’m actually running for president!”

Days later, the statement still hangs in the air like an uninvited guest. Jungkook stares at you, unblinking, while Taehyung and Jimin - because, of course, they’re here - exchange looks before bursting into laughter.

No one could believe this was actually happening.

“President? Of what?” Jungkook sarcastically asks, deadpan, voice full of that grunge skepticism that could level buildings.

“Of the whole class, obviously!” you announce, puffing out your chest like you’ve already won. “I’ve even got a - what’s it called - a manifesto!”

Taehyung’s practically chokes on his laughter. “You don’t even know what a manifesto is.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes Tae, I do! It’s, like, when you tell everyone what snacks you’ll bring to meetings and stuff.”

Jimin’s doubled over now, wheezing. “Snacks?!”

Jungkook’s still standing there, arms crossed, watching you like you’re an alien that just crash-landed in his life. “I still don’t get why you’re-. You can barely-” He stops himself, probably realising that anything he says will sound meaner than it’s meant to be.

“I can barely what?” You narrow your eyes at him, ready for a fight.

Jungkook sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can barely decide what to eat for breakfast without flipping a coin.”

“That’s called strategy,” you argue, pointing at him with your infamous glittery pink gel pen. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t benefit from me being in charge. I’d be the people’s president. Free parking for everyone!”

Taehyung raises his hand like a student in class. “There’s no paid parking on campus.”

“Then I’ll invent it! And then make it free again!” you declare triumphantly.

Jungkook groans, running a hand through his messy hair. “You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore.”

But your enthusiasm is unwavering. “Just you wait! I’m going to get elected and change this school forever.”

“What’s your slogan?” Jimin asks, still snickering.

You hold up your poster proudly. On it, in hot pink marker surrounded by glitter stickers, is your face in an unevenly drawn heart. Below it, the words: ‘She’s cute, so vote for her!’

Jungkook stares at the poster for a long moment, then looks back at you. “This is a joke, right?”

“It’s not a joke! Cute presidents are more approachable,” you explain, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what happens if you don’t win?” Taehyung teases.

You gasp, horrified. “I have to win. I’ve already planned my victory speech.”

“Let me guess,” Jungkook says flatly. “It’s just you saying, ‘Thank you for voting for me because I’m cute.’”

You blink at him, offended. “You think I’d be that shallow?”

“Yes,” all three of them say in unison.

You ignore them, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Whatever. When I win, you’ll all be begging me for favours.”

“I can’t wait to see how this turns out,” Taehyung mutters, already texting someone.

Jungkook grabs the glitter-covered poster from your hands, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably presidential,” you correct, snatching it back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a campaign to run.”

Jungkook watches as you march off, shoulders square, your sparkly pen tucked behind your ear like a weapon. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “I can’t believe I’m dating this lunatic.”

“Hey,” Jimin says, leaning closer. “Admit it. You’d vote for her.”

Jungkook scoffs. “I’ve never voted for anyone. A day like that is a day off for me.”

However, later that afternoon, when you’re texting him about poster designs and debate outfits, he replies:

‘You’re an idiot.’

But when he sees your reply - selfie of you holding a new poster that reads ‘Vote for me because my boyfriend’s hot!’ - he can’t help but laugh.

Okay, maybe voting wouldn’t hurt after all.

That Same Evening

You’re walking through the campus courtyard with Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin, your campaign flyers clutched in your hands. The sun has started to dip, and you’re all finally heading home after another long day of plastering your posters everywhere you could think of.

Nearby, a group of students sits in a semi-circle on the grass, casually chatting. At first, you’re too busy laughing at something Jimin said to pay attention, but their conversation drifts over, loud enough for all of you to hear.

“As cute and nice as Y/N is,” one of the students says, their tone hesitant, “I just feel like we need someone serious for student president. Someone who’ll actually get things done.”

Hearing your name, you slow your steps, glancing over curiously.

Another student chimes in, nodding. “Yeah, I mean, she’s sweet and all, but this isn’t just a popularity contest, right? We need someone with a real plan.”

Around them, a couple of others murmur their agreement.

Before you can fully process what’s being said, Jimin throws his arm around your shoulders, tugging you close with a grin. “Y/N! You know what we need to do? Get you a campaign mascot. Like a dog! Or a tiger. You’d look great standing next to a tiger. So fierce!”

You blink up at him, momentarily distracted. “A tiger? Where am I supposed to get a tiger, Jimin?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got connections,” he says, waving his hand dramatically. “Just trust me.”

While you’re occupied with Jimin’s theatrics, Taehyung leans closer to Jungkook, lowering his voice. “You heard that, right? I’ve been hearing stuff like that all day. A lot of people aren’t planning to vote for her. She’ll be crushed.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens as he glances back at the group of students. For a moment, his expression is unreadable. Then he lets out a low breath, shrugging. “Honestly, it might be for the best.”

Taehyung looks at him sharply. “What?”

“She doesn’t realise how much work this is going to be,” Jungkook says, his tone steady, almost detached. “She’s always in her own little world. I don’t think she understands what she’s getting into.”

Taehyung frowns but doesn’t argue. He knows Jungkook too well to push when he’s in one of his gruff moods. “Maybe,” he mutters, glancing back at you.

And there you are, smiling up at Jimin as he spins some absurd story about how he once met someone who owned a pet tiger. Your laughter rings out, light and carefree, completely oblivious to the conversation happening just feet away.

Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you for a moment too long. The corners of his mouth twitch, and something flickers in his eyes - an idea taking shape.

“Actually,” he begins, tone softening ever so slightly, “wait, never mind.”

Taehyung tilts his head, studying him. “You say somet, bro?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He’s already turning away, hands shoved into his pockets, a hint of determination in his stride.

Voting Day

The auditorium buzzes with anticipation as the student body crowds into the seats, the chatter growing louder with every passing second. You’re seated near the front, sandwiched between Jimin and Taehyung, your knee bouncing with nervous energy. Jungkook sits at the end of the row, his arms crossed as he leans back in his seat, his usual stoic expression betraying nothing.

The student council advisor steps up to the podium, clearing her throat as the microphone squeals. The noise quiets instantly, the crowd leaning forward in anticipation.

“Thank you all for joining us,” she begins, scanning the room. “After a record-breaking number of votes this year, it’s time to announce your new student president.”

You suck in a sharp breath, clutching Jimin’s arm in a death grip. “Oh my God, oh my God,” you whisper, your voice high-pitched and shaky.

“You’ve got this,” Jimin whispers back, patting your hand reassuringly. Taehyung gives you a thumbs-up, though his grin is teasing.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He’s staring straight ahead, his jaw tight, his fingers drumming against his armrest.

The advisor opens an envelope, the sound of ripping paper echoing through the silent room. “And the winner, with a significant margin, is…” She pauses, glancing at the paper before smiling broadly. “Y/L/N Y/N!”

For a moment, the words don’t register. The room erupts into applause, some laughter, and you sit frozen, your mouth slightly open as your brain scrambles to catch up.

“Wait… what?” you squeak, turning to Jimin.

“You won, dummy!” Jimin yells over the cheers, shaking your shoulders excitedly.

“I… I won?” you repeat, still stunned.

Taehyung laughs, shoving you out of your seat. “Go! Get up there before they think you passed out!”

Your legs feel like jelly as you make your way to the stage, your heart pounding in your chest. The applause grows louder, and you spot a few familiar faces cheering for you from the crowd.

The cheers from the crowd fill the air, and the stage is lit with bright light. You stand confidently beaming as you clap along with everyone else, your heart racing in disbelief. Flowers are handed to you by random students, and your smile could light up the entire quad.

This is it - the moment you’ve worked so hard for - even though you didn’t expect it to actually happen. But now, standing on the stage in front of all your classmates, your heart is a mix of excitement and pure shock. You don’t know how it happened, but here you are. You’ve won.

The advisor hands you the microphone, her smile encouraging. You glance out at the sea of faces, your eyes wide and slightly panicked.

“Erm… hi?” you say nervously, your voice echoing through the room.

The crowd laughs, and you relax slightly, your trademark grin breaking through. “I honestly don’t know what to say. I didn’t think I’d win - like, at all. But, um, thank you? Thank you so much for believing in me. I promise to make this the most fun year ever!”

More cheers erupt, and you can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and genuine. You feel like you’re on top of the world.

From his seat, Jungkook watches you, his expression softening as you beam at the crowd. Taehyung leans closer to him, nudging him with his elbow.

“You didn’t think she’d pull it off, huh?”

Jungkook smirks faintly, his gaze never leaving you. “Guess I underestimated her.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, but before he can respond, Jimin pipes up from Jungkook’s other side. “You’re proud of her, aren’t you?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but the hint of a smile remains. “Shut up.”

On stage, you clutch the microphone tightly, your confidence growing with every second. “And to everyone who didn’t think I could do this - haha! Joke’s on you!”

The crowd laughs and claps, your infectious energy impossible to resist. As you step back from the podium, your eyes scan the audience until they land on Jungkook.

He’s sitting back, his expression calm but his eyes warm, the faintest tilt of his head acknowledging you. And for a brief moment, everything else fades away.

You grin at him, your heart swelling with joy.

As you wave to the crowd and enjoy the praise, you feel like the luckiest person on earth. You’re so focused on taking it all in that you don’t even notice Jungkook leaving his seat to stand off to the side, leaning against a pillar and watching you from a distance, arms crossed.

Jimin and Taehyung join him, but are engaged in their own conversation as Jungkook busies himself with his phone.

Taehyung leans over to Jimin, grinning like the little troublemaker he is. “Dude, I don’t get it. How the hell did she win? I thought she was just being her usual bubbly self, handing out flyers and acting cute… But look at her now.”

Jimin laughs, nodding. “Yeah, man, what’s up with that? I mean, she’s sweet, and all, but… I didn’t think people would actually vote for her.”

The two of them glance over at Jungkook, who’s still standing quietly, his face unreadable. Taehyung smirks, nudging him lightly. “What do you think, Kook? How did she even win? Who’s voting for her, really?”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, not bothering to look at them, but there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He stands there, arms crossed, silently watching you, who’s now trying to juggle the flowers while still looking out at the crowd with that infectious grin of yours.

Jimin tilts his head, eyeing him suspiciously. “Come on, Jungkook. You know you have some sort of opinion. Tell us, who voted for her?”

Taehyung adds, “We can’t be the only ones. Did she really have this big of a following?”

Jungkook finally speaks, his voice calm, as he looks at Taehyung and Jimin, not making any effort to hide the slight amusement in his eyes. “Me,” he says, his gaze still fixed on you, who’s now blowing kisses to the crowd.

Jimin blinks, confused. “Well duh, but what was that going to do?”

Taehyung on the other hand scoffs, failing to believe Jungkook actually voted. “Bro, did you seriously vote? That’s a first.”

Jungkook glances at him, his lips curling into a small but knowing smile. “Yeah, about 120 times.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence, as Jimin and Taehyung exchange wide-eyed looks.

“Wait,” Taehyung starts, his tone of disbelief almost comical. “You really voted for her that many times? Dude, you’re joking.”

“No,” Jungkook responds, his voice laced with casual indifference. “Why would I fucking joke?”

Jimin can’t help but chuckle, looking over at Taehyung, who’s still in shock. “Wow, we had no idea. You’re soft for her, aren’t you?”

Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “She deserves it.”

The two of them fall silent for a moment, digesting what he’s just said.

Jungkook, the grungy, distant guy who typically didn’t care much for things like this, voted for you - his ditsy, but incredibly endearing girl - 120 times.

“She won because of you?” Taehyung asks, his voice almost in awe.

Jungkook finally shifts his gaze away from you and looks at the two of them. There’s still a quiet smirk on his face, but his tone is serious when he speaks again. “She’s the best choice. They need her.”

Jimin looks back at you on stage, a soft smile forming on his face. “Damn. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Jungkook’s eyes flick back to you as well, a subtle warmth in them that he doesn’t bother to hide this time. “Come on hyung, get over it.”

The two of them stand there, silently processing Jungkook’s revelation, while you continue to beam up at the crowd, completely oblivious to the conversation happening just a short distance away.

Your joy is contagious, and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook feels like he’s part of something bigger than himself. You make him feel that way, without even trying.

“Should we go congratulate her?” Taehyung asks with a grin, nudging Jimin, who looks lost in thought. “I mean, she’s our president now, right?”

Jimin laughs, shaking his head, still processing the revelation about Jungkook. “Yeah. Let’s go before she starts thanking everyone except us.”

As the two of them start to walk toward you, Jungkook stays behind, watching them for a second before his gaze drifts back to you.

When you finally make your way off the stage and into the crowd of friends and classmates congratulating you, your eyes lock with Jungkook’s. You smile at him, that soft, bright smile that always catches him off guard, and you laugh, still holding the flowers in your hands.

You’re quick to thrust your bouquets into the arms of Taehyung and Jimin, who both lean in to try and hug you, but you’re off and throwing yourself into your Bakugo’s arms.

“Jungkook, I don’t even know how I won! I don’t know what happened!” you exclaim with a cute laugh, clearly overwhelmed by everything happening around you.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you, his eyes softening with something unreadable. Finally, he pulls you in, engulfing you in his bulky arms.

Home.

“It was your daily speeches doll,” he whispers quietly, almost to himself. “You’re special.”

You beam back at him, your joy too big to contain. “Thanks, Koo! I couldn’t have done it without you!”

Jungkook says nothing, but the way he looks down at you, with the faintest smile on his lips, says it all.

For once, it’s clear: he’s always believed in you, even when you didn’t know it.

Later that evening, after the excitement has settled and the crowd has dispersed, you find yourself in Jungkook’s apartment again, sprawled on the couch with your victory flowers placed haphazardly on the coffee table.

Jungkook sits beside you, shirtless and looking hot as fuck as he flips through his phone.

You nudge his side with your elbow, catching his attention. “So, Kookie…” you start, drawing out the syllables in a singsong tone.

He raises a brow but doesn’t look away from his phone. “What now?”

“I won student president,” you remind him, grinning as you scoot closer.

“Did you? I didn’t notice,” he says dryly, still scrolling.

Back to his usual self it seems…

You pout, tugging on his sleeve. “That’s a big deal, you know.”

“Sure is.”

You lean in even closer, practically draping yourself over him. “Big enough for a reward, don’t you think?”

At that, he finally looks at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “A reward?”

You nod enthusiastically, your smile turning mischievous. “Yep. I worked so hard, and I think I deserve something for all my efforts.”

Jungkook smirks, his tongue running over his bottom lip in that way that always makes your stomach flip. “Oh, you think so?”

“I know so,” you declare, sitting up straighter and crossing your arms. “I handed out flyers, made speeches, posed for pictures. It was exhausting!”

You pout, knowing it will help you win your case.

He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. “And what kind of reward are you looking for, Miss President?”

You pretend to think for a moment, tapping your chin with your finger. “Hmm… Something meaningful. Something memorable. Something…” You trail off, leaning closer until your face is just inches from his. “Fun.”

Jungkook’s smirk widens, and he sets his phone down, finally giving you his full attention. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Unbelievably deserving of a reward,” you correct, grinning shamelessly.

He shakes his head, his hair falling into his eyes as he leans back against the couch. “Alright, Miss President. What do you want?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you slide onto his lap, straddling him, your hands resting on his shoulders. His hands instinctively settle on your hips, and his brows shoot up in surprise.

“This,” you say, your voice dropping to a softer, more playful tone. “This is my reward.”

You grind down on Jungkook, moving forward to rest your nose against his cheek.

Jungkook chuckles, low and warm, his grip tightening slightly. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” you admit, leaning in until your lips are a breath away from his. “But you like it.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, Jungkook closes the distance, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss that sends shivers down your spine.

When you finally pull back, a satisfied smile on your face, you whisper, “Best reward ever.”

“But I’m not satisfied,” Jungkook says in a husky tone, playing with the hem of your short, silk nightgown. “I think I deserve a reward too.”

As Jungkook’s fingers continue to trace lazy patterns on your thigh, his voice drops further, laced with that teasing, husky tone that always makes your cheeks warm.

His lips brush slightly against your ear.

You pull back and blink up at your man, your glossy lips parting slightly in confusion. “Huh? But you’re not the class president, silly. I am!”

Jungkook pauses, pulling back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes narrowing like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. And then he laughs - deep and low, the sound rumbling from his chest and vibrating against you.

A sound you’re not quite used to, but is your saving grace.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, shaking his head, the smirk tugging at his lips betraying his exasperation.

You pout, your perfectly glossed lips sticking out just enough to tempt him further. “I’m not wrong though,” you argue, tilting your head innocently.

“Mhm.” His grip on your waist tightens slightly, his thumb brushing against your skin as he leans closer, the warmth of his breath fanning against your cheek. “Still think I deserve something… presidential, don’t you think. You know, for being the best campaign manager?”

You stare at him for a second, trying to piece together what he meant before your face lights up. “Ohhh! You mean, like, a sticker or something? I think I have some in my bag! Wait here!”

Jungkook groans softly, the sound half-amused, half-defeated, as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. But he wasn’t going to let you go anywhere.

“Forget the sticker, doll,” he mutters, tugging you closer and pressing his lips firmly against yours once again.

Jungkook laughs softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your waist. “You’re lucky you’re- never mind.”

“You’re lucky I’m your president,” you quip, earning an eye roll and another kiss that leaves you both grinning like fools.

Jungkook pulls your closer, groaning. A deep, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Why don’t you remind me how lucky I am?”

Your fingers trail down his buff chest, teasingly slow, until they reach the waistband of his jeans. You toy with the button, glancing up at him through your lashes. “I think you already know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But if you need me to spell it out…”

Before you can finish, his hand shoots up, gripping your chin gently but firmly. “You’re such a tease,” he mutters, his gaze locked on yours. “Always pushing buttons, seeing how far you can go.”

A thrill runs through you at his words, your body responding instinctively as you nod, your lips parting slightly.

“Yes,” you breath, the single word laden with meaning.

That was all the encouragement he needed. In one swift motion, Jungkook flips you onto your back, pinning you beneath him as his mouth crashed into yours.

The kiss is hungry, desperate, his tongue claiming yours as his hands roamed over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You moan into his mouth, arching into his touch, your hands fisting in his hair to pull him closer.

When he finally breaks the kiss, both of you are breathless, your chests rising and falling rapidly.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, lips trailing down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. “Class president. Always so perfect, aren’t you?”

Your head falls back against the couch cushions, a whimper escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

“Only for you,” you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Jungkook chuckles darkly, his hands sliding under your skirt to grip your thighs. “Is that so?” he asks, voice laced with amusement. “Then let’s see how much of a good girl you can be for me tonight.”

With that, he shifts lower, his lips following the path of his hands as he kisses along your inner thighs.

You squirm beneath him, the anticipation building as he teases you mercilessly, his breath hot against your skin. When his tongue finally finds its target, your back arches off the couch as a cry tears from your lips.

“J-Jungkook!” you moan, your hands clutching at the cushions as waves of pleasure wash over you.

“My love, I’ve missed this” Jungkook murmurs, voice thick with lust, his breath ghosting over your slick heat. “Missed my mouth all over this filthy cunt.”

Your fingers tangle in his dark hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp as you tighten your grip, hips arching in desperate search of contact. The need is maddening, your body trembling with want.

“Please… Koo,” you whine, your voice barely more than a whimper, every syllable laced with urgency. “Please, I need you.”

He hums against your thigh, the sound sending a jolt straight through your core. His gaze flickers up to you, hungry and impossibly tender. “I need you too,” he admits softly. “Need to taste you. Need to be inside you. Need to ruin you.”

Then, with infuriating patience, he drags the tip of his tongue along your folds - a featherlight stroke that leaves you shuddering. You writhe beneath him, chasing more, the teasing making your heart pound.

Jungkook groans low in his throat, clearly affected by the sight of you already in bliss.

“Baby, please… need more,” you whine, voice high and trembling, your body begging louder than words ever could.

And that is all it takes.

“Koo’s teased you long enough, hmm, doll?” he taunts, cupping your thighs and settling in deeper. “If it’s too much, you’ll tell me.”

Jungkook licks a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit, savouring every drop of you. His tongue lingers, his lips sealing around your cunt as he begins to truly devour you … hungry, reverent, insatiable.

He moans into you, the vibration making your toes curl. His mouth is everywhere - sucking, kissing, lapping - and when his tongue flicks over your swollen clit, you cry out his name like a prayer.

You rock your hips against his face, seeking more, always more, as he flattens his tongue against you and groans at the taste he’s been craving. His hands roam upward, brushing over your chest, thumbs circling your hardened nipples, sending sparks of sensation through your already trembling frame.

“Oh my god, Baby—please! I-I can’t—” You gasp, the first orgasm crashing into you hard and fast, your thighs clamping around his head.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop.

He already knows.

“Baby wants more?” he teases against your heat, voice muffled but devilish.

And despite the pressure, you find yourself nodding.

Jungkook is then licking you again… up and down, over and over… shameless, worshipful and like he’s starved for you.

You can barely breathe, pleasure building again far too soon, and all you can do is hold on as he pulls another climax from your trembling body, whispering your name between every lick like it’s the only word that’s ever mattered.

You whine, tears spilling from your eyes as you reach for your Koo to hold you.

“Not yet,” he says, voice rough with lust and desire. “We’re not done.”

Before you could protest, Jungkook is kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body as he guides you to sit up.

“Ride me,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You obey without hesitation, positioning yourself over him as he unbuckles his jeans, freeing his hard length.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, moaning at the sensation of being filled so completely. All while the tears continue to spill.

You love… you adore… you could die for the way this man fucks you.

Jungkook’s hands grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you begin to ride him, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

“That’s it,” he growls, his eyes locked on yours. “Take what you want, baby. Show me how much you’ve earned this.”

You whimper, pace increasing as the heat between you builds to an unbearable level. Jungkook’s hands move to your breasts, kneading and teasing as you grind down on him, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his voice guttural and raw. “Riding me like you own me.” His words send a thrill through you, spurring you on as you pick up the pace, grinding down onto him with increasing urgency.

“You’re- you’re mine,” you manage to utter, grip tightening on Jungkook’s shoulders as you reach down to kiss him.

Jungkook, however, seems occupied with your urgency. And being his usual determined self, he cannot let you win.

His hands grab hold of your hips again, guiding your movements as he thrust up into you harshly, meeting you stroke for stroke.

The pleasure builds rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your core with each thrust. You feel it building, that sweet pressure threatening to break you apart, but you hold on, determined to make your handsome man come undone first.

“Koo, I—” you whine, your voice breaking as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

You clench around him, drawing a strangled groan from his lips as his rhythm falters.

Leaning forward, you capture his mouth in a messy, passionate kiss, your tongues battling for dominance as you ride him harder, faster, chasing that peak together.

“Come for me,” he demands, tone firm but gentle. “Fall apart on my dick.”

It was all the permission you required.

With a cry, you come undone, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Jungkook groans, the feeling of your sticky cum decorating him consuming him.

And before he can continue his usual post-orgasm shenanigans, you cut him off with a sharp roll of your hips, driving him over the edge.

His release hits him like a tidal wave, his body tensing as he spills inside you. He holds you through it, his groans muffling against your skin.

The sight of him cumming inside you, the feel of him pulsing within you, is all it takes to send you spiraling once again.

Another orgasm crashes over you, waves of ecstasy washing through your body as you clench around him, milking every last drop of pleasure Jungkook has to offer.

Both of you breathe heavily as you try to regain your senses. Jungkook’s arms immediately wrap tighter around you, holding you close as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice filled with satisfaction and pride. “You did so well, my princess.”

You smile faintly, your body still tingling from the second orgasm. “Does this mean I get a reward every time I win something?”

Jungkook chuckles, his grip on you tightening slightly. “If this is how you plan to collect, then maybe we should make more bets.”

You laugh softly, leaning into your boyfriend as the TV continues to flicker in the background, forgotten by both of you.

For now, all that matters is being lost in the heat of the moment and Jungkook’s promise of more nights like this.

—

And done! Hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻 I would appreciate feedback :)

[montanabohemian]

#these movies fundamentally change my life trajectory lol

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor

Lesson 3: Human Reproduction

Series masterlist

Prev parts: Lesson 1: Female anatomy Lesson 2: Male anatomy Extra Credits 01: Communication skills Extra Credits 02: French Independent Study 01: Art Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: Grades, feelings, and a practical lesson in human reproduction

WC: ~14.6K (oopsie/I’m not sorry/you’re welcome)

C/W: 18+, SMUT, NSFW, MDNI! Fluff, smut, fluffy smut, smutty fluff, fingering, clit stim, nipple play (M+F rec), p in v sex (protection is discussed; always wrap it irl), pantie stealing (consensual), aftercare, feelings, slight cream pie, brief mention of food and eating, reader wears a short skirt, Wayne Munson. I’ve tried to keep physical descriptions of reader as neutral as possible, lmk if I need to change anything. 

My masterlist

You and Eddie have decided it’s best if you keep your whatevership between the two of you, at least for now. Neither your friends nor family would be thrilled to discover you were giving ‘extracurricular attention’ to the boy the whole town regards as a lawbreaking freak. (Technically, you suppose he is actually both - weed dealing and his general style and demeanour make that statement factually correct, but you don’t see him in the negative way they do.) Furthermore, your teacher may be reluctant to come through on those agreed upon extra credits if he finds out that the lessons you’re offering veer significantly more towards the ‘practical’. So, keeping it on the down-low it is. 

However, that hasn’t stopped you from thinking about your study sessions with Eddie. In fact, he’s on your mind almost constantly. You’ve also both become more brazen in your interactions, and neither of you look away now when you catch each other’s eye in the halls. And you’ll both stare dreamily and smile across the cafeteria as he nibbles on pretzels and you mull over a thorny problem in a notebook, chewing on the end of your pencil.

You’ve spoken on the phone again too. For the most part it’s just as… stimulating as the first time, if not more so, and you're both gaining confidence and are able to articulate your needs and desires with increasingly elaborate and creative language. But to your surprise you’ve also ended up chatting too, and more than once you’ve devolved into fits of hysterical giggles. You’ve never been able to be so open with a partner before, and you’re revelling in the intimacy.

But, he’s not your partner partner. You didn’t mean it like that. You’re fully aware of Eddie’s… situation, and you’re pretty sure he’s not ready for any kind of official commitment. You really need to be careful with your language, or you're going to slip up one day and mess up whatever the hell this is…

On the day of your usual Biology class with Eddie, everyone’s milling around the science lab, waiting to get their test results. It’s the final class before the end of the semester, and Mr Clarke knows better than to expect anyone to do any work, so nobody’s in their seats and the room is filled with general murmur and chatter.

A steady stream of students collects their papers from Mr Clarke at his desk. Yours is near the top of the pile - you being you, you’re always one of the first to head up to find out how you did, and generally, the less… academically inclined students hang back until the end, wanting to delay the agony and prolong their blissful ignorance for as long as possible. 

Mr Clarke passes you your paper, and you spy a large, red ‘A+’ in the top corner. You pinch your face into a scrunched up smile, and you can feel your cheeks heating. Yes, it’s one of your favourite subjects, but you never want to assume anything.

“No surprises there!”, Mr Clarke jokes, as you proudly yet somewhat bashfully look over your work as you head back to your desk.

You’re dying to know how Eddie did, but presume he’s going to wait it out like the other ‘cool kids’, and you don’t really want to rub your success in his face in case it didn’t go well for him, so you slide back into your seat without looking in his direction.

A few moments later, there’s a sudden loud whoop from the front of the class. Everyone turns to face the clamour, and to your surprise you see Eddie standing next to Mr Clarke’s desk, arms aloft and eyes wide, grinning as he shakes his paper above his head like a Tusken Raider.

Wait, did you just make a nerd reference? What the fuck is this guy doing to you?

You try not to stare as Eddie’s gesticulations make his torn Iron Maiden shirt ride up to expose the smooth planes of his abdomen and the dark sprinkling of hair leading down beneath his waistb— You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, this feat seemingly significantly more difficult for you than passing a science test.

He changes position, hunching over now, and punches the air with one fist, wrinkling his nose and baring his teeth as he stares down at the paper he’s crinkling in the fierce grip of his other hand.

“Yeah! Goddamn B minus! B fuckin’ minus, baby! Wooo!! I am fucking walking that stage, I can feel it!”

A few of your classmates start to clap, and soon most of the class is applauding Eddie, a few even joining in with the whoops and hollers. He bends at the waist and gives a theatrical bow, still grinning, much to the delight of the whole class.

Even Mr Clarke is clapping, ignoring Eddie’s profanity for once and with a broad smile on his face too. Eddie smiles back, extending his hand to the older man, who takes it happily, shaking it and slapping Eddie on his bicep as he says, 

“Congratulations, Mr Munson. I knew you could do it, son.”

Before you’re fully cognisant of what you’re doing, you’re out of your seat and rushing towards Eddie, colliding with his chest with a thump as you fling your arms around his ribs, hugging him tightly. He freezes for a moment, stunned, before his arms move around your shoulders, gripping you tightly, crushing the document even more, before his empty hand flattens over the centre of your back, gently but intensely rubbing up and down.

He drops his chin onto your shoulder, and turns his face so it’s nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a couple of deep, slow inhales, and his warm breath fans out over your skin and trickles down the back of your shirt as he adds a contented hum that almost short-circuits your brain. Quietly, you mumble into his chest, 

“Congratulations, Eddie."

Just as quietly, almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear, Eddie replies, voice slightly cracking,

"I couldn't have done it without you, Princess…”

You remain there at the front of the class, embracing, rocking slightly, neither of you seemingly wanting to let go. Eddie's palm continues to make patterns on your back, and you keep your arms around his middle. The heat from his chest seeps into yours, and you begin to get lost in his heady scent of cigarettes, spicy cologne and weed, something so quintessentially Eddie.

Behind you, you hear Mr Clarke clear his throat, and you and Eddie break apart as he proclaims, 

“Well, I think that proves that the student-to-student tutoring project is a success! Well done, both of you. Okay, who’s next?”

Keen to minimise further attention from your classmates, you both make your way back to your seats. He sits behind his desk, and you pull your stool to face him over it. 

Eddie’s lab partner offers him a fist bump, adding, “Nice work, dude,” to which Eddie reciprocates and replies, “Thanks, man,” before the guy wanders off to chat to his friends across the room.

You and Eddie stare at each other across the workbench. All you seem to be able to do is grin goofily, and you see Eddie’s cheeks pinken to an even darker shade. Eventually, you manage to speak.

“Well done, Eddie. Seriously. I’m so proud of you, all your hard work paid off!”

He glances down at his paper again, seemingly needing to keep checking it to make sure it’s real, that he actually passed. A slightly incredulous look on his face, he replies, chuckling,

“Fuckin’ B minus. Wayne’s gonna wanna frame this shit, I swear!”

You bark out a laugh, before responding,

“You should let him. This is a big moment!”

You both laugh again before Eddie continues, more seriously this time,

“I meant what I said, you know. I couldn’t’ve done this without your help.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. You know I wouldn’t’ve done it if I didn’t want to, though, right?”

“I know, I know. I just wanted you to know how grateful I am, is all…”

His face suddenly drops, and his eyes fall to the tabletop as he says, more quietly,

“Uh… I guess this means we won’t be studying anymore though, right?”

Something twists in your stomach. You hadn’t considered that this might change things. Thoughts roil in your mind. You don’t want whateverthisis with Eddie to end, that’s for certain, and from his tone you surmise that’s not what he wants either. So you make him an offer.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think I could go for at least one more lesson. Call it a celebration! If you wanted to, that is?”

You’ve barely finished your sentence before Eddie’s almost-yelling, 

“Yeah! I mean, yes, if you want to as well, I mean…”

You try to suppress a smile as you reply,

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. I’m free after school, if that’s any good for you?”

Later on, when Eddie gives you a ride to his place, things feel different, and it’s not just the residual adrenalin from this afternoon’s test results. The anticipation is palpable. It’s like you’re both more relaxed, but somehow also more on edge, as if the air itself is charged and your skin is buzzing. You know where you’d like to take things, but you’re not sure how far Eddie will want to go, so you have a vague plan of offering suggestions but ultimately being guided by him.

You sit on the edge of his sofa feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Eddie brings drinks, clearing his throat as he sits stiffly next to you, occasionally glancing in your direction.

“So, uh, what’s the subject for tonight, Teach?”, he says with a nervous chuckle.

“I, uh, thought we could do some revision. Maybe bring everything together, and go over human reproduction?”

You raise your eyebrows as you say the final two words, hoping Eddie might catch your meaning. He gulps, and his cheeks tinge with a blush.

“That’s not a subject I have a great deal of knowledge about. But, you already knew that, right?”

He titters nervously, the pink in his cheeks deepening in intensity.

“Yeah, I know, Eddie. Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the deal there? I mean, you’re young, fit, good looking. I don’t wanna pry, I’m just curious, I guess?” 

Fuck, really fit. So good looking... Wait, did you just feel butterflies?

Realising your curiosity might have outrun your mouth, you attempt to backtrack.

“You totally don’t have to tell me. God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, Princess, it’s fine, really. It’s not like I never, um, had the opportunity. Mostly cheerleaders wanting free weed, or drunk wives or bored moms wanting a bit of illicit fun at The Hideout. For my 18th my dad even arranged a couple of female performers for me. He’s in jail, you knew that, right?” 

You give him what you hope is a sympathetic nod.

“He got a message to a buddy of his, and they turned up after a gig. He instructed me to, uh, take my pick, or have both, if I wanted. So after we’d played, we went backstage, and we talked, and they were really nice ladies, but, uh, it just didn’t feel right somehow. They didn’t say anything afterwards, apart from how I was such a nice boy and if I ever changed my mind I should totally give them a call. And the guys just assumed what had gone on and acted like I was some kind of dog, and I guess I didn’t correct them, and, well, here we are…” 

He’s bashful again, embarrassed at his own apparent reluctance as well as his lack of experience, and you see him picking at the skin around one of his thumbnails. Looking at the floor, he continues,

“I guess I wanted my first time to, I dunno, be a bit more special? Must sound pretty stupid, coming from a hot blooded male, or whatever.”

You both smile as you remember one of your previous conversations and what you’d said. You want to reassure him.

“No, that’s not stupid at all. It’s not just girls who deserve a special first time, you know. Everyone deserves to feel comfortable, and if you haven’t felt that way yet then that’s totally okay. I’m actually proud of you for not feeling pressured into doing something that didn’t feel right.”

He turns his head sideways and looks at you at a quirky angle through his hair, a broad smile threatening to emerge.

“Yeah? Thanks, Princess, that means more than you know.”

You smile back at him, that warmth in your chest spreading throughout your torso. Breaking the moment, Eddie asks, with more than a little trepidation,

“So, what exactly d'you wanna do..?”

Your mind churns with possibilities, and you open your mouth, not entirely certain about what’s going to come out. But before you can say anything, Eddie jumps in.

“Oh, wait. I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

He reaches over to the side table next to him and returns with a lightly rolled piece of paper. Unfurling it, he somewhat nervously presents to you.

“You said you wanted a picture. So, I, uh, drew this for you.”

You take it from him and open it fully. It’s an illustration. A human brain, seen from above, one half of it beautifully rendered in graphite pencil and exquisitely shaded and detailed. The ridges and bumps look like you could almost reach out and touch them. This is incredible enough, but what really catches your attention is the other side. It’s a riot of flowers in different types and colours, overlapping and clustered in a formation that perfectly matches the silhouette of the other half. It’s beautiful.

Your hand comes to cover your mouth and you gasp a little. 

“Oh, Eddie, this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen! Did you really do this for me?”

Bashfully, he pulls a strand of hair across his cheek as he replies, 

“Sure did, just for you. I chose the subject for that big, beautiful brain of yours, and then I added the flowers ‘cos, y’know, you’re beautiful. You’ve got it all, Princess.”

Now it’s your turn to feel embarrassed. You really weren’t expecting something so amazing, or to feel like this about it. Or to feel this way about him.

You lift the drawing to look closer at the divine detail, and it’s then that you focus in on the background. It looks like a page from a book, and as you scan the words you see dictionary and thesaurus entries under ‘beauty’, spotting beautiful, beauteous, charming, attractive, lovely, alluring... You’re absolutely stunned.

It’s then that you notice the raw edge on one side of the paper.

Wait. 

“Eddie…” You turn to him, brows furrowing with a mixture of concern and excitement. 

“Tell me you didn’t steal this page from the library!”

“Uh, I may have.” He chuckles lightly. “Hey, it’s not like people use it much. It just seemed so appropriate, and I just, kinda, liberated it for an artistic cause.”

You can’t deny that a vehicle for Eddie’s amazing artwork is likely a far better use for this page than it mouldering away in a dusty school library. And it’s not like you could return it now, anyway. 

Everything about it, from the intentions to the execution, is beautiful. 

You tell Eddie so as you run your fingers over the lines. 

“It’s wonderful, Eddie. I’ll treasure it forever.”

Tearing your eyes away from the art in front of you, you lock eyes with him, and the atmosphere in the room seems to thicken. You’re not sure how Eddie’s feeling, but there’s a quiver in your belly and a heat in your core that’s demanding a significant proportion of your attention. You place the paper carefully down on the coffee table before murmuring quietly,

“Would you like to, uh, do that revision now?”

Eddie shifts in his seat, his cheeks pulling up as he tries to stifle a grin and maintain his composure.

“Okaaaay?”

You shift on the sofa and Eddie can’t help but allow the grin spread across his face. He twists his upper body and turns towards you, and puts one hand beside him on the seat as he drops his chin and peers up at you through his lashes. He looks adorable, a little timid but eager to please, like the world’s cutest puppy, and you let out a quiet giggle.

Coyly, he pulls another strand of hair across his upper lip (he really has to stop doing that) as he broaches,

“Are you gonna test me?”

A sultry smile spreads across your face as you recall the first lesson you had together.

“I taught you a lot of terminology in our first lesson. I wanna see how much you can remember.” 

The tip of your tongue peeks out and teases your upper lip.

You can tell he’s still not sure exactly what you mean, but you help him understand as you shuffle forwards and, perching yourself on the very edge of the sofa cushion, you slowly drift your hands up under your skirt, slip your thumbs into the sides of your underwear, lift your butt slightly and begin to pull them down your legs.

Eddie gets it now, and to your surprise he rushes quickly off the sofa and drops to his knees on the floor in front of you.

“Oh shit, please let me help?”

You smile broadly and allow him to take over. 

His fingertips lightly brush the skin of your thighs. They’re rough, calloused, you presume from years of guitar playing, but the feeling is certainly not unpleasant. You experience a frisson of excitement, imagining how his rough hands might feel running over other parts of you.

He gently hooks your underwear with his fingers and, slowly, continues their descent down your legs. He’s careful, reverent almost, like you’re a porcelain doll and he’s scared you will break. You’ve never been treated with such care before. You feel like a precious jewel, and his nickname for you, Princess, suddenly takes on new significance.

He’s concentrating more now than he has the whole time you’ve been helping him study, seemingly taking in every detail of your thighs, your panties, and, especially, the patch of damp fabric that’s already soaked with your arousal. When his eyes flick up to yours he realises he’s been caught staring, and he gives you a little bashful smile.

He removes your underwear by gently lifting each of your feet. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he quickly pushes the ball of material under the sofa. You don’t let on that he’s not being nearly as subtle about that as he thinks he is. 

Placing one foot on either side of his knees, you part your legs. Then, tantalisingly slowly, you move the hem of your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. 

You’ve never seen anyone have a religious experience, but you think the expression on Eddie’s face might come close. His eyes, fixated on your centre, are blown dark and opened wide, and his mouth is slightly open. His eyes are furrowed upwards in that almost-surprised look you like so much, and you see him swallow, hard. 

You feel your cunt clench gently. Yep, you still like him looking at you.

“So… what can you remember, Eddie?”

“I— I—”

You give him a moment, taking the opportunity to drink him in, and watch as his tongue comes out to slowly wet his lips. The edges of his mouth curl in the slightest half-smile, and he huffs out an incredulous breath. He’s close enough to you that you feel it on your inner thighs and core. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you. Adoring, pliant, submissive even. Oh, this is new.

You lean forward to lightly hold his wrist, and guide his hand up towards your centre. You can feel him trembling slightly, and remember that this is likely the first time he’s ever touched anyone so intimately.

“Okay, let’s try this a different way. Do you remember what this whole area is called?”

As you ask the question you trace his fingertips lightly across your mound and the soft skin of your inner thighs. You place his open hand against you and curve his fingers to cup you gently, his palm pressing featherlight against your hidden clit and his fingertips nestled in your trimmed pubic hair. He lets out a trembling hum.

“Umm, Volvo. No, wait, vul-va?”

“Yes, that’s so good Eddie.” 

You put on a lilting, singsong voice, letting him know how well he’s doing, and he puffs out another tremulous breath.

You hold his first two digits and direct him to curl the rest out of the way. You guide his fingertips between your folds, and they glide easily through your silky wetness.

“Okay, what about this part?”

Eddie lets out a long, low sigh, and swallows deeply. He’s completely fixated on what he can see and feel. You slide his fingers up and down your soaked slit a couple of times, and Eddie’s jaw drops open further.

“Eddie, are you still with me? Can you remember what these are called?”

“Huh? Uh, l— lips, I think?”

“Good enough.”

You smirk at him, though he doesn’t notice, he’s clearly far too focussed on where his fingers are to care about anything else. You revel in the attention. No one else has ever been this gentle with you, this adoring, attentive, tender. And he’s fucking mesmerised. It’s a far cry from the back-seat fumbles and quick pokes in study rooms that you’re used to. You’re definitely not going to be able to go back to that now.

Desperate for Eddie to touch more of you, you continue his education.

“Next, I want you to find my clitoris. Do you think you can do that?”

You let go of his fingers and settle back onto the sofa on your elbows, processing Eddie’s shocked and nervous expression as he glances up to your face.

“You, uh, want me to do this by myself?”

“Yes, I trust you. If it hurts, or you’re way off, I promise I’ll help. But I think it would be good for you to try. Also, I want to see if you can work out when you’ve got it without me having to tell you.”

His brow furrows very slightly at this; he doesn’t seem convinced that this is possible, but you’re in front of him, spread and waiting, so who is he to question it. He moves his wet fingertips slowly through your folds, gliding easily, studying his path but also flicking his eyes up to your face episodically. You close your eyes and hum, enjoying the sensation. 

As he moves further up you can feel a growing uncertainty in his movements, but just as you think he’s about to give up or ask for help, one of his calloused fingertips glances the side of your clit, causing you to inhale sharply as your eyes spring open.

He freezes, terrified he’s done something wrong or hurt you, but you smile down at him and reassure him,

“That’s so close, you’re almost there.”

He smiles, confidence buoyed, and you notice he’s watching your face now as he moves his fingers experimentally. One sideways movement has a rough fingertip connecting perfectly with your sensitive nub, and you let out an abrupt whine.

Eddie presses a little harder, testing, his mouth still open and the tip of his tongue teasing his front teeth.

You moan, loudly, and your head tips back and connects with the cushions of the sofa.

Boldly, Eddie begins to move his fingers, up and down to start with, which makes you hum with contentment. But when, unbidden, he then starts to draw tiny circles around his newly-discovered treasure, your whines turn to full-on moans.

“Is this it? Am I getting it, Princess?”

You glance down at him again, at that beautiful face now adorned with a smirk that seems to be a mix of experimentation and new-found cockiness. Breathlessly, but smiling, you manage, 

“Yeah, you’re definitely getting it.”

And you let out another long moan as he continues to trace those tiny patterns. You could definitely lose it from this alone, but you want to teach him a little more.

“I want you to do something else as well. Do you remember where my vagina is?”

“Uh, I think so.”

Eddie swallows, as he moves his other hand up towards your centre. He pauses, and, looking from your face to your cunt again, he begins to slowly push one fingertip between your wet folds.

You wince as you feel a slight discomfort, and offer, helpfully, 

“Try going a little lower.”

“Oh, okay, sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry, Eddie, nobody gets it on their first tr— ah!” 

He’s definitely getting it.

You want to reassure him even more, tell him that this is the best you’ve ever felt when anyone’s touched you, but the words dissolve as his index finger easily breaches your sopping hole.

You sigh and close your eyes, enjoying the subtle stretch and finally having some part of him inside of you. But Eddie’s stilled, and you realise he needs more guidance. 

“You can go in further, if you want?”

That’s seemingly all the encouragement he needs, as he pushes further, all the way to his ringed knuckle, and you feel the knobbled metal against your lips. He closes his eyes and begins babbling,

“Oh, g-god, you feel so good. You’re like silk, like velvet. You’re so fucking warm, and so goddamn wet, Jeezus!”

You allow you both to enjoy the moment, before deciding to put your musician’s fingers theory to the test.

“Can I give you some more instructions, Eddie?”

He looks up at you, blinking, seeming to come back to himself.

“Yes! Tell me what you want. Please tell me what to do to make you feel good. I’ll do it, I’ll do all of it.”

Oh, this is gonna be fun…

“Okay, add another fing— Oh fuck, that’s it! Shit, that feels so nice.”

Your hips buck forwards as Eddie slides his middle finger in to join the first, pushing them deep and coating his rings in your abundant slick. He lets out a shuddering hum as your walls clench gently around him and you gasp at the sense of increasing fullness.

“Okay, keep your hand so your palm is upwards. That’s it, I know it’s a little uncomfortable but I promise it’s worth it. Now curl your fingers, like you’re beckoning me. Just gently, not too fa-ah— Oh fuck!”

Eddie’s deft fingertips brush that most sensitive spot inside of you, and your legs tense as your back arches off the sofa. You reach down to grab his wrist. You chuckle, smiling down at him. 

“Okay, stop, just for a moment, otherwise I’m not gonna be able to speak. Congratulations, you just found my g-spot.”

“I— I did?”

He grins, huffing out a breath, and experimentally curls his fingers again, his eyes glued to your face.

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” is all you can manage, as your hands move to grip the sofa cushions.

Eddie pauses for a brief moment, glancing down to look at your sodden core, and you take the opportunity to give him one final instruction.

“If you keep doing what you were doing to my clit at the same time, you’re gonna make me cum. Do you wanna do that?”

Eddie’s voice drops almost to a growl as he splutters, the words tumbling out in a rush,

“Oh fuck yes, Princess. Please let me do that!”

He adjusts his position, shuffling closer to you, his eyes scanning between your face and your cunt. You notice the substantial bulge in his pants and how he’s occasionally shifting his hips, bucking them up into the seam of his sinfully tight jeans.

“So… I just keep doing this, and… this?”

He pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you, curling them as his rings touch your soaking lips, and continues to draw tiny circles around your clit. His wide eyes meet yours, his level of concentration evident. You nod, smiling, and relax back onto the sofa. You lose yourself in the sensations, enjoying Eddie’s ministrations and letting yourself drift away on a sea of warmth and pleasure.

Before long a familiar pressure builds in your abdomen. You let out a loud sigh and your hips buck forward again of their own accord. You hear Eddie’s breath become louder and more ragged, and his movements speed up, his fingers pumping deeper and the pressure he’s placing on your clit increasing just a fraction. It’s enough to start sparks flying along your nerves and have your back arching and your thighs trembling.

You start groaning, almost letting go before you realise you should probably give Eddie some warning.

“Shit, I’m so close. Don’t stop, dontfuckingstop, ohshitohshitohshii—”

The universe stops. Time ceases to exist. Your vision goes black before being filled with a million tiny stars, and a supernova of euphoria erupts from your core and spreads throughout your entire body. You think you hear yourself moaning, possibly Eddie as well, but the sounds seem so far away. 

You don’t notice that you’ve arched your back even further until you regain some sense of reality and realise the top of your head is now against the back of the sofa. Gradually, feeling comes back into the rest of your body, a bone-deep warmth suffusing you as your contorted limbs gradually return to their usual positions.

Your vision finally comes back into focus, and you glance down to see Eddie staring at you, wide-mouthed and somewhat stunned. Propping yourself up on the heels of your hands, you grin as you comment, voice syrupy and possibly a little slurred,

“Fuck, Eddie, you’re good at that. Screw the B minus, you definitely deserve an A plus!”

He gives you a lopsided grin, one dimple popping, and chuckles lightly as, watching your centre, he begins to slowly withdraw himself from you. Your body seems to have other ideas, as your walls clench around his fingers and a small aftershock makes you tremble. It definitely doesn’t want to let him go.

He pauses as he examines his soaked digits, moving them apart and studying your slick as it covers his palm and runs over his knuckles. You think you spot a minuscule drop of his jaw as his hand twitches, but then he stops himself. You’re slightly nervous that you may have misread his movements, but you decide to be bold anyway.

“Do you wanna taste me?”

His eyes snap to yours. They’re wide, like a kid that’s been caught trying to steal cookies. Sitting up a little, you gently take hold of his wrist and move his hand closer to his mouth, giving him permission. His eyes don’t leave yours as he drops his jaw, lolls out his tongue and pushes his sodden fingers into his mouth. Only when his lips reach his knuckles does his gaze falter. His eyes flicker closed and he hums loudly, licking and sucking, cleaning up every speck. He eventually pulls them out, mumbling low,

“Christ, you taste so good.”

You heat at the praise; no one’s ever told you that before. Feeling bold again, you continue,

“You wanna taste me properly one day? Put your mouth on me? I gotta admit I’m keen to see what else you can do with that tongue…”

Eddie gulps audibly as he shuffles forwards and grabs hold of your knees, looking like he’s kneeling at an altar. The altar of you.

“Oh holy shit, please let me do that. God, I wanna get my tongue inside you so bad.”

He’s practically drooling, and the sight of him literally on his knees and begging to taste your cunt has you clenching all over again. But as much as you want that (and you really, really want that), there’s now an aching need inside you that only something larger can satisfy. If Eddie’s willing to give it to you. Keen to bookmark this for another time, you proffer,

“Whaddaya say we make that a whole lesson all to itself?”

He grins at you, seemingly pleased with this proposal.

Eddie rests back on his heels and places his hands in his lap. He’s not ushering you to leave, which is good, but he seems a little unsure of himself. Conscious of how exposed you still are, you start to straighten yourself up, lowering your skirt and checking your hair in case the sofa cushions have done a number on it. 

You have no idea what the protocol is for this situation. You’re aware that there’s likely an issue in his pants that could use some attention, but you’re not sure how to broach it. You know what you’d like to do, but are suddenly nervous and can’t look at him, and start fiddling with the hem of your skirt. He seems to be having the same dilemma, as he asks,

“So, what do we do now?”

He could be expecting a suggestion like watching a movie, or ordering pizza. But you decide to ask for what you want, whilst also giving him an out just in case this is too sudden. You fiddle with your hem again and catch his gaze as you blather,

“Well, I know we’ve kinda talked about this before, maybe not as much as we could have. But I, uh— I’d really like to, um, have you inside of me. If you wanted to. An— and it doesn’t actually have to be now, or even soon. We can totally go at your pace, and I realise I’m asking to be your first, but—”

He cuts you off with a single syllable. 

“Yes.” 

It’s the shortest sentence you’ve ever heard him utter. And in this moment it’s the most beautiful. His face is almost blank, completely serious with an edge of hopefulness etched in his brows. Your chest fills with pride and gratitude. He really does trust you enough to want to do this with you. But what happens next is a surprise. 

“Umm… would now be okay?”

You grin broadly. 

“Uh, no, not at all. Shall we, um… take this to your bedroom?”

He smiles softly before breaking out into a wide but bashful grin.

He stands and, offering his hands, helps you to get up. Eddie makes sure you’re okay to move and, at a pace you can cope with on your shaky legs, gently leads you across the trailer and down the narrow corridor to his bedroom, repeatedly looking at you with an incredulously dopey look.

He pauses with his palm against the door. Looking at you ruefully through his lashes, he warns you, quietly,

“Just so you know, it’s a mess in here.”

You reassure him,

“I don’t mind. Frankly, so long as you’re not storing a rotting corpse or running a meth lab, I couldn’t care less.”

He swings the door open and leads you inside. You step through and take a brief moment to glance around the room, noticing the posters on the walls, piles of clothes, D&D paraphernalia and various bits of band equipment. It’s almost exactly as you’d pictured it. 

Standing in the middle of the carpet, he turns to face you, holding one of your hands in his and fiddling with your fingers. His hesitancy is adorable.

“Soooo… What do we do first?”

You take both of his hands in yours, squeezing them lightly, and through a soft smile you say airily,

“Well, it’s usually customary to do a little kissing. I know you know how to do that, because…”

Your cheeks heat as you remember your library lesson. Eddie’s throat bobs as he swallows, and his gaze flits around your face, settling on your lips as he tries, and fails, to get his breathing under control. 

You gently place his hands at your waist and then loop your arms around his neck, finally getting to sink your fingers into his long, luscious locks. They’re much softer than you thought they’d be, and you feel him tremble as you lightly drag your fingertips across his scalp.

You step towards him and slowly lean in, moving your face closer to his, pulling Eddie ever so slightly to indicate that he should do the same. There’s the briefest of pauses as your lips hover, your breaths mingling, before you both close the minuscule gap.

It’s a little uncoordinated, you two never having done this standing up before, but none of that matters as your mouths connect. Eddie’s lips are soft and pillowy, and the feeling of his hands on your waist, his mouth against yours and that familiar faint vanilla scent completely invade your senses. He has a hint of a five o’clock shadow, and you feel his scruff scratch softly against the sensitive skin of your face. You know it’s going to leave you red and puffy, and you relish being able to take a reminder of this away with you. 

It’s chaste yet passionate as your lips meld and release and find a rhythm. You muss his hair and he hums, and the ache between your legs grows vivid again. You press your front against his, and he breaks your kiss with a soft,

“Oh!”

Wow, he really does want this. A whole lot. You nudge against him again, relishing the firmness you can feel in the front of his jeans. The seam of his zipper only adds to the sensation, and you feel his obvious and substantial erection swell and kick towards you through the stiff fabric. You’ve never wanted anything more in your entire life, but for Eddie’s sake you’re determined to take it slow.

Okay, maybe not that slow. You thumb at the hem of his shirt, and with what you hope is a cute pout, ask,

“Can we take this off?”

He grins, dimples popping adorably, and takes half a step back. You think your own smile might rival his as you grasp the bottom of his shirt and peel it up and over his head. Not teasing, not rushing, the speed is just right, and you bite your lip when his arms lift and his hair fluffs, and you drop the garment to the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way it affects you. Eddie catches you staring, and for a brief moment you worry that he’s self conscious, or nervous of your opinion of his physicality. But instead, in a cheeky show of burgeoning confidence, that you hope is somewhat down to you, he murmurs,

“Do you… like what you see, Princess?”

Your eyes continue to scan his chest as you hum in approval.

“Oh yes, definitely…”

You bring one of your hands up and run the tips of your fingers over the tattoos on his pec. Eddie shivers and inhales a shaky breath, and then whines a little as you flatten your hand over the muscle.

Your other hand traces up his waist and abs, making him stutter out a bashful giggle as you hit a ticklish spot, until both hands come to rest on the upper part of his chest, feeling it rise and fall beneath your palms. You look over his torso, his shoulders and throat, before your gaze flicks over his lips and reaches his eyes again.

“I meant what I said before, you know. You’re really pretty. Has anyone else ever told you that?”

“Uh, nope. No, they haven’t. But from you, I believe it.”

You smile softly at him, and run your hands over his collarbones and down the sides of his pecs. Experimentally, you allow the pads of your thumbs to gently skim his nipples. He hisses in a breath, and his responsiveness increases the throb in your core.

You let your hands travel lower, and they come to rest at his belt line. You can’t help but salivate at what you know is beneath as you work his belt buckle open, and then his button. You look up and smile at him as you pull gently on his zipper, lowering it, and he smiles back, shaking his head almost imperceptibly as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. 

You hook your thumbs over his waistband and start to tug. He helps, easing the fabric over the soft swell of his ass as you pull his jeans down until you’re crouching on the floor before him. He sighs as his member is released from its denim confines, tenting obnoxiously in his briefs, and you miss the fond smile he gives you, accompanied by another imperceptible head shake, as you concentrate on freeing his feet.

Once he’s standing in just his boxers, you rise and sit on the edge of his bed, gently pulling on his hands and guiding him to sit next to you. You swivel to face each other, fingers still linked. The two of you somehow manage to make some of the most innocent of gestures seem the most intimate, and there’s a peculiar moment of bashfulness between you. You huff through your noses, chuckling, and you can see Eddie’s cheeks have pinkened again as he looks down at your joined hands, fingers intertwined.

Finally, his gaze meets yours again, and his face is suddenly serious. His eyes flit to your lips, and you take this as your cue to lean forward.

Your noses bump, and initially neither of you are sure which way to turn your head. It’s awkward and sweet and adorable, but when your lips finally connect all of that melts away. You soon both get into your stride, and it’s even hotter than it was in the library. You don’t have to worry about noise, or getting caught, and there’s no time limit - this time you can do this for as long as you want, and the thought of it fills you with a warm sensation that you can’t quite identify.

Eddie’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and as you run the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip his mouth opens instantly, allowing you access to him and he to you. Without hesitation he plunges his tongue into your mouth, and deftly swirls it around your own, moaning as he moves his hand to grasp the back of your head, just like he did in the library. It’s messy and hot, and with no fear of being discovered you're both much more vocal, sighing and moaning as you move against one another. Eddie’s free hand comes to rest gently on your waist, but you can tell he’s tense and holding back. You don’t want him, or you, to hold back anymore. 

You break the kiss and look at him. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, and his lips are parted, reddened and glossy with your shared spit. In one swift motion you twist, lift one leg, and position yourself astride Eddie’s thighs. Then, to his complete surprise, you teasingly fiddle with your hem for a moment before lifting your shirt up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra. You chose it especially, the delicate lace cups leaving your nipples visible through the sheer fabric.

Eddie’s eyes widen and his jaw goes slack and he’s just… staring, like he’s seeing colour for the first time. You allow him to look at you for a little while, and his awestruck, hungry gaze is almost as effective as his touch for increasing the arousal at your core. You run your hands down his arms until you reach his wrists, which you lift gently, bringing his hands towards your chest. Eddie realises what’s about to happen, and quietly mutters,

���Oh, fuck…”

You guide his hands and his palms are hot as you place them over your flesh, and the heat between your bodies increases as Eddie huffs out an open-mouthed,

“Haaaaaaah.”

His eyes are fixed on your breasts, and he seems momentarily frozen in place. He swallows again, but before you can offer words of encouragement his eyes flick up to yours, an almost pleading look on his face. You nod carefully, slowly, hoping to convey your meaning: go ahead.

You’re successful, and you moan with delight as Eddie’s gaze drops again and he begins to squeeze and mould your heaving bosom like he wants to memorise every curve, every feature. He pushes them together slightly, then up, then apart, all the while massaging them gently with his palms and fingertips. At one point he accidentally grazes your slowly hardening nipples, and it causes both of you to let out startled whines.

He’s humming involuntarily, and more than once you feel his hips roll upwards, positioning the substantial tent in his boxers closer to where you need him. You drift your eyes up towards his pillows as you ask,

“Shall we… get a little more comfortable?”

His nod is swift and it bounces his curls as he immediately begins to shift position. You stand as he shuffles to the centre of his bed and flops down, his hair splaying out over his pillow and his hands clutching mindlessly at the comforter, perhaps to ground himself.

You manoeuvre so your thighs are astride his, your naked cunt not quite touching him and shielded only by the drape of your skirt. You wonder whether Eddie might be catching the scent of your arousal. He’s staring at your chest again, and you surmise he’s got a better view now, with more space between you and the light from the window illuminating you from the side.

His eyes rove your form, and you can’t wait to see what happens when he views a real pair of actual tits for the first time. Locking your gaze on his face, you reach behind you and unfasten your bra. The small jolt as you undo the clasp makes Eddie jump slightly, and his eyes flash up to your face, his eyes saying, is this really happening?

You cover yourself with one arm and slowly slip the straps of your bra off your shoulders before performing a dramatic reveal, dropping the lace to your lap and then sweeping the flimsy garment off the bed and onto the floor.

Eddie’s eyes widen to the point where you think they might leave his skull, and his jaw drops and retracts a couple of times. A strangled sort of noise leaves his throat, and it sounds a little like he’s being gently choked. You check in with him.

“Eddie? Are you okay? Are you… still breathing?”

He inhales, loudly. Nope, he’d definitely stopped breathing. His arms lift a little and his hands hover over the bedsheets. His eyes haven’t left your chest, and you let him know that whatever he wants to do, you’re okay with.

“You can touch them, if you want?”

Eddie huffs out a long exhale, and the warmth of his breath fanning over your sensitive skin brings your nipples to hardened peaks. His fingertips tentatively brush at the sides of your breasts as his thumbs trace the undersides. It’s like he’s examining a precious artifact, and it’s the most reverence anyone’s ever shown your tits, or any part of you. You hear yourself gasp as your centre spasms.

This gives Eddie a little confidence, and he moves to cup your flesh in his hands, his fingers squeezing lightly. This time though, he’s looking at your face, assessing your reaction, seeing how he’s doing. You very much appreciate that he’s ensuring he’s not hurting you, or making an ass of himself, but it’s actually quite the opposite. You let out a tiny moan, and gift him with a louder one when the pads of his thumbs graze your peaked nipples. He does it again, with more intent. The combination of the roughness and heat of his skin feels wonderful.

Unbidden, he brings his forefingers and thumbs together on one side, and pinches lightly. Your abrupt groan surprises both of you, but in a delightful way. He does it again, to both nipples this time, and you groan again as your belly clenches and you involuntarily roll your hips over his thighs, the heat in your core intensifying. 

You let him play for a while, enjoying how he moans and swallows and moulds your flesh. His hands feel so good you’re reluctant to pull them away, but eventually you do, softly placing his arms beside him on the bed as you murmur,

“It’s my turn to touch you now.”

His nervous expression quickly dissipates as you gently lay your hands onto his chest. He’s so beautiful, like an alabaster statue, and he’s warm and responsive to your touch. You run your hands lightly all over his torso, tracing the planes, dips and curves of his musculature, and the designs of his tattoos. It’s simple, almost reverential, though the increased heat in your centre and the breaths stuttering beneath the pretty pink bloom flushing over Eddie’s skin suggest your touch is anything but holy.

There’s something you’ve been wanting to investigate for what feels like a very long time, and you’re delighted that you’ve finally got the opportunity. You run your palms over Eddie’s chest again, but this time allowing your fingertips to skim over his nipples. 

He twitches beneath you, almost flinching at the sensation, but from the gasp he inhales and holds you don’t think this was from discomfort. You repeat the action. His flesh feels soft and velvety, and they’re smaller than yours, but seemingly just as sensitive, and you hear him whimper as they peak beneath your touch. You had no idea a guy’s nipples could react like this, your previous partners never giving them any consideration or allowing you to explore like this. Eddie’s stuttering breaths and the way he’s trembling make you think they were missing out on something really special.

You draw tiny circles around each nipple with the pads of your forefingers, and you feel the bedsheets shift under you as Eddie grips them in his fists. Bravely, you experiment, and you move your thumbs to join your fingers, Eddie’s flesh between them. With the lightest amount of pressure you pinch, just a little, and release quickly.

Something guttural leaves Eddie’s chest, and his breath comes out in a rush. Buoyed by this, you squeeze again, with more pressure and for longer, and this time Eddie’s groan is accompanied by an upwards buck of his hips into the empty air in front of yours.

This is new, and you like it very much. From the deepening pink tinge appearing across Eddie’s cheeks and torso, you think he’s liking it too. You squeeze once more, and release. Leaning forwards and sticking out your tongue, you lick at one of Eddie’s peaked buds before delicately clamping down with your teeth and sucking gently, moaning quietly at the sensation of his delicate flesh in your mouth.

Above you, Eddie splutters,

“Shit! Oh shit! Hnnn!”

Oh yeah, those other guys were definitely missing out.

You decide it’s time for him to experience yours up close too. You lean forwards, bracing your arms either side of his head, the swell of your tits now hovering above his face. His gaze flicks between them a few times before flashing up to yours. You give him a soft smile and nod your head, and he hums as he slides his hands up over your waist, up your sides and over the warm flesh again. 

He moulds them in his hands, making you moan, and to make it all the more obvious what you want him to do you shift so one of your nipples is positioned directly above his mouth. He takes the hint and flicks out his tongue, just grazing your peaked bud at first before gaining in confidence and taking it fully into his mouth, sucking gently at first and then flicking his tongue over it.

You feel a jolt head from your nipple up to your jaw that ignites the entire side of your face with static electricity as another journeys to your core. You let out an involuntary groan, and, buoyed by this, Eddie suckles harder, simultaneously running his thumb over your other nipple. You moan again, your hips rolling over his thighs in search of friction. Shifting beneath you, he pops off one breast and latches on to the other, giving it equal attention and, daringly, pinching the first between his fingers. It’s intense, and glorious, and that electric spark is back, heading directly between your thighs. This is definitely something that’s never happened before.

He unlatches, and you’re a gasping, breathy mess as you move down to kiss him. He lunges up a few centimetres to meet you, and as you deepen the kiss your nipples brush against his chest. He whimpers, and grabs the back of your neck with one hand and between your shoulder blades with the other, pulling you down so your chests meet. You drop your elbows down onto the mattress to get closer to him, and rake your hands through his hair, grasping it and pulling at the roots gently as your hands ball into fists.

There’s no more reverence or holding back now, and your kiss is messy, wet and noisy as Eddie holds you to him, squeezing you together and shoving his tongue seemingly as far down your throat as he can. Your tits are squashed between you, and the pressure of his heated chest against yours is divine. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever done, and you can’t quite believe you’re having this effect on each other. You feel the stiff length of him pressing into your abdomen, and he feels so, so ready for this.

You hum as you kiss him for a while longer, feeling his length kick up between you and the dampness between your legs increase. You break the kiss and sit up, smirking at Eddie’s blissed out face and reddened, kiss-bitten lips. Watching him watch you, you open the side fastening of your skirt and peel it off, discarding it to one side, leaving you fully bare on top of him. His face is almost unreadable, such a mixture of emotions passing over it, but you think he might be a combination of reverent, horny and amazed.

You move yourself further up his thighs, finally settling your hips flush across his, settling down close to the substantial wet patch that’s been made by his leaking tip. Your naked centre sticks to the damp fabric as you drag it across his boxer-covered crotch. Ordinarily you’d be embarrassed at making a mess, but something tells you Eddie won’t care.

You were right. There’s no resistance from him, and he groans beneath you as you feel his hefty bulge press against your folds. His hands grip the bedsheets again as he mumbles out in a low breath,

“Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

His tone and his words only get you wetter, and you can’t help but roll your hips slightly over him, earning you another groan.

You don’t want to waste your slick on this fabric, and rise up onto your knees. With a playful snap of his waistband, you urge,

“Take these off.”

Eddie shuffles beneath you as quickly as he’s able, There’s the rustle of cotton and you look down in time to witness the slap of his hard member against his stomach. His cock’s flushed a deep pink, almost magenta, is more swollen than you’ve ever seen it, and is already drenched and glistening with precum. It smears across his happy trail as he shifts until, moments later, he’s naked beneath you. 

Still kneeling up, your cunt hovers over his bare form. His eyes scan your whole body, from your eyes to your tits, all over your torso, the soft hair covering your cunt, back up to your eyes again. Bravely, you think, he places his hands on your thighs, and you feel them tremble a little as he rubs and strokes gently. 

Slowly, you lower your hips. You feel your pubic hair brush first, before your warm lips make contact with his shaft and your most personal areas touch for the first time.

Eddie’s brows furrow as the slick warmth of you settles onto him, and his abs tense as he breathes out, low,

“Oh, shiiiiit.”

You’re both still for a beat before you brace yourself, palms placed flat on his chest, and begin to rock your hips, just gently, getting you both used to the sensation of having him pressed against your folds. His cock is hard, yet warm and soft, and Eddie huffs out heated breaths through his nose as you slide yourself along him. His hips start to subtly cant beneath you. By the tense look on his face you think it might be involuntary, that he’s holding himself back. 

You move for a little while before one particularly exquisite movement allows his cock to slip between your folds, and his swollen tip unexpectedly nudges your clit. You gasp and curl in on yourself, involuntarily closing your eyes and clenching your fingers, letting out a soft whine. 

Below you, Eddie makes a strangled hnnng sound before his breath hitches and he inhales quickly, his grip on your thighs tightening. 

Worried there’s something wrong, your eyes flash open. You’re relieved to see Eddie seems to be okay, though his eyes are blown even darker and his jaw is softly parted. You glance down at your hands on his chest, and notice a collection of angry-looking red lines where your nails have dug into his flesh. Horrified, you stammer,

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

Echoing your words from your second lesson, he smirks, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip, and he bounces his eyebrows as he admits,

“It’s okay, I kinda liked it.”

Smiling, you lift your hands to his pecs and lightly drag the nails of your pointer fingers further down his chest and ribs, down to his abs. Eddie moans again, and his hips roll upwards, his cockhead nudging your clit with more pressure and causing you to whine along with him.

Fuck, this feels so good, and he’s not even inside of you yet…

You don’t know how Eddie’s doing, but you can’t take much more of this. Feeling that it’s definitely time for his final lesson, you sit up, resting your palms gently on his belly. You’re feeling really good, but also nervous, which you know makes you verbose, and you can’t help but babble out too many options. 

“Okay, so, I’m more than happy for us to go all the way right now. But if that’s not something you want I’m obviously totally fine with that too. But… Shit. I guess I’m asking, do you still wanna… I mean, how far do you wanna go, really, with me?”

Eddie’s eyes search yours earnestly, and the gentleness of his reply instantly soothes your frayed nerves.

“I want it, Princess. I want to do it… all. With you.”

You smile warmly down at him. It’s the best response you could’ve had. He swallows before gesturing to his nightstand.

“Should I, uh… Should we…?”

You realise he’s asking if he should get a condom, and you’re grateful for his thoughtfulness. But you’ve been considering this, and you have an alternative suggestion. 

“Well… I’m on birth control for a period thing, and I'm pretty sure I’m clean because I’ve never not used a condom. I know you’re clean because, well, y’know. So… if you’re okay with it, we could, uh, do it without?”

He’s looking up at you, wide-eyed and mouth agape. All he can manage is a tiny, squeaked,

“Holy f—. P— please.”

Again, it’s the perfect reply. You’re still slightly incredulous that he’s trusting you to be his first, but you’re also excited to take on such a responsibility. You calm your breathing before kneeling up a little, glancing down and reaching between your legs to take ahold of him. You already knew he has the most exquisite cock you’ve ever encountered, and it somehow looks even more beautiful right now. You grasp him reverently, angling him upwards and dragging him through your folds to gather more of your slick. 

He’s hot and solid in your hand, and flashbacks of everything you’ve done so far flood your mind. Touching yourself as he watched, taking him into your mouth, getting each other off over the phone, your first kiss... It‘s all combined to lead you to this exquisite moment. 

Eddie sighs lightly and lets out a nervous hum, and then both of you hold your breath. You lower yourself a tiny amount, and his tip pushes in a little further as you notch him between your folds. He gasps. You lean over him, and stabilise yourself with your hands either side of his head.

“You ready?”

Eddie’s voice wobbles as he confirms,

“Fuck, yes, Princess. Please f-fuck me.” 

You take a steadying breath, and, keeping your eyes fixed on his, you begin to lower further. His fat head breaches you, and you bite your lip as you feel the stretch of him for the first time. Slowly, so slowly, you slide down, inch by delicious inch. You’re so wet he glides into you easily, although the size of him is something you’ll need to get used to. You relish the sensation of him stretching out your walls as they slowly envelop him.

You pause, and Eddie mumbles your name, barely audible, the hot huff of air filling what little space there is between you. It sounds like a prayer, or perhaps a spell. There’s a moment of silence and absolute stillness, yet it’s weighted, the implications heavy in the humid space between you. You both know how much this means, how things will never be as they were, especially for Eddie. As you slide lower, letting him fill you, his jaw drops further, and his grip on your thighs grows stronger. You sink down until he’s plunged completely inside your warmth, and immerse yourself in the way you’re accommodating him. Your hips finally connect with his, and as you seat him fully inside you already feel him nudging against that spot that he so deftly located earlier. You mumble out a stilted,

“Oh, god.”

It’s followed by a long, deep sigh from Eddie as he mutters,

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck— Ooooooooh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuccckkk!”

He’s closed his eyes, and you can feel the tips of his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. You enjoy the moment, savouring how he looks, how he feels. His hair splays out around him on his pillow like a chestnut halo, and his head is tilted back, exposing his broad, thick throat. His eyes flash open again and fix on yours; wide, dark mahogany pools that are somehow simultaneously a million miles away and boring into your very soul. His mouth hangs open in awe, shallow, trembling breaths emanating from his throat. He looks like an angel. 

He strokes your thighs for a moment before his large hands move to settle lightly on your hips. Placing your hands over the backs of his, you stay seated, tilting your hips ever so slightly to push down even deeper onto him. He practically growls,

“Fuck, Princess. You feel so fucking good.”

The growling nature of his voice sends an electric heat straight to your core, and the stretch you feel quickly morphs into a fiery need. You gaze into Eddie’s chocolate orbs as you warn him, 

“I’m gonna move now, okay?”

He swallows in preparation, and you brace your hands on his lower ribs. You tilt your hips, rolling them. It angles him differently inside you, his swollen head hitting harder exactly where you need it. It also brushes your clit against the dark, glossy hair at his base, and your walls spasm as a low moan leaves your chest and you feel Eddie’s cock kick up in response. He mumbles, voice low and lasciviously gravelly,

“Do that again.”

So you do, again and again. You find a rhythm, slow but satisfying as you rock back and forth. Eddie’s jaw drops open again and his lips form a soft ‘o’ as you move above him.

It occurs to you that everything feels subtly different. Of course, you’ve never been treated with such care before, never been brought to a point of such arousal, plus you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want Eddie in this moment. But you swear you can feel the flared edge of his cockhead as it drags against your walls, and every ridge and vein as you move atop him. You’d never previously considered how a lack of barrier might affect things, it always being a hard boundary for you, despite whining and cajoling from previous partners. You’d assumed it was mostly a ‘guy thing’, and you had no idea how it could affect your pleasure. But it’s abundantly obvious now. 

Eddie's lips are pursed, and his grip on your thighs intensifies again as you watch the muscles of his abdomen subtly tense. Perhaps it’s time he became a bit more… involved. You’re sure he can take it, and you know he won’t hurt you.

“You can move too, Eddie. Just do what feels good.”

He‘s tentative at first, tilting his pelvis subtly and pushing up into you with such care, as if he might hurt you, or something might break. It’s incredible, the small movements feel so good, and somehow more intimate and passionate than anything you’ve done with anyone else. You reward him with soft sighs and moans in time with his movements.

Gaining confidence, he begins to move faster, pulling out further and thrusting back in with more vigour. When you join him, moving and rolling your pelvis with larger movements in time with his, your breath coming out in increasingly loud rhythmic gasps and moans, his breathing quickens, his whole body flushes, and you can't help but close your eyes and drop your head back in ecstasy until Eddie’s hands clamp onto your hips and—

“Ohmygod, ooohmyGOD.”

He’s suddenly still.

You open your eyes to check in on him, and see Eddie’s screwed up face, his eyes and mouth twisted shut, his cheeks even redder than before.

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

He babbles, quickly,

“Don’t move Princess, pleasejustdontfuckinmove. This is fuckin’ amazing and I don’t wanna ruin it!”

You want to reassure him that everything he’s doing is perfect.

“I’m close too. It doesn't matter how long this lasts, just that we both enjoy it. And I’m really, really enjoying it. Please, keep moving, Eddie. For me?"

From his beautifully wide eyes and flushed face, this definitely isn’t going to last very much longer, but you mean it, you don’t care. You’re still puffy and sensitive from his earlier ministrations, and you know it won’t be long before you fall apart all over him. You both begin to move again, quickly rebuilding a rhythm. The soft thrusts of his hips keep perfect time with the subtle rolls of yours, the lewd sounds of your mingling juices only adding to your mutual enjoyment. 

Eddie lets out little uhs and ahs in time with your movements and you adore that you’re having such an effect on him. After a particularly deep thrust followed by a vociferous grunt, he grits out, through clenched teeth,

“Does it— Christ— Does it always feel this good?”

You reply, truthfully,

“Honestly? It’s never been this good.”

He stutters out a high-pitched chuckle as he confirms,

“Holy shit, I’m in fucking heaven!”

You lunge forwards to kiss him again, brushing your nipples against his chest as you slip your tongue between his eager lips. Once again Eddie’s hand grips the back of your head and he moans loudly as his tongue plunges into your mouth. You feel the warmth of a broad palm against your lower back as he pulls you flush with his chest. The shift in position arches your back, subtly changing the angle and spreading your centre even further. 

All too soon, Eddie’s thrusts become faster and less controlled, and you match his pace, rolling your hips and pushing down onto him with increased vigour. You break apart and move up just enough so he’s in focus, wanting to see him at this perfect moment. His eyes are glazed and seem to only be half-focussing on yours, and there's a tell-tale furrow in his brow. You wonder aloud,

“You gonna cum? I wanna feel you. Let go, please.”

His hips seem to take on a life of their own now he’s not holding back. His thrusts become more fervent, and his swollen member pummels that spot inside you. You feel his pelvis slam against your clit with every stroke, and your own release careens towards you, spots of light beginning to appear in your vision and the warmth in your core reaching a heated crescendo.

With a deep, rumbling groan, easily the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard, his final thrust pushes him even deeper and his cock begins to pulse inside you. You’ve never felt anyone’s release before, and the divine sensation makes you jam your hips down, triggering your own release, and you throw your head back in ecstasy, emitting a disjointed high-pitched whine. There's more low moans from Eddie as you clench around his still-pulsing member, and you barely register the bruising grip as he digs his fingertips into your hips. 

Eventually your movements still and, spent, you pitch forward on failing arms and collapse onto his chest, breathing heavily into the crook of his neck. After a moment he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and nuzzling into your hairline.

There’s a minute of stillness, and you revel in the post-orgasmic haze. Your cunt spasms with aftershocks, eliciting contented hums from deep within Eddie’s chest. You’re warm, satisfied and feel cosy and safe with his arms wrapped around you, and you wonder whether he’s feeling the same. You hum into his skin as he traces one hand over your shoulders and back. It’s bliss.

Eventually, Eddie chuckles lightly as he mutters,

“Fuck, Princess. That was… I, um… Fuck.”

He snorts a truncated laugh, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his curls bouncing on the pillow as his head shifts to look at you. All you can manage is a dopey grin as you reply,

“Yeah. Fuck.”

You chuckle in unison, shifting until your noses touch, both tilting your chins until your lips connect in a series of soft pecks.

You’re a little nervous to ask, but something in you has to know.

“How did it feel? Fucking for the first time?”

“Shit, it was goddamn heaven, I swear! Although technically, I think you did most of the actual fucking.”

“Oh no, you did absolutely your fair share! But we can change that, if you’d like. Are you up for doing most of the fucking another time?”

Eddie’s eyebrows snap up his forehead and he looks straight at you with surprise, and just a little disbelief. 

“You, uh, want there to be a next time…?”

You roll your lips together and consider your words carefully before replying. He really has no idea how good this was for you, or that he’s already so much better than literally every guy you’ve ever slept with. But you don’t want to stroke his ego too much, at least, not just yet. You hum and fake a look of disinterest.

“Well, I guess I could make time in my schedule, to, y’know, give you a few more lessons. Purely for your benefit, of course.”

His jaw drops in faux shock.

“Hey, I know I’m not exactly an expert, but if I’m reading this right you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

You can’t keep a straight face and burst into giggles, and Eddie follows you, his fingers snaking to your waist and easily finding your ticklish spots. You huff and wriggle, but make no real attempt to disengage yourself from his grasp. If anything, you end up more entangled, and from the contented sounds that emanate from you both, it’s not something either of you mind.

You lay together for a few moments, enjoying the peace and your shared heat. But eventually your hips start to ache, and with a groan of discomfort, and more than a little reluctance, you slowly start to move. His mostly-soft cock slips out easily, and as you roll off of him you feel your combined juices run out of you, dribbling over his abdomen and coating the inside of your thighs.

You sigh as you wriggle yourself into the crook of his arm, and lay your palm on his chest, tracing lazily up and down with your fingers.

You figure Eddie must feel the cooling stickiness, because he starts to move and asks,

“Umm… Do I— Uh… Should I…? D’you need anything?”

You keep it simple.

“Umm, something to clean up with would be nice. And could I, maybe, get some water?”

The mere fact that he’s asked the question already puts him leagues above others, but you’re briefly concerned that Eddie will see this as annoying, or demanding. To your relief, he seems entirely unfazed. 

“Sure thing. You get comfy here and I’ll just be a minute.”

He wriggles sideways and backs off the bed, his beautiful grin lighting up his glowing face. His hair’s a dishevelled mess, his torso is still tinged pink and the scratches you left on his chest are an angry red, but you’ve never seen anyone so beautiful. Unable to break your gaze, he doesn’t turn until he’s already partly through the doorway. It’s sweet, and lovely, but as he leaves you’re almost sad that he didn’t turn sooner, as you’re treated to the glorious sight of his pert, peachy butt bouncing slightly as he leaves the room.

You swallow, thinking that’s a sight you could definitely get used to, but then chide yourself. He’s obviously happy to do this again, but you have no idea whether he’s… feeling the same way you are. But at that moment you make a decision - you’re absolutely going to broach the subject before you leave. Definitely. 

Probably. 

Maybe...

There’s the sound of running water and minutes later Eddie returns with a warm, damp washcloth and a small towel, and promptly disappears again. You clean yourself up as best you can and then take him at his word and get comfy, wrapping yourself up in his sheets before rolling onto your side and perusing the myriad objects atop his nightstand. There’s a full ashtray, loose keys, a lighter, a couple of rings, an empty pretzel tube, rolling papers, a creased music magazine and a lot of dust. A battered copy of a Tolkien novel catches your eye, and you pick it up and start to flip through it. There’s folded corners and pages marked with scraps of paper, notes and doodles in the margins and words written in runes in Eddie’s messy scrawl. You imagine it must be one of his most treasured possessions.

Just as you’re halfway through deciphering a short runic message, Eddie enters with snacks clasped in his hands and between his teeth. There's water, cold soda, pretzels, potato chips, a bowl with a few grapes in it, and half a bar of chocolate. His soft, but still pretty, cock swings with abandon as he heads towards you and dumps his haul onto the bed in front of you.

It’s all perfect. He’s perfect…

As the final packet leaves his mouth he spots what you have in your hand.

“I brought snacks too, I hope that’s okay. Whatcha got there, Princess?”

You drop the paperback like it’s burned you, blustering,

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“That’s alright, you can look. There’s nothing incriminating in there. Not gonna tell you where that stuff is, mind you."

He pulls a comical face as he flops down onto the bed, the old springs squeaking in protest, and you giggle, thinking about your journal and wondering whether he does indeed have any similarly incriminating stuff anywhere, as you admit,

“I read The Hobbit once. I liked it, but I found the other books too heavy going. Is that awful? Are you gonna throw me out now?”

You wince and add a deliberately over-expansive pout. Eddie’s hair shakes wildly as he responds emphatically,

“Oh, god no! You’d have to do a lot worse than that for me to ever let you go…”

You think he’s just being funny, but then his eyes soften suddenly, and you wonder whether, deep down, he actually means that. Your tummy flutters at the thought. But before you can dwell, his face brightens, and, breaking your thought process, he continues excitedly,

“Maybe I could read them to you sometime? I could explain it as I go. And I promise to skip any really dull parts.”

You smile and nod eagerly in agreement, imagining lazy days spent cuddling with Eddie reading aloud to you as you play with his hair and memorise his tattoos. You can’t pass this moment up, you have to say something. And, in just a minute, you will. You’re almost certain of it.

You sit up and lean back against the wall, and Eddie joins you, pulling his sheets and comforter around you both. You lean in close as you snack on your impromptu and welcome picnic, sometimes feeding each other small morsels, and he makes you giggle as he kisses crumbs from the side of your mouth and fake-bites your fingers. 

Food devoured, you snuggle against him with his arm slung around your shoulders. You bring a finger up to trace his ink, and he hums contentedly as you run your fingertips through his soft chest hair again. 

Okay, girl. Just do it.

Gathering yourself, you take a deep breath, holding it for far too long before the words tumble out of you.

“I’ve really enjoyed this, Eddie. Not just, y’know, this, but also the tutoring, and getting to know you. Shit, I’m probably messing this up so bad. I guess what I’m trying to say is… and I don’t know how you’d feel about this, but… we could carry this on. Properly. If— you wanted to.” 

Eddie stares at you for a moment, before he stammers, 

“We— we could?”  

A goofy smile appears on his face.

Bolstered, you gather your nerve and continue,

“And… I could be more than just your tutor. If you wanted me to be?”

Eddie replies, with a little trepidation, 

“Are you serious? You’d wanna be more than, y’know, this?” 

He gesticulates over both of your pelvises.

“Yeah. I was thinking… Fuck, I hope this isn’t too much. Will you tell me if this is too much? I thought… If you like… I could even, maybe… be your girlfriend?”

Eddie inhales quickly and his chest puffs, you hope with joy, but fucking hell you hope you haven’t overstepped and it’s actually horror.

“If I’d like? Shit, I would absolutely like that. Very, very much...”

He brings one hand up to stroke the side of your head, and then runs it lightly down over your shoulder and the side of your arm. He places a firm, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back, smiling.

You stare into each other’s eyes, the gravity of the moment not lost on either of you. The nervous pit in your stomach is completely dissolved by a warm, honeyed sensation, as you slowly process that Eddie said yes, and that you’ve just snagged yourself the cutest, sweetest, sexiest boyfriend ever. 

You lean in, capturing Eddie’s plush lips in another chaste but oh-so-meaningful kiss. He presses forward to kiss you back, relaxing and heaving out a low sigh before his lips quirk into a devious-looking smirk, failing to hide his mischievous tone as he asks,

“I do have one question. If you’re my girlfriend now, do I still have to wait a whole week before we can do this again?”

You snort at his silliness.

“No, Eddie, you definitely don’t. In fact, what are you doing this weekend? Would you like to come over to my place? I’ve got plenty of ideas for more lessons, and I’m sure there’s lots we can teach each other.”

Eddie growls playfully before enthusiastically agreeing, prying excitedly for details like dates and times and possible activities. Although he seems more than fine with your company, you don’t want to push things too far or outstay your welcome, so when you glance at his bedside clock and see that it’s already way past the time you’d usually leave you turn to him with a resigned huff.

Eddie responds, 

“It’s that time already?”

You give him a glum little nod, and he continues,

“Do you really have to go? I mean, couldn’t you stay a little longer? I’d really like that.”

Smiling, you nuzzle in closer to him. 

“I was kinda hoping you’d say that boyfriend.”

In a surprising display of both strength and newly-found confidence, Eddie pushes your shoulder and flips you onto your back, scattering the empty packets and bowls across the bed and onto the floor. His pretty curls frame his face and tickle your cheeks as he looms over you, and his burgeoning erection feels hot as he presses it into the crease of your thigh.

He leans down, and his beautiful nose brushes yours as he murmurs,

“You know these lessons you’re talking about, Princess. How about we start right now?”

You hum into the kiss he plants on your lips and roll your hips upwards into him, making him moan. But before this particular lesson can go any further, you’re both disturbed by the sounds of the trailer door loudly opening and closing, and the rustle of fabric as someone removes what sounds like a heavy coat.

You and Eddie freeze, eyes wide and locked on each other's. 

“Oh shit, it’s my uncle!”

You gasp, and then both frantically sit up and scramble off the bed to get dressed, nervously giggling and flinging each other’s clothing across the room.

You’re almost done, and in record time too. But as you bend to retrieve a sock, Eddie's treated to the sight of your skirt lifting, revealing your bare cunt, a little of his spend leaking out of you. He’s momentarily struck dumb, and his jaw drops. But another noise outside snaps him back to reality. Stuttering, he mumbles,

“You don’t have any… uh…”

He waves a hand in the vague direction of your lower half, his cheeks reddening as he remembers what he did earlier on with your panties.

“It’s okay, Eddie. After that first time, I thought it would probably be a good idea to keep some spares in my bag.”

Standing, you wink at him. He pulls a thick lock of hair over his cheek, embarrassed, screwing up his eyes and realising he’s been completely and utterly caught. He tries to apologise, his words clipped,

“Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

“You know, from anyone else I’d have found it creepy, but from you I find it oddly flattering.”

He grins widely, and is just about to pull you into an embrace when there’s another noise, a gravelly voice this time, 

“Is this paper yours, son? You didn’t steal this from another kid again, did’ya?”

Eddie looks slightly bashful for a moment but there’s no time to dither. It's time to face whoever’s out there. Eddie opens his door and leaves first, beckoning you encouragingly to follow him. Standing in the narrow hallway by the kitchen, you come face to face with Eddie’s uncle for the first time. He’s clutching Eddie’s test paper, and his deep frown, grizzled features and broad frame cut an imposing figure. When he eyes the pair of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous. 

Eddie speaks first, and addresses his uncle, a little sarcastically,

“Yes, that is indeed my test paper. And I’ll thank you for not looking quite so surprised.” 

The big man’s brows furrow a little deeper, and you can’t tell whether it’s with consternation or amusement, as his gaze flicks between the two of you. Eddie clears his throat and introduces Wayne to you, and tells his uncle your name. You think that’s it, until he straightens up a little, and with a confidence you weren’t expecting he slips an arm around your shoulders. He grips you tightly before adding, with a little nod, as if he’s practicing the words and still convincing himself, 

“And, uh, she’s my girlfriend.”

Oh. You like how it sounds coming from his lips.

Wayne’s forehead crinkles as his bushy eyebrows raise, but before you have time to worry his face splits into a wide grin. He extends a work-grizzled hand and shakes yours powerfully as he says, in a much lighter tone,

“Well, ain’t this the nicest news for this old soul to come home to. It’s a pleasure to meet you, darlin’.”

His voice is warm and kind, and you believe it. Looking between you and his nephew, Wayne adds,

“Do we have the pleasure of your company this evening? You caught us at a good time, I’ve just been huntin’n’gatherin’.”

He gestures towards the kitchen area. You see full bags piled onto the counter, mac’n’cheese boxes, eggs and a few vegetables peeking from the tops, and realise it’s a dinner invitation. You gape a couple of times, far from expecting this level of domestic intimacy, and Eddie seems to pick up on it and answers for the both of you.

“Not tonight. I’m gonna drop this lovely lady back home, and then I’ll come help you chop veggies, ‘kay?”

He sweeps an arm wide, directing you towards his front door, and you pad over to collect the rest of your belongings, careful when you bend so as not to reveal your lack of underwear to anyone who wasn’t expecting it. You clasp Eddie’s divine drawing to your chest, handling it with especial care. Behind you, you hear the two men mutter-whispering, Wayne speaking first.

“Is this the tutor girl you’ve been talking about non-stop these last few weeks? You finally asked her out, huh?”

You can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds,

“Keep your voice down, old man. Um, that’s not exactly how it happened, but yeah, that’s her.”

Eddie looks over to you with a fond smile on his face as you pick up your backpack, and he comes over to you and helps you with your shoes before you leave ahead of him. The last thing you hear before the door closes behind you both is Wayne speaking once more.

“Good for you, son. It’s about damn time!”

Series masterlist General masterlist

Thank you so much for reading! (And for sticking with me through the longest update gap I think I’ve ever had, ILY 🙏💗) This completes our main ‘lessons’, but don’t fret - I have some more Extra Credits planned for these two 😉

If you liked this please, please like, comment and, especially, reblog - it’s the only way fics stay alive, and it means so much to writers to get your reactions and feedback, it’s what keeps us sharing our work 💗💋

“It’s that time already?” is a prompt from @promptsh20, it fitted so well with this section of the story I just had to include it 😊 The “It’s never been this good” lines are adapted from a film, the name of which I’ve now forgotten 🙈, and the “Do that again” was inspired by a Ryan Reynolds line in Green Lantern (if I can’t have him say it to me IRL I’m damn well gonna have Eddie do it in a fic 😛)

I proofed this as much as I could but my brain turned to mush, so if there are any errors or anyone grows an extra limb or something please tell me 🙏😅

Taglist part one: @airen256 @bimbotrashcan @urlbitchin @guiltyasquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @abellmunsonmovie @sheneedsrocknroll92 @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @wonderlanddreamer @leatherfaceologist @munson-blurbs @paradisepoisons @lokidokieokie @rcailleachcola @fckyeahlames @kurdtbean PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU CHANGE YOUR URL OR DON’T WANT TO BE INCLUDED ANYMORE

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. v

pairing(s): Art Donaldson x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader summary: You try to navigate the complexities of a relationship involving Art and his wife, Tashi, as well as their boyfriend, Patrick. warnings: smut 18+, like three different sex scenes at least, masturbation, threesomes, consensual voyeurism, piv, everyone is bisexual, the trio kinda shares reader, adults (parents even) running around like horny college students, a bit of domesticity, silly poly adventures, hastily proofread word count: 6.5K prev part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

It’s feels like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

You quickly snatch your hand away from Tashi’s neck. She clears her throat, and you bring both palms to smooth down your thighs. 

The sun isn’t shining as brightly as it was before, but it’s enough to feel exposed under the scrutiny of Art. 

Though, you can tell that he isn’t angry about what he just walked in on. Instead, he looks like he wants to get a closer look, but stayed back out of fear of interrupting.

He’s still standing in the doorway when you remember the reason you were there in the first place. 

“Wait—where’s Kaleb?” You gasp.

“He’s uh,” Art stammers. “I left him back in the kitchen. He wanted a post-training shake.” He’s got his hands on his waist as he continues to assess the two of you. “I told him I was gonna go find you guys…” he trails off, finally making his way closer to the couch that you two are occupying. 

You peer up at him like a child about to be corrected. 

“So, uh, what’s this?” He says dragging his hand under his chin like he’s amused. 

“Um,” you glance at Tashi. She’s sporting an equally amused expression as she takes in Art’s still evident bulge. You go to answer, but she beats you to it. 

“What’s it look like?” 

Art’s eyes cut to hers, and they appear to have a conversation between their gazes that you aren’t privy to. You decide that’s your cue and stand to leave the room. 

Just when you think you’re going to slip past, Art catches your wrist in his hand. 

“Where’re you going?” His voice comes out in that gentle, calm tone that you’ve come to expect from him, but his eyes are sharp. His gaze alone making you feel like he’s holding you down with a hand wrapped around your neck. 

“I was gonna go get Kaleb,” you murmur. 

“Alright,” he brings a hand to your waist. “Just a second?” 

You nod despite yourself. 

His thumb rubs over your hip, making you shiver slightly. He drags his eyes down your figure before looking over to Tashi. You follow him.

She’s staring at the both of you, lip tugged between her teeth. Her legs are crossed neatly. The hungry look in her eyes does nothing to deter from the regality she’s currently exuding. 

You’re still staring at the visage of Tashi when you feel Art’s lips capture yours, pulling your attention back to him. 

You melt into him, instinctively bringing your hands to trail up his arms. His skin is slightly damp and cool to the touch as your fingertips trace the muscles that flex as he wraps his arms around you tighter. He presses the palm of his hand against your spine as your head tilts back to allow him into your mouth. 

The way Art kisses you is familiar, yet the feel of him still ignites something in your belly. It’s almost violent, the way it completely takes you over. Nothing else exists. Just his lips, his tongue. His hands that pull you closer to him. His teeth that nip at your skin. Just him. 

You gasp out his name as he dips his head down to press open mouthed kisses along your jaw. He has you fully pressed up against his front, one hand cradling your head and the other holding you in place by the hip. You release a shaky moan when you feel his tongue lave at the skin below your ear. 

There’s an almost imperceptible creak behind you, but Art’s ministrations keep you fixed on him. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs continuing to place kisses onto your skin. “Y’know that?” 

Before you can respond, you feel a hand snake around your waist. It’s not Art’s. 

You look down to see their slender fingers traveling down your hipbone and shudder when you feel stiff nipples press into your back. 

Tashi carefully pulls your hair away from your neck, placing a delicate kiss to the skin there. The motion makes you arch your back into her, which she takes as an indication of your consent. 

Your breathing starts to dramatically increase as you take in the feel of Tashi’s hands sliding over your body along with Art’s. He wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours as she takes over nipping at your neck from behind. 

Tashi seems to enjoy pinching your skin between her teeth and watching as it makes you squirm in their hold. One bite in particular makes you whine into Art’s mouth. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently shushing you as she rolls her tongue over the stinging skin to soothe you. 

You whimper, but relax into them once again. 

Art cups your face in his hands, whispering “good girl” against your plush lips. Your pulse quickens at his praise. 

You want to fuck him so bad. Both of them. 

And when Tashi lithely brings her hands under your top, trails her nails up your skin before pinching your nipples, you almost give in. 

But you remember the reason you’re here. 

“Wait,” you reluctantly pull away. 

Tashi releases her hold on you, and Art steps backwards to give you some space. But he grabs ahold of your hand instead, not ready to let you go just yet. 

You rub your thumb over his hand in yours. “I need to go,” you say softly. “I’ve gotta get Kaleb home.” 

He nods, allowing you to release his hand. 

You clear your throat. “And, um, I also think I need some time to…think about all of this.” 

Art looks confused by your statement. As if reading his mind, Tashi answers for you. 

“Yeah, of course, you probably need some time to process,” she reassures you, but her gaze is locked on her husband. Her eyes telling him “let her have this, don’t push her.” 

When you find Kaleb, he’s knocked out on the sofa, clearly worn out from the day. His protein shake from before sits half full on the coffee table. Art tells you that it’s more banana smoothie than anything. He offers to carry him to the car, buckling him into his booster seat. After softly shutting the door, he makes his way to your side. 

“You’re not upset are you?” He’s giving you that look. The one he makes before resorting to groveling. 

You sigh. “No, Art, I just,” you glance at your son through the window. He’s still sound asleep. “I just found out some things today that surprised me. About our relationship.”

He swallows before leaning his side against your car, head hanging low as he takes in your words. 

“I didn’t know Tashi knew about us.” You say simply. 

Art raises his head. “I—I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You scoff. “Of course it was, Art! You know that would’ve made things easier for me.” You cut a glance at Kaleb again as he shifts in his car seat. You wince before lowering your voice. “I felt like I was your mistress, Art, why didn’t you tell me the truth?” You ask. “And I don’t buy it’s because you didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You raise your eyebrows at him as he picks at his fingers. “Art?” 

He sighs, stepping away from the car before turning to face you fully. “I wasn’t sure you’d be into that.” You furrow your brows. He stammers to fix his statement. “I mean I didn’t know if you would want to get involved in a situation like ours. It was almost easier to just not talk about any of it,” he trails off. “And I could pretend I was just a normal guy who met this wonderful woman. And I didn’t want to ruin it.” He’s looking at you with pleading eyes. 

Art’s voice softens. “But I know it was selfish of me to avoid it because of my own comfort. I should’ve been transparent with you from the beginning.” 

You only cross your arms. 

Art steps closer to you. “I promise I was going to talk to you about it—about everything…especially now that I—“ 

“Even about Patrick?” You raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Were you planning to tell me about that as well?” 

“Yes,” he nods. “I was also going to tell you about Patrick.” He reaches for your hand that’s tucked into your arm. 

You’ve learned that, for Art, part of the communication process is maintaining a physical connection. It’s like if he isn’t touching you in some way, the words won’t resonate. So, you let him take your hand in his. 

“I also wasn’t sure how’d you’d react to that,” he mumbles. “Not everyone is keen on finding out that the man they’re sleeping with is also attracted to men.” 

You almost can’t believe him. “Art—“ you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “It’s me. Of course I don’t care that you aren’t straight, hell, neither am I.” You laugh lightly. It brings a soft smile to his face. 

“If anything, it would’ve been good to know before I slept with him,” you say, quickly looking off before he can process your words. 

“Wait, what?” 

You sigh internally. 

“When did this happen?”

You try to wave him off. “Oh it was just a random thing a little while ago. We were both high, and I’d ran into him at a gas station one time, and it was my anniversary week, and you were busy and it just happened…” you say, stringing all your words together. “You know how it is.” 

He shakes his head. “When were you planning on telling me about this?”

You bite your lip, avoiding his gaze. 

Art sighs at your lack of response. “You know what? Let’s save that for a later conversation.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best,” you say as you turn to check on Kaleb. “I’d better go,” you nod your head in his direction. 

Art takes a look at your son before agreeing. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

He lingers in his driveway until you’ve buckled your seatbelt, making you promise to text him when you’ve made it home safely. 

ᯓ

You take some time to process the situation you’ve ended up in. It’s harder than you’d expected. You’d gotten so used to Art’s presence in your life that not seeing him makes you feel like an addict going through withdrawals. Your fingers itch to text him when you see something he’d like, and you yearn to at least hear his voice at night when you’re alone in bed and devastatingly horny. 

Some nights, when you're at your lowest, you wonder if Art is also thinking of you, if he ever touches himself to the thought. You bite your lip, maybe he buries himself in the warmth of Tashi to cull the ache, or maybe it's Patrick he turns to.

You ease the throbbing between your thighs to the looping thought of him and Tashi and Patrick, and Art and Tashi, and Patrick and Art.

Despite it all, you reluctantly ignore Art’s requests to meet up, emphasizing that you just need a bit more time. You don’t think you can handle seeing him. 

In truth, you’re feeling scared again. Although Tashi had effectively shown you that she was a willing participant in this, your nerves still get the best of you. Your anxiety working to come up with all types of catastrophic outcomes. 

Worries triggered by deeply rooted insecurities fester in your brain like what if Art and Tashi really are using you? What if this is just a temporary thing? Something to spice up their marriage. Maybe the Patrick thing wasn’t enough for them. Will they drop you once they’ve gotten their fix? 

And even worse, what if it’s not just a fling? What if you can’t ever imagine going back to how your life was before Art? How would it even work? How would Kaleb react? 

It's evidently clear how much Kaleb adores Lily, but you're not sure how he'd approach the idea of possibly being step-siblings. God, how would you ever begin to explain the the complexities of your relationship to an eight year old?

Thinking about it makes your head throb and your stomach churn. So, you settle for avoidance. You don’t have to confront the unknown if you never encounter it. Easy. 

ᯓ

Unfortunately, your attempt at going cold turkey with the Donaldson’s is thwarted when you see them at a PTA meeting. You’d gotten there early, as usual. Nancy’s husband, Frank, had helped you carry your cookie-filled containers into the building. You think he might just enjoy getting first dibs on whatever goodies you've decided to bring.

You’re surprised to see Tashi as she’d stopped regularly attending them after Art retired. She chooses the seat next to yours, placing her purse down before draping her Burberry coat over the chair. Art pulls out the seat beside her, stealing a glance at you as he settles in. 

For the entirety of the meeting, you’re completely distracted. You keep glancing at Tashi’s long legs that are crossed beside you, your eyes trailing from the pointed toes of her shoes up to where her hands are clasped in her lap. You think you’re being discreet, but when Tashi stands to greet amigurumi Cynthia, who’s eager to tell her about the new options on her Etsy shop, Art catches your eyes with a sly smirk. 

Most of the parents have started to leave, but you remain seated, unable to free yourself from this obvious trap.

Art takes the opportunity to slide into Tashi’s empty seat, smug smile still stamped onto his face. You look down at the napkin he’s holding with a half-eaten snickerdoodle cookie. “So, how are you?” He asks before taking another bite. He's trying to ease his way into it, you can tell. He presents the question so casually, but underneath that cool collectedness, you know he intends to ensnare you.

Your chest rises as you inhale. “Hmmm, it’s a Monday night, and I’m stuck here,” you tease. “But I suppose it could be worse.”

“Yeah, and at least we have good snacks.” He offers. 

You nod in agreement before gesturing for his cookie. He holds it out to you and you pinch off a piece before bringing it to your mouth. Art watches as your tongue darts out to lick the crumbs that stick to your lipgloss. Whatever is swirling around in his gaze is exactly why you’ve been avoiding him lately. 

You swallow when Art turns to face you. His hair has gotten longer, making his curls drape over his forehead as he leans against the chair. He gives you a soft grin. “So…how do you feel about going to get dinner tonight?”

And there it is.

“Oh…um,” you start, searching for an excuse. 

“Before you start, I know your mom keeps Kaleb on days like this.” 

You curse internally. “Okay, well what about Lily?”  

“She’s at home with Patrick.” 

You glance over at Tashi, who’s attempting to end her conversation with Cynthia, and begin to open your mouth. 

“And Tashi’s fine with it. It was her idea.” He says, absolutely beaming. 

You sigh and stand up from your chair. 

He leans forward, elbows pressed into his knees. “So, what do you say?”

You groan. “Fine, I’ll come.” 

The two of them help you pack up your containers, patiently waiting as you open the trunk and instruct them on where to place them. When you turn around from shutting the trunk, Tashi steps forward, closing the distance between you two.

It feels eerily similar to a night, mere months ago, in that very same parking lot. 

“Thanks for agreeing to dinner,” she says softly, reaching out to rub her palm down your arm. Even through the sleeve of your puffer coat, you shiver at her touch. Thankfully, it’s cold out, so you can blame it on the temperature. 

ᯓ

About an hour later, you’re seated at a cozy restaurant, tucked into the corner booth. It's not especially busy, but a delicate clatter of voices and clinking utensils accompany the soft jazz that's playing. You’re sandwiched between Art and Tashi as they talk about the first time they met. 

They tell you about the Junior U.S. Open, how both Art and Patrick asked for Tashi’s number, how she had promised not to be a homewrecker. You smile wistfully, the thought of them young, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed making you feel a sense of nostalgia on their behalf. 

Tashi places her hand on your thigh for emphasis when she tells you that Art had been so adorable and polite. “All he wanted to talk about was how amazing my tennis was.” She grins at him before taking a sip from her glass. “That’s probably why I kissed him first.” 

“First?” You lift your brows. 

She nods. 

“So, did you like all kiss at the same time or…?” You ask, glancing between her and Art. 

She hums out a laugh. “Look, I was eighteen, you can’t blame me for not wanting to choose.” 

Art chuckles. “Well, what’s your excuse now?”

He’s joking, but you see the way his mouth slightly twitches. 

Tashi scans his face and purses her lips. “Two parasites latched onto me when I was young, and I still haven’t figured out how to remove them.” 

This seems to bring a genuine smile to his face. He looks at you. “You see what I have to deal with?” 

You shake your head at their antics. You think that maybe you can relate to eighteen year old Tashi. 

It should feel odd. Being on what feels like a date with the man you’ve been having an affair with and his wife. Yet, when you all leave the restaurant, and they walk you back to your car, one of them on each side, you think that it feels surprisingly natural. 

When Tashi leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, you sigh into the cool night, eyes fluttering shut. 

And when Art inevitably presses his forehead to yours before kissing your tingling lips, you know this is something you won’t be able to avoid any longer.

ᯓ

Before long, you fall into a routine with the two of them. They take every opportunity they can to wine and dine you, and when Tashi is working, Art has no trouble keeping you occupied. 

The time you spend with him is not much different from before. Except now, instead of coming to your place every time, you spend the night with him on your free weekends. 

Art lets out a deep sigh that reverberates through him when he finally sinks into your cunt in his marital bed. He presses you into downy pillows that smell like his wife and whispers words of praise. Telling you how perfect your pussy is, how you feel so good around him. You get high on it, head almost exploding from the rush of it all.

Maybe it’s the freedom that’s come from you all being on the same page, but sex with Art ascends to a higher level. Without the guilt weighing you down, the only thing you feel in your gut when you’re with him is his cock as he pounds into you. 

Art fucks you like he’s determined to make you never want to leave him. Every stroke feels purposeful. Every motion communicating something you’ve feared confronting. 

After Art coaxes a third orgasm out of you one night, you cling to his tacky body as hot tears spill from your eyes. 

He’s quick to wipe them with his thumb, asking if you’re alright. You can only nod and sniffle as you let him hold you and press kisses to your tear stained face. 

He says something to you, but the words don’t register as you give in to the seduction of sleep, your body having been exhausted beyond repair. The three words he’d uttered float over your head and disappear into the dark.

ᯓ

Art and Kaleb continue their tennis lessons. Apparently, he’s showing a considerable amount of potential. And Art’s eyes light up when he boasts about how much Kaleb has improved since they started. 

He wins his first junior tournament, and you swear you see Art wipe a tear. He ignores your taunts and asks Kaleb how he’d like to celebrate. Without reservation, he excitedly asks to get ice cream with Lily. 

It’s late November, and the night air is likely too brisk for it, but you and Art agree to take them to their favorite ice cream shop. You hesitantly let Lily order for you, as she’d asked you to pick out a table for them and urged you to “trust the process.” 

You watch them with a smile on your face as Kaleb all but presses his face to the glass obnoxiously, which makes Lily pull him by the arm and say something that you can’t hear. Whatever it is makes your son roll his eyes, but he uses his sleeve to wipe the spot where he’d left condensation on the glass. 

When the three of them join you at a table next to the window, Lily instructs Art to feed you her surprise concoction as her and Kaleb await your reaction. You close your eyes before playfully glaring at them in suspicion, then let Art place the spoon in your mouth. 

“How is it?” 

“Hmm…chocolatey.” You answer. “I like it.” You take the cup and spoon from Art as you dig into your chocolate ice cream with M&M's sprinkled on top. Lily grins as Kaleb insists on trying yours. Art chose strawberry flavored, to which you wrinkle your nose. 

Later, the two of you sneak a kiss after the kids fall asleep in the backseat, and you decide you can’t get enough of the taste of strawberries.

When Art drops you and Kaleb off at home, he tells you goodbye with a quick kiss to your hand. You’re smiling from ear to ear as the cool wind whips your hair around. He attempts to say those three words again, but he’s interrupted by Lily groaning loudly from the car that her tummy hurts. When he turns back to you, you’re already chasing after Kaleb who’s run to the front door holding his trophy over his head. 

ᯓ

“Don’t look at him,” Tashi tuts at you. “Keep your eyes right here, baby.” She tilts your chin up with her index finger, forcing you to look at her.

You tear your eyes away from Art where he kneels on the bed next to Tashi. Like her, he’s completely naked. His cock is bobbing between his milky thighs, still shiny from your spit and his precum.

Tashi had rubbed your clit as you sucked him off moments ago. But, she pulled you off of him before he got a chance to cum, making you lay down under her.

You toss your head back when she aligns her pussy with yours, mouth falling open. 

She starts gently rocking back and forth, your clits bumping and sticking to each other.

She turns her head in Art’s direction and takes his mouth in hers. You cant your hips up to meet hers as you take in the way their mouths move against one another. 

“You like seeing me fuck your little toy?” Tashi whispers into Art’s mouth. He groans her name, mouth open wantonly against hers. 

“Look at her, baby, she’s so pretty like this, huh?” 

Art nods and tries to reach out a hand to touch you, any part of you, but Tashi places a hand on his wrist. 

“Hold on.” She looks at you. “You want him?”

You keenly nod your head. 

“Say please,” she murmurs, still grinding into you. 

You choke out a moan. “Please, Tashi can I—can I have him?”

She looks at Art and nods her head down at you, giving him permission to touch. 

Art leans down to grab your face between his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.  

Then, he’s shimmying himself down to the bed to lie down beside you. He finds your neck and starts trailing kisses there. You arch your back as he tweaks your nipple with his thumb and forefinger before skimming down your stomach. 

He replaces his fingers with his mouth as Tashi continues to use your cunt. Art’s eyes flutter shut when he closes his mouth around one of your nipples. He releases a muffled moan, and you realize he’s grinding his dick between the space created by your hip and the mattress. 

He tries to inch his hand down lower, where yours and Tashi’s pussies are kissing each other. When his fingertips brush your clit, you shudder, and Tashi slaps his hand away. 

He easily recovers, bringing his palm up to caress under your breasts. 

Art seeks out your mouth again, moans into it as the rutting of his hips begins to sync with the motion of Tashi rocking against you.

You gasp. “It’s too much—m'gonna—”

Art whines against your mouth, and you feel his hot cum coat your thigh as his hips stutter against you. Tashi releases a guttural moan that makes you reach out for her. She presses her fingers onto your tongue as you begin to convulse below her. 

You can feel her throbbing against you when you come down from your high. Art’s head is pressed against yours as he stares at where you and his wife are still connected. 

Before climbing off of you, Tashi splays her palm over Art’s face, pushing him backwards, mumbling about how he “made a mess.”

You giggle in agreement, making him bite down onto your bare shoulder with mock annoyance.

Tashi walks to their large master bathroom, her nude hips swaying. You peel your eyes away from her as you turn your head to face Art. 

He smiles softly before rubbing his nose against yours. You’re giddy, and your eyes are twinkling, and Art feels like his heart is beating too fast to breathe. He has your full attention, so he says it. 

“I love you.”

The words have no place to go but to your ears. Without thinking, you pull him in by the back of his neck, press your forehead against his, your eyes locking. “I love you too.”

ᯓ

“You know I think it’s really unfair that you make me babysit while the three of you fuck without me.” 

“Oh, please, spare me, Patrick,” Art says as he bumps his shoulder against his on his way around the kitchen island. 

“No, I’m serious, you two’ve basically been courting her,” he points at Tashi and Art. “As I stay at home playing Stepford wife,” he pouts. “When do I get my turn with her?” 

“Wow, Patrick, your turn?” You sneer at him. “I’m not a pony.”

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” he says, grinning at you. “When do I get my second turn?” 

“Oh, screw you!” You say shoving him by the arm. “Is that all I am to you?” 

Tashi tries to hide her laugh in her cup of coffee. 

You attempt to maintain your scowl of disapproval, but the steam seeps out of you when Patrick envelops you in his arms from behind, pressing his lips to the side of your head. “Of course not. You know I like you for your big…brain.” 

You roll your eyes at his inability to be serious about anything, but instinctually lean back into his chest. 

The two of you hadn’t slept together since your rainy day way back when, and not for his lack of trying or your lack of desire. The tension between you two threatened to boil over at any moment, but you thought it was a good idea to ease into this thing with the trio.

So, you had refrained from fucking Patrick, but you did spend time together when possible. When he wasn't busy with tennis, which wasn't very often.

Despite his foolishness, Patrick makes a good friend. He’s surprisingly easy to vent to. You never have to worry about the risk of him passing judgment.

Like the time you’d gone on a rant about your ex-husband and his fiancée.

“I mean it’s fucking sickening the way she acts so polite now! The bitch had the nerve to ask me to be one of her bridesmaids, Patrick! Her bridesmaid.”

He frowned at you around his cigarette. “Ugh, that’s fucked.”

"That’s what I said!"

“I hope she has a freak accident before the wedding,” he murmured. “Maybe not fatal, but like a coma or something so you don’t have to deal with her.”

“Ugh, no, that would only delay the process and give Chris a reason to play victim for however long,” you said dismissively. “I can hear him now,”you deepened your voice to imitate him. “I can't believe you’d try to hold me accountable for my wrongdoings at a time like this. My freaking fiancée is in a coma.”

Patrick chuckled. “Yeah, true, but honestly, that bastard would probably ditch her anyway. It’s hard to be a trophy wife from a hospital bed.”

ᯓ

He has a way of looking at you and seeing through all the layers. In a way, you think you two were bound to bond, both being connected to a married couple.

During moments like this, when you’re all together, it feels like you’re less outnumbered. Though, you suppose Art clings to you too much to ever really be free of him, not that you’d want to anyway. The two of you had been attached at the hip ever since he told you he loved you. Patrick had joked that you were in the honeymoon phase.

Tashi leans across the marble countertop, and pats Patrick on the cheek. “Aww do you feel left out?” She coos to him before pushing herself up from the barstool. 

He brushes off her derision opting to focus on eating the rest of your breakfast croissant.

Art can’t help but snicker as Tashi gushes to Patrick about how good you taste coming on her tongue. She goes to place her mug in the sink before grabbing a handful of your ass, making you gasp as her nails poke into your skin. Patrick groans around his croissant and glares at Art, his face already tinted pink. 

Tashi leans her forehead against yours, the two of you giggling before she pecks your nose sweetly. “Okay, I have to go,” she sighs. 

You nod, but pull her in for a kiss on the lips, dreading the end of your time together. You had been spending the weekend with them while Kaleb stayed at his dad’s. But, Tashi would be leaving for the day as she had an event to attend. 

“Maybe the three of you can catch up while I’m gone,” she winks before squeezing Patrick’s shoulder. Art rolls his eyes at the implication, but he smiles when Tashi whispers something in his ear on the way out. 

ᯓ

After debating about how to spend your day, you begrudgingly agree to join Art and Patrick on the tennis court. The sun is offering enough heat for you to feel comfortable as you chase Patrick’s serves. You start out teaming up with Art, the two of you playing against him. 

Patrick quickly figures out that he can win by aiming between the two of you. Art, ever the gentleman, only returns the ones Patrick serves directly to him, leaving you the opportunity to hit the ball. While you, on the other hand, assume that Art’s going to get it, leaving no one to actually return the ball. Once the two of you get on the same page, Patrick has won enough games to win the entire match. 

When you switch, and Art later beats you and Patrick, you start to think that maybe you’re the problem. 

You feel like a kid again, the three of you running around as your laughs ricochet against the court. You cheer when you manage to actually place the yellow ball where you want it to go. You had served an ace, but you're sure Art had purposely let you have it. By the time you’re done, you’re sweating and beaming. Art dabs your forehead with a towel, and Patrick gives you a piggy back ride back to the house. 

You swing your legs back and forth and place a kiss to his ear. It should gross you out when you taste the saltiness of his sweat on your lips, but it only makes you tighten your arms around him more. 

It occurs to you that you might’ve forgotten how to have fun as an adult. It’s been so long since you’ve felt true joy in a relationship. Your marriage to your ex had sapped you of your gleeful youth, and for awhile, you didn’t think you’d ever get it back. 

You hadn’t had the official “what are we talk” yet, but you know you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

So, when Patrick later dumps you onto the bed, after you’ve all had lunch and cleaned up, you sink into the mattress and let him press kisses all over your face. 

“I wanna eat you up,” he groans, the vibrations making you laugh as his beard scratches your jaw. 

You extend your arm out for Art who is already making his way towards the two of you. Both men hover above you, moving in sync as they mouth over your skin. Every so often their lips meet each other, tongues darting out to get a taste. 

Patrick promptly pulls the oversized t-shirt you stole from Art over your head, making your messy curls even more chaotic. 

“I’ve waited so long to fuck you again,” he says before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. 

You try to tell him he’s being quite dramatic, but a moan interrupts you when he starts twirling his tongue around your hardened bud, at the same time as Art drags his wet mouth down your abdomen. 

He’s on a sure path toward your underwear, stopping to admire your face before dipping his fingers into the hem. 

Patrick gets impatient and places his hand over Art’s, making him tug your panties down faster. But before either of them can get their mouths on you, you raise your leg up and place the sole of your foot against his abdomen. Patrick looks up at you, his pupils dilated and eyebrows scrunched together. 

Art’s wearing a similar expression, and you can barely contain your grin as you push your foot forward, making Patrick raise up on his knees. You push yourself up and lean back on your palms. 

“Not yet, I wanna do something different,” you say coyly. 

“Yeah?” Art, always eager to please you, leans forward and plants a kiss on your collarbone. “What do you wanna do, baby?”

You trace the side of his face with your fingertips before tucking a few loose blonde strands behind his ear. “Show me what you do when it’s just the two of you.” 

Art almost chokes, clearly not having expected your request. Patrick smirks. 

“Well, well, well,” he says, crawling towards you. “Who would’ve taken you for a voyeur, huh?” 

“Shut up, Patrick,” you say, grabbing his jaw in your fingers. You level your face with his. “Just show me.” You say as your lips brush against his. “Can you do that for me?” 

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he says and pulls you into a rough kiss. You moan into it before pointedly shoving him off. 

With your heart thrumming and your lip tucked between your teeth, you inch backwards, propping yourself up against the headboard. You meet Art’s gaze, and all it takes is a short nod from you to snap him out of his trance. 

To your surprise, Art grabs for Patrick first. He leans down over him, pulling him in by the back of his neck. He uses his thumb to tilt Patrick’s head back as he deepens their kiss. You think you can feel the butterflies in your own belly as you know just what it feels like to have Art kiss you like that. 

He strips Patrick of his shirt, barely breaking the kiss and slowly lowers himself into his lap. They continue to make out sloppily for what feels like hours before Patrick brings his hands around Art’s waist and pushes his shirt up as well. It’s then that you notice, Art has been lazily rolling his hips into Patrick’s. The sight makes your clit throb, and you drum your fingers on your knee in an attempt to withhold from touching yourself.

Art laces his fingers through Patrick’s dark curls as he starts to plant sloppy kisses along Art’s jaw. He eventually licks a stripe up the side of his neck before nipping at his earlobe, to which Art bucks his hips forward. His head is thrown back, eyes shut tight in pleasure. Just Patrick’s touch alone seems to be getting him off. 

Once they’ve rid each other of their remaining clothes, the two come back together. This time, Art traces figure eights along Patrick’s skin with his tongue as he lets his large palms roam over his body. When he gets to the small of his back, he bites down into his neck gently before spreading his cheeks apart and dipping his middle finger between them. 

You think they’ve both forgotten about you as they get lost in each other. Patrick takes both his and Art’s hard cocks into his hand, slowly jerking them.

You can’t resist it anymore. You bring your hand between your legs and start rubbing circles over your aching clit. 

The action must catch Patrick’s attention as he glances over at you with a sly smile. Suddenly, he leans over and cups his hand under your chin. He sticks his thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, and motions for you to spit. 

You obey him and spit into his waiting hand. Patrick then takes your saliva and uses it to glide over his and Art’s members. 

Art releases a broken moan as Patrick’s hand moves around them faster. They start to take turns pushing their tongues into each other’s mouths. And at the same time, you dip your fingers into your slick and spread it over your clit. 

When Art starts circling his middle finger around Patrick’s hole and humping into his hand, your head falls back against the bed frame, your eyes still glued to them. 

Before long, they’re spurting white ropes of cum against each other as you follow behind in quick succession. 

You finish with a whine, your knees drawing together as you clench your thighs. 

Patrick is slumped against Art, his head laid on his shoulder as they both watch you. “That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” he laughs, making Art also release a full bellied laugh, his eyes crinkling.

ᯓ

When Tashi comes home later, she flicks on the light to find the three of you in a pile on her bed. 

You’re halfway straddling Art, cheek pressed against his chest. Patrick’s heavy arm drapes over your back, his face shoved into Art's shoulder as he softly snores. 

She sighs at the spectacle. Yet when she goes to turn the lights off again, she wears a smile on her face. 

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I had to fight through a bout of writer's block and the pressures of being a senior in college to get this done. I hope you guys enjoyed it. <3 as always, my asks are open!

Tags: @fallout-girl219

[raynewolferune]

Later Constantine will say he should have known better the moment he opened the door to see a "harmless" child standing there with an arm still raised mid-knock.

"What." Constantine grumped, glaring bleary-eyed at the scamp that had just woke him up far to early from his hangover nap. (Nevermind that he'd been less napping than fallen unconscious or that it was rapidly approaching evening instead of anything close to morning.)

"Are you John Constantine?" The kid asked, eyes widened like a startled deer at the sight of him.

"Who's bloody asking?"

The kid blinked, face twisting into and muoe of bafflement.

"Me?" He answered pointing to himself with one hand. The wooden boards beneath the teen creaking as he shifted his weight uneasily.

Constantine just gave kid a deadpan glare. That told him bloody nothing. Thanks so much.

The kid shifted again, hefting the strap of his backpack up a bit to resettle the bag slightly more comfortably on his boney shoulder. The bag was visibly heavy and the seams of the fabric creaked and groaned a bit at the movement. Bloody hangovers giving unfortunate assholes like himself bloody superhearing sensitivity.

Constantine clenched his teeth against the agony lancing through his skull in vicious spikes to keep from snapping at the kid. The scrawny berk hadn't done a thing to deserve being chewed out but a hungover brit.

"Fine." He ground out. "Come in."

He stalked back into the darkened living room leaving the front door open wide behind him. If he had to entertain company hungover as shit at least he wouldn't have to do it with the bloody sun trying to gouge out his bloody eyeballs.

The kid followed him hesitantly into the house shutting the door softly behind himself.

"What are you here for?" Constantine asked as he strode into the kitchen and started assembling himself a hangover home remedy. Not a true magical cure unfortunately, he'd let himself run out of those. His past self was a bloody bastard. Fuck that guy.

The kid set his backpack carefully down on the other end of the countertop from him.

"I accidentally removed some kind of magic mind control device from my new adopted dad." The kid started seeming less uneasy now that they were finally on what was the teen's anticipated script for this interaction. "CW said it was too dangerous for us to contain and told me to bring it to you."

Well.

Alright then.

At least he wasn't going to have to clean up some over zealous morons fuck ups later on.

Constantine sighed and held out a hand.

"Sure kid. Give it here and I'll take care of it." He said. Kudos that the kid immediately unzipped his bag and picked up the magical item as told to hand over (bloody hell, he hadn't even noticed the sprog was wearing gloves). "Holy Hell what the bloody fuck is that." Constantine breathed out horrified body locking up in an instinctive freeze response as his face drained and his very bones grew cold.

"Magical mind control" his bloody arse that was a damned shackle.

It looked a bit like a jewelry-fine chain that was blackened and crusted in something like old blood but thorns (long, slender, and sinesterly curved with wicked sharp barbs along their edges) were dotted along it's surface. Even as Constantine stared, the cursed binding rapidly curled around the child's left hand blessed blocked from digging into his flesh by the thick protective gloves the boy wore. The binding writhed across the kid's hand and wrist for several moments before seeming to realize it would never manage to reach his skin and settling on a tight grip instead. As it stilled it began to pulse and throb almost like a beating heart.

"Oh I am never going to touch that." Constantine choked out in a strangled wheeze. The boy startled.

"Wha-but you said-!"

"Yeah, no," Constantine said waving an arm Ina way meant to be reassuring as he took a healthy step back from the kid and the cursed object said kid was holding. "I'm still going to take that thing off your hands and contain for you." Bloody literally. What fresh hell is this. "I just ain't got any kind of gloves or gear that'll make me safe holding that damned thing like you." He explained taking another stumbling step back and bumping into the fridge.

"Oh." The kid said shoulders lowering a bit as he started to relax a bit with the knowledge Constantine wasn't about to just abandon him with that thing. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense." He said nodding slightly, paused, and then frowned slightly. "What are we going to do about this then?" He asked shaking his imprisoned (bloody hell was that thing growing?) hand slightly as emphasis.

Like Constantine could possibly forget they were discussing the nightmare fuel in the room with them right now.

Constantine forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. Calm down. Just calm the hell down. What the bloody hell could he do about this?

He forced himself to take another deep breath.

He felt uncomfortably sober at the moment.

"Okay," Constantine breathed out again. First thing first, there was no way in hell he'd be containing this thing here in his house. He'd never sleep again.

Justice League vault it is.

"Okay," Constantine repeated more firmly, meeting the kid's gaze and gesturing for the boy to follow him. "Let's head to the Watchtower to start. Can't do nothing else until we're there regardless."

The Bat was going to have his arse for bringing a civilian up there but frankly Constantine couldn't bring himself to give a shit.

Not evil?

Danny had never felt so bewildered. The probable concussion didn’t help but he doesn’t think that would change anything really. Pariah Dark had invaded, he had to finish his parents ecto-skeleton suit ASAP just to get enough power to beat him, then in the process of fighting him he had hit Pariah in a way that the impact rippled through him and something had popped out and clattered to the ground.

Pariah had frozen in place, his form wavering, before he completely changed appearance. Then he was practically bawling about finally being free and giving unending thank yous while clinging onto Danny. Exhausted and his brain not computing Danny just let him while trying to understand what just happened.

Danny had later passed out and upon waking learned that Amity was returned back to their dimension and rebuilding. He had been collected by Clockwork and returned to his friends with a note to go see him later.

After recovering for a week he had gone to see Clockwork. He had assigned him a mission to take the item that had controlled Pariah to John Constantine for destruction. He was even given a royal scroll to present to him as proof. When asked why he was doing it Clockwork had been his usual cryptic self. With a sigh Danny asked how to find Constantine and was told to go to the Justice League’s Watchtower.

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 7

content warning: mentions of blood, some violence, FINALLY 18+ so MDNI, dry humping 😁, like a smidge of fluff, some Spanish (as always, correct me if I'm wrong)

word count: 2.3k (we're back with some sense)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

Gabriel jumped as the grand doors slammed closed.

The room was quiet minus Kron groaning on the floor.

“I’m going to kill him!” he shouts, hand trying to cover his bloodied nose.

“If you try, you’ll be disowned,” Tyler frowned down at him. Gabriel had never seen him without a smile on his face. It was scary yet familiar. It was times like this that Gabriel was reminded that he and Miguel were different.

“Dad, are you fucking serious? He just assaulted me!” Kron cried in disbelief as Nancy tried her best to clean his face.

“It was nothing you didn’t deserve. Surely, you’re grateful that I pulled him away.”

“Tyler. Our son is hurt! And bleeding out on my expensive carpet,” Nancy bit back, snapping at a butler to bring her a health kit.

“My other son is also hurt,” Tyler replies with his voice even, looking at Nancy and Kron as if they’ve lost it.

Gabriel could see George tense up at Tyler’s acknowledgement of Miguel as his.

“All this time and effort spent on putting this whole thing together and for what? What did I gain?” Tyler said lowly as he took his glasses off.

“I’ve spent two decades raising you and the older you’ve gotten, the more you have disappointed me. Twenty years spending dollar after dollar on your schooling and wellbeing. Ten years of watching you grow. Ten more years of watching you drift and become someone I’m not sure I can even call mine. What happened to my boy? What have you done with him?”

Gabriel was outwardly wary of what would happen next. Internally though? He was bullet-pointing every dig.

His name wasn’t Gossip Gabriel for nothing.

He watched as Kron shook on the floor. A simple hangnail could probably make him breakdown.

“Almost two decades I’ve watched from the sidelines as my son grew up without me. I watched as another man took my place. I watched as my careless actions were formed into a son that I could not connect to, talk to, or even hold. So please, forgive me if the few times, no, the one time I have the opportunity to build that connection, I am furious that it is ruined by my eldest son and his entitlement.”

“Entitlement!? What entitlement? Every time I say something it’s wrong, but Miguel is all of a sudden this perfect son that you wish you had. I wasn’t the one that ran that girl away.”

“Watch it, boy,” Conchata hisses.

“No, you watch it!” Nancy snapped back.

“Silence!” Tyler’s voice boomed throughout the house. “What all of you fail to realize is that the special guests have been iced out of my home! Kron, I may not have been there for you at every moment, but I have never taught you to disrespect women like you’ve done tonight. You owe several apologies.”

“You cheated on mom to have a bastard baby.”

Gabriel only blinks as Tyler moves to hit Kron in the mouth. Just as fast as Miguel.

“And what your mother fails to tell you is that she cheated first. I am not perfect, but neither was she.”

“Escandaloso,” Gabriel leans over to whisper to Dana.

“It would be best for us to talk after you’ve gone to the hospital. Make haste, lest you make me angry, son,” Tyler says with venom-coated words.

Nancy, with help from one of the butlers, scrambled to get Kron up and out of the door.

Tyler took a deep breath and put his glasses back on. He turned to Conchata as started to unbutton his cufflinks.

“Conchata,” he said. “Level with me, what did you really not like about Miguel’s girlfriend tonight? I know you too well and her weight is not the problem. She’s beautiful, intelligent, talented, and we can both see that Miguel loves her.”

It was Conchata’s turn to look shocked. She looked around to everyone staring at her, waiting for a proper answer.

She stuttered trying to get her sentences out, “Why am I being held to the fire right now?”

“Ma, I’m not sure if you remember, but you quite literally criticized her body and expression,” Gabriel said. He was never afraid to step up to her when it came to Miguel, he just had to gauge how far he could go.

“I didn’t intend to do that,” Conchata starts.

“Honey, you stopped her from eating her food,” George chides. “It doesn’t get any worse than that.”

Conchata was silent as she sat back down, staring at the centerpiece, “I just-”

“No puedo creer que fueras tan grosera con ella, Conchata. Miguelito is right. You should be ashamed,” Gabriel’s abuela said. (I can’t believe you were so rude to her, Conchata.)

She got up and came to Conchata’s side, “You have fussed at him all his life. Nothing he did was ever good enough for you. You can not choose now to try and control him.”

“Tyler, can you have someone take me back home? Oh! And pack me one of those yummy cherries too,” she said as she gave him a hug and a pat on the cheek. She then proceeded to give everyone a goodbye but her daughter.

“I truly apologize for this hectic night,” Tyler announced to the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see how I can make this up to Miguel. You all can use my home however you need.”

Gabriel cleared his throat now that he was left in a room with his parents and Dana, “Well. Did you guys like the meal?”

“I thought the filet mignon was fabulous,” Dana replied.

They leaned together and giggled.

Gabriel had a lot to spill to Miguel.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You wake up unbelievably warm, the bed sheets piled on top of you. You lift your head from the thick pillow, and waited as the AC hit your face.

Sun was coming in through the cracks of the drapes. It was all quiet except for the light snore coming from Miguel’s side of the bed.

You turn to him and he’s out from under the covers, bare muscly back to the world. You swallow around nothing as you watch the ripples of his muscles move with his breath.

Who knew you were going to wake up to this delicious sight?

You move quietly, shuffling to the bathroom to pee and freshen up. You felt miles better than you did last night. You felt even better as the memories come back to you. Your boyfriend really took a stand for you.

When you walk out the bathroom, you don’t expect Miguel to be sitting up on the edge of the bed, bed head and sleepy eyes.

“Are you up? I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say, voice light and soft.

“I moved over and you weren’t there,” Miguel yawned. “Couldn’t go back to sleep ‘till I found out where you went.”

You shuffle to his side of the bad, “Just went to the bathroom.”

He opened his legs and pulled you in. He laid his head on your chest, kissing the skin through the fabric as placed his hands on your ass.

“G’morning,” he said, voice scratchy.

“Morning to you too,” you said while scratching his head.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, peering up at you.

You give him a small smile, “I’m feeling better.”

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, bringing your hands to the nape of his neck. You twirl your finger is his hair absentmindedly.

He puckers his lips, waiting expectantly. You giggle and lean down pecking his lips.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries and brushes his teeth, wanting to continue this mood. You were rocking one of his shirts and some panties. He still wanted to see if the offer from last night was still up.

GymRat!Miguel who crowds your space on the bed, hovering over you as he kisses your lips. He’s feeling particularly ravenous and all he wants is you. Your grip on his shoulders becomes tighter as he slots his tongue in your mouth.

GymRat!Miguel who is definitely a virgin. Sure, he spent his free time researching how to make you feel good. He even shyly asked Peter for advice. It still doesn’t negate the fact that he has put none of these things to use.

He pauses as things start to get even more heated, sharing this news with you. You’re a little shocked but you promise him it’s fine to take it slow. You have never done penetrative sex with anyone either. Feeling more relaxed, he dives right back in.

GymRat!Miguel who has you grinding above him. Your clothed sex slides against his, two layers of cotton separating you both. You’re whining against mouth as he moves your hips. He’s humming at every noise you make.

As much as he wants to go further, he has a need to fulfill your desire first.

Plus, he was dumb enough not to bring a condom.

He opens his mouth to take a nipple in through your sweater. It’s thick, but he sucks hard enough to get the job done. He watches as you tilt your head back and moan loader, hips stuttering.

Miguel watches you in awe. He’s never seen you like this before. So needy for him. It was a contrast to how you usually let him take, take, take.

He moves quick to lay you on top of him, finally getting his dream of you over him.

“Miguel?” you ask, wary of your weight.

“Nuh uh, baby keep going. Don’t stop,” Miguel says, swerving your hip along his.

You fall down from a sharp buck of Miguel’s hips, moaning from the friction and holding your hands against the headboard.

Miguel was in heaven watching you roll your hips faster and faster.

GymRat!Miguel who flips you over as soon as you come. He is grinding better against as you lay on your back. Your tits ate bouncing under his sweater with every jerk. He wanted to take it off, but you were still a bit self-conscious.

For now, it was fine because you looked so good in his clothes, nipples hard and ready just for him to devour. In the future, he hoped to have you see how beautiful you are in his eyes.

You’re sensitive, thighs tightening around his waist. He softly moves one of them, gaining better access for his bulge to slide against your clothed clit.

“Miguel!” you cry, voice high.

“Give me another one, come on,” he says, mouth moving to your ear. “You’re doing so good. Just need one more.”

He feels you nod your head, arms wrapping around his neck.

You yell his name as you come again, thighs shaking.

GymRat!Miguel who comes through his underwear on top of you. He pulls your sweater up a tad to watch some liquid pool on your stomach.

“Fuck,” he heaves, smearing it with his thumb. You were fluttering against him softly.

You were laid out under him coming down from your high. Your breaths were slowing down and you were looking at him, blissed out.

This was better than his dream.

He rubbed up and down your bare thighs, watching as they twitched when he grazed your inner thighs. He walked his fingers down to your panties, running his knuckles over your mound. The fabric was wet, evidence of what you two just did.

He starts to pull the fabric tight, watching as your folds imprint through the cotton.

What a pretty sight. Your body so open with his cum on your smooth skin.

Mine. All mine.

He’s about to press against your clit again until you say something.

“Huh?” Miguel asks, in a daze.

“I asked if you could go get a wet towel,” you say.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, frantic movements as he hobbled out of the bed. He was acting like an idiot, gawking at you instead of talking.

GymRat!Miguel who realizes that he put you both in a sticky situation as he wipes your stomach off.

“It’s fine. ‘Was hot,” you whisper, completely flushed.

“Yeah? You liked it?” Miguel asked, giddy.

You nod your head, “You made me feel really good, so yes, I did like it.”

“Is that so?” Miguel mumbles, leaning close to your face. “Might have to do more next time.”

“More? Like what?”

“Like finally getting you to sit on my face,” he says in your ear. He finally got you to put your weight on him, all he needed was that final push.

“Oh my god,” you drone, covering your face dramatically.

“What? Baby, it’ll be so fun! I promise!”

GymRat!Miguel who finally checks his phone while you both wait on room service.

Abuela 💕:

“Miguelito!”

“Call me when you can!”

“dile a mi muñeca que mi casa es su casa!” (tell my doll that my home is her home)

“And I don’t want any new grandbabies so soon so control yourself”

Pa:

“Miguel I hope you can forgive your mother”

“She needs some time”

“I’ll be sure to talk to her”

“It was also lovely to meet your girlfriend”

“I’m proud of you mijo”

Gabri 🤏🏽🤡:

“Bro”

“You missed SO MUCH!”

“BDHDHDHDJEBE”

“I wish I could have streamed it”

“Tyler SWUNG KRON’S BODY TO THE SIDE….”

“Ok no but fr”

“It’s def confirmed that you’re Tyler’s favorite 🤷🏽‍♂️”

“Kron got socked in the mouth by Tyler”

“That’s def where you get your punches from ngl”

“OMG”

“Did you know that Nancy cheated on Tyler first?”

“Crazy. Ik. You don’t have to say anything”

“Anyway”

“Tell my girl I said gn 😁 her breakfast in bed will be waiting on her”

Dana:

“Your dad’s kinda hot”

“Tyler not George”

“But you know who’s hotter?”

“Your gf”

“Give her my number. Plz and ty”

Dad….Tyler:

“Son I sincerely apologize for this terrible evening.”

“Kron will be reprimanded. No need to worry about that. You only taught him a valuable lesson in reality.”

“If I can, may I make it up to you?”

“I added a few more days to the hotel.”

“And my doors are, of course, always open to you.”

“Please reach out to me soon.”

Ma:

“Miguel please come home”

“I need to talk to you”

divider by: @plutism + @benkeibear 🩵

a/n: AHHH! If you're reading this, then this (hopefully) means that I have finished and turned in my Senior Thesis 🥺. As a gift, please tell me you how you feel. You guys have been so kind to me on here, so I hope you enjoy today's chapter. There are more great things coming soon!

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili

@obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting

@flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02

@jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies

@samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu

@urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms

@love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx

@lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @cl3stevu

@ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

[namelessgakusei]

EP 3.1 This is how you shoot

Devil May Cry x Reader Insert

Warnings: It's DMC. Based on the New Netflix Series. Spoiler warnings for the actual show. Not proofread. Slightly canon divergent. (Y/N) Lore. Posted out of spite?

Note: This was on my drafts but like lmao it got accidentally posted.

EP 2.3 Amen. (prev.)

EP 3.2 Take Aim (cont.)

Synopsis: Your capture made you dream about a past long gone.

The front sight of a Glock aligns perfectly with the target, a few feet away from a child no less than five as they barely wrap their hands around the gun's grip. "That's right, baby. Keep that little tip of the triangle aligned to the mark. If you do, you'll land the shot." An older man gently says as he supports your form, correcting your stance and giving tips on how to have a better grip.

"Bang." You muttered when you pulled the trigger, the gun clicking into place as it releases no bullets, but it didn't deter you from "shooting". Your determination for a five year old pleases your father, with your face scrunched up in an exaggerated frown, he smiled as he ruffled your hair and brought you up in his arms. "That's right. That's right. You would make a fine soldier, yeah?"

"Are you teaching them how to handle a gun, again?" Your mother sighs by the doorway, arms crossed as she raises a brow at the sight. "They won't learn anything if they can't experience the real thing. They should know about the drawback when it comes to shooting a gun."

"They're only five." Your father protests as you keep your attention on your mom, who had gone over to pick up the empty gun you used for practice. "This is too heavy for them, I bet they can't even lift this properly on one hand." She frowns as she examines the weapon, weighing it on her hand, cocking it before aiming at the target in a swift motion. Like what happened to you, the gun clicks itself due to the lack of ammo.

"I'm going to build their strength, of course!" Your father laughed heartily and grabbed your mother's waist in one hand while he carried you on the other. "Then they'll join the army, get promoted, and soon join my squad!"

"You mean DARKCOM?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, lacking excitement that your father wanted to see in his children whenever he gives them the push to join the army.

"Of course, baby." He grins and leaned his head over yours. "We'll eradicate this world of demons, you and I."

"They can't even finish their food." Your brother snickers from the inside of the house, face smug as he teases you. "How can you expect them to survive in the army, Dad?"

Your family laughed as you struggled against your father's grip, knowing that you'll chase your brother in retaliation once you break free.

"Listen 'kay? Mum doesn't have to know about this, okay?"

"Okay."

"You won't tell? Promise?"

"Promise." You nodded with excitement, barely six years old as you trail behind your older brother and his friends. You noticed him sneaking out at night in the past few weeks and insisted on coming with you when you finally caught up. He seems to think that you'll tattle to your parents but you're not a snitch! Besides, you've never snuck out like this! So you agreed, nonetheless.

You don't know where they're going, but you have a rough idea of what they're doing, having seen "clues" inside your brother's drawers. Bullets. But not the usual calibers, no, there's a vial of something green inside.

You tugged at your brother's hand as he held yours to keep you two from being separated. "Where are we going?" But he only grinned, telling you that this is just like the training your father gives the both of you. "Shooting?"

"But better, we'll be shooting real targets." His friends all donned a kind of smile that looked a bit too smug. You can't quite pinpoint why this feels wrong all of the sudden, maybe you should've told your parents about this before. But looking back, you can't exactly go back on your own, as you've been going through dark alleys and corners. Just where are you headed that permits going to an abandoned warehouse?

"There's our guy!" A man laughs upon seeing your group, greeting them with a handshake and a hug. There are a few older men around the area, each in possession of rifles or guns, before landing their eyes on you. "Is this the young master?" One of them crouched down to your eye level and grinned, trying to coax you out from hiding behind your brother.

"They insisted on coming." Your sibling laughs and pats your head, telling you that it's alright to meet the others. At his words, the men around nodded and smiled at each other, noting that it's better for them to start early so they get used to it soon. At that time, you had no idea what they were about to let you join in, but with how you are right now. You deeply regret asking to come.

Inside the warehouse are cages that contain a few green humanoid creatures, with tiny horns that protrude on their heads. The older, bigger ones, grimaced at your appearance, speaking in something you fail to understand, but they look more concerned than afraid. Their fear returned moments later when one of the men kicked their cage, rattling the demons inside. Your brother hands you a strange looking gun, a bit blocky compared to the usual firearms that your father makes you practice with, before helping you aim at a demon that they let out.

That demon was about your size, they looked at you with wide eyes, arms raised in surrender while pleading to you in a foreign language. It looks weak, hunger-stricken based on the dip on their body and the obvious marks that littered around their skin. One of the men with you kicked them down when they reached out to you, sensing your reluctance to hurt them, but they weren't the only ones who noticed. The people around you kept talking about how demons are the pests of the world, of how they are nothing more than insects meant to be crushed down, and that you shouldn't hesitate in killing them.

"Kill it!"

"Shoot it. (Y/N)!"

"Shoot!"

You woke up with a jolt, before immediately squinting your eyes due to the sudden brightness above, although something seemed to have blocked it the moment you closed your eyes. Your neck aches a bit due to how stiff your "pillow" is, making you groan and turn your head, but something keeps bugging you.

Why the hell do you smell Dante?

It's not even a whiff, you genuinely smell the guy like he's smushing you close to his chest whenever he needs to protect you. While it's comforting at times, it starts to reek. Not only that, you can't move your legs nor your arms, are you bound? With an exhale, you open your eyes.

And there he is, looking down at you with an uncharacteristic serious face, and speaking with a gruff tone. "Hey you, you’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?"

"You walked right into that imperial ambus-"

"Are you seriously quoting Skyrim right now?" You squinted with a frown, making him shrug. Groaning, you squirmed as you recalled the events of last night. Right, you got caught. Damn it, this wasn't how you planned this out! ...It's alright, you can flip this out to your favor later. You tried sitting up but failed after a few attempts, the sleeping gas might still be in your system, and Dante's thighs weren't much of a cushion for your fall.

"No wonder the pillow was hard." You sighed with a deadpan tone, missing the glint on Dante's eyes upon your words.

"You know what else is hard?"

You never sat up so fast in your life, accidentally giving Dante a headbutt, granted, that wasn't your intention, but hey, at least you got to sit up!

taglist!: @mischiefmanaged71 @tamashithe2nd @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @96jnie @flwerie @deathrye

[ma1dita]

bedtime stories

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> feed the fire | next -> crazy little thing words: 2.4k summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don't mind at all. You won’t admit a lot of things to Luke Castellan, but perhaps he knows something you don’t. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader warnings: none, banter and fluff on a night shift a/n: Introducing luke castellan x trouble!reader… this is just gonna be ongoing blurbs and one shots of an idea in my head (and my latest hyperfixation) reader is essentially reformed unhinged bitch now camp mom and it’s enemies to friends to lovers. Working through reading the pjo series hehe (posted 1/16/24, beta’ed by the lovely @ttulipwritezz @mrsaluado & @lixzey thank you bunches)

—

Dragging your feet across the dirt of the forest floor, you sigh to yourself in the quiet night air. It’s gonna be another long night and with the beep on your digital watch, you blearily peer at the time and sigh. Almost 11. Swaying slightly, you whistle a familiar tune as your nimble hands straighten out the deck chairs near the firepit, pick up trash to toss into the receptacle, and turn off the lights in the dining hall. All on the way to check Cabin 7, mind you, and the Apollo kids will undoubtedly loop you into singing a song with them before you shut the lights off and close the curtains.

Gods, your dad is definitely gonna hear about this in the morning.

It’s not like Mr. D ever really cares, or listens, more focused on droning on about missing his wife and playing pinochle even when you rattle off his…your to-do list for the week to keep Camp Half-Blood running and the younger demigods in mostly one piece. Honestly, he should be grateful he has you, and even if he is, he’ll never let you hear it.

At least you’re Chiron’s favorite.

A shadow passes your field of view, and before you can rub at your sleepy eyes, strong hands pin you to the side of a tree on the dirt path you were supposed to take across camp.

Sorry, let’s correct that—you’re one of Chiron’s favorites. The other all-star camper stares at you like you’re a three-headed dog under the beam of his flashlight.

“Just me, Castellan,” you grumble, a bit winded as you blink harshly at the bright light. “Still doing checks.”

“You’re losing your touch. You making a habit of going to bed late?” Luke smirks, and it’s actually annoying how he always looks like he knows something you don’t.

“You always pin campers to trees?”

“Just the pretty ones.” His smirk turns into a sly grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Okay loser, I’ve got cabins to check,” you drone as you push off from the tree. “6 cut into my time after staying there longer than I had to. The little ones kept asking these otherworldly philosophical questions and Annabeth just laughed at me while I tried to not pluck my eyelashes out one by one.”

Your clipboard taps lightly against your hip despite the aggression in your voice and Luke laughs much like his little sister, a burst of sunlight overflowing into the dreary and mundane. Your lips quirk upward before you can stop and remind yourself of who you’re talking to. The tall boy reaches behind him to scratch the nape of his neck and sighs, sucking at his teeth.

“You’re always doing the most, huh?”

“Who else is going to, my dad? He’s probably already out like a light.” Once, you found your dad asleep at his desk after dinner, snoring loudly instead of keeping watch. You started taking more night shifts after that.

“Well, no. You know I’m here to help you, even if you’ll never admit it.” Luke extends a hand to you so it’s easier to navigate the step back onto the dirt-trodden path, but there’s no fun in that, so you hop around him and start walking away. The sound of his footsteps fall and match yours as he follows you, both in tandem like the sound of a steady heartbeat.

“The day you catch me admitting anything about you is the day the Underworld freezes over. You should know that by now.”

“Woooooow, so I don’t get a thank you for singing the Apollo kids to sleep? You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked in and not you. They ended the song pretty quickly after I opened my mouth to croak out a chorus,” he says, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and nudging your side as you both laugh.

He’s a terrible singer, to be honest. Not even the Fates would’ve expected that from someone who otherwise seems like a perfect boy. Sometimes you wonder what he’s done in a past life to have it so easy–to look like he’s been chiseled by Michelangelo, have the athletic prowess of ten Spartan soldiers, and the heart of a hero only legends could get right. He’s probably the closest thing to an actual hero here at camp. You often find yourself looking at him in hopes of finding a crack in the porcelain of his perfection, but any fault of his seems to just build up his endurance in his quest for glory.

Maybe that’s why your dad doesn’t like him, his aspirations for something greater than the camp that’s kept you safe all these years, though the multiple complaints and headaches the both of you have given him as squabbling teenagers must’ve added onto that. Sometimes, though, the way he helps ease your load prods a funny feeling you do your best not to acknowledge in your stomach. Luke walks ahead shining the flashlight onto the dark path so you both don’t trip. It’s there now, at the sight of him offering an arm for you to latch onto to hop over fallen branches.

Mental note: tell the satyrs to move that in the morning.

As you hurdle over the brambles, you let go immediately after you steady your feet, moving his hand that’s holding the flashlight back towards the path with no other words. You are your father’s daughter after all, and he knows this—stubborn and your name have the same face.

Moving further towards your destination, the light reveals a teenage couple entangled within each other’s arms at the base of a tree out there for everyone to see in the moonlight.

“Jeez, guys, alright— pack it up, wrap it up! Could’ve at least found somewhere private… It’s curfew already, if I see you two again it’s a citation.”

The boy blushes and mumbles an apology to you, scurrying back to cabin 7, and you raise an eyebrow at a sheepish son of Hermes who swears they were all in their beds when he was singing to them.

“I don’t wanna go back to my cabin, all the boys are gross…” the girl whines, cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she flutters her eyelashes at you and Luke. You sigh. What has the world come to that young demigods are entrusted to the care of two people who barely consider themselves adults?

“Well, if you’re still in 11 with this one,” you simper, blatantly pointing at Luke, “I can’t blame you. He’s gross. Come by mine tomorrow and I’ll get you privacy curtains, okay? Trust me Yvonne, you don’t think boys are all that gross if you like kissing them.”

She nods, smiling charmingly at the two of you, before brushing past Luke and winking, “See you inside!”

Your head swivels to look at Luke with a coy expression, “There’s no way she’s not an Aphrodite.”

Luke huffs as he clicks his flashlight on and off. His hands are always fidgeting, always searching for something to do. He’s more like his dad than he thinks, carrying the quieter traits of quick fingers and more obvious ones like his constant search for amusement. Talking to you consistently satiates that itch.

“Aphrodite isn’t the only god that attracts attractive people, you know.”

“Oh? Do tell, because if she’s one of you, your cabin’s gonna be extra trouble,” your mouth curves into a smile, and he thinks he likes it more when you’re trying to be mean to him like this because the back and forth between you two is a comfort Luke cherishes. The words have lost their bite over the years, and there are no more cuts and bruises besides an occasional wounded ego, but it’s still entertaining, to say the least. He can’t imagine a day without hearing the teasing lilt of your voice, always easy to prod at and always wanting to have the last word.

“My dad is the god of thieves and messengers. We’re fast, smart, charming, and also good-looking. Do the math.”

“Also apparently the ones with the biggest egos, but okay.” There it is. He shoves you and you trip over your own feet falling fast.

“Hey! Jerk.”

“Definitely a daughter of Dionysus, crazy as always, and clumsy too.” Luke’s nose crinkles at the sight of your crumpled frame.

“Your hand is like the size of my face, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

A fleeting thought in the back of your mind reasons that maybe violence is the answer, but he’s still not finished making fun of you even after he helps you up.

“And vulgar! What a shocker.”

“Ugh. You better hope your dad stops populating because if there’s any more that come here and act like you? I’m quitting.”

Luke watches you gaze at the heavens, probably looking for a fuck to give and he snickers at how easily you give in nowadays. Maybe he’s the one losing his touch—usually you’d put up more of a fight to argue.

“You wouldn’t. You love this job. Camp. S’why you’re not as fun anymore, Trouble.”

A noise of agreement leaves you as you glare at him and the stupid nickname back from when you used to wreak havoc just because you could, a direct juxtaposition to the honorary position you hold today. Finally following him up the front steps of Cabin 11, Luke opens the door and beckons you in, pushing at your hip with his knuckles.

Checking this place last has become a habit with Luke helping you out, and all the kids—Hermes’, minor gods’, and unclaimed, love it when you come to stop by before lights out. They especially loved the later bedtime, but hugs and cool stories from you were a close second.

“Everyone good and ready for bed in here? Sorry it took so long guys,” you say, visually scanning the perimeter and matching faces to bunks, seeing them all settled beneath their sheets, all except for one Luke Castellan. He’s still leaning against the doorframe, breath grazing your shoulder as he hands you a copy of his log from the other cabins he kindly relieved you from.

“What, no bedtime story this time?” He says through hooded eyes, and though he won’t admit it, he adores the sound of your voice. Luke does anything he can to get your attention to hear it more. It almost has a calming effect on him, and maybe it’s the fact that your dad can cause and cure madness, anxiety, and all alike, so something in him believes you do the same, powers or not. One look from him has you sputtering out snarky remarks; different strategies, same results—works every time.

“Castellan…” He grins at the look on your face, and tiny voices pop up from around the cabin, all asking for a bedtime story. Chris even starts a chant from his top bunk, making you want to hurl your clipboard at his head. Hypnos is calling your name at this point, and you’d do anything to crawl into your own safe haven in Cabin 12, but your heartstrings pull at the sight of the little ones pouting, hoping for you to tuck them in with a blanket of comforting words and stories of something more than what these walls meagerly provide. Camp Half-Blood only keeps them safe for so long, and not a lot of them make it out of here alive. You and Luke both know that being two of the oldest at camp, and his smug expression as he settles into his bed is confirmation that you’re about to give in.

“Fine. One quick story, and then everyone goes to sleep okay? Who wants to sit on the floor with me?”

You take your place sitting on the ground next to the foot of Luke’s bunk as he lays upside down on the twin-sized mattress, peering at you through one open eye as the younger children, mostly the unclaimed ones—drag their blankets and form a circle in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for you to start enchanting them with something to occupy their tired minds. Acting— that’s the gift your father had to give you; this time you decide to tell the story of Atalanta and the golden apples, how she ran from love and it still found her in the end, and how some stories can have good endings, despite what’s often found in Greek legend.

Multiple tired eyes droop closed as you finish the story and carry the ones who’ve fallen into Hypnos’ embrace back into their bunks, tucking them in with kisses on their foreheads and it leaves you with a warm feeling that will help you brave the chill on your walk back.

Admittedly, this next part is your favorite part on nights like these. The overflowing cabin of rowdy pranksters and babbling children is as quiet as the secret you hold close to your heart, tiptoeing back towards Luke’s space and draping his blanket over his muscular frame, exhausted from another day of trying to achieve greatness. Your hand brushes a dark curl away from his forehead, fingertips ghosting his pale skin like a kiss you’d never have the guts to give. With everything you have in you, you summon thoughts of serenity and peace, hoping whatever keeps him up at night lets him rest for even a few hours. You don’t pray often, finding yourself spiting your father instead of honoring him on most days, but in the dim light of Cabin 11, you find yourself making time to do so for a pain in your ass called Luke Castellan.

Perhaps he knows something you don’t after all, the crease in his forehead relaxing as you pull your fingertips away.

“Sweet dreams, angelface.”

Mental note: Put his ass to work tomorrow for falling asleep halfway through the story.

It’ll only give him another excuse to ask you to tell it again a few nights later. You find yourself not minding that, a sliver of a smile pulling at your face as you walk towards the door and shut the lights off, a sleeping son of Hermes illuminated by the gentle shine of the moon.

You’d never admit that, though.

—

“you steady me and stir me

all at once.”

-Tanya Wright

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[freetheworms]

@petrowriting your tags are too good to lose inside the tumblr machine

Would you like to talk about what happened to Frederick Chilton?

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: angst, so much angst, grieving, talk about loss, softness, fluff, lots of feelings, smut implications at the end, thanks

wc: 11.6k

A/N: Welp, WELP, after so long, one of my main visions is finally written. Thank you @andvys for proofreading and correcting my grammar mistakessss. Sorry, I lied last chapter, next one is when the omegaverse omegaverses a bit... or did i lie?

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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CHAPTER 25

You were restless. 

Your nails were between your lips as you paced your apartment, waiting for Eddie to message you back. You found out about the news through Steve, who messaged the entire group. Your heart plummeted to the depths of your stomach, and you didn’t know how to process the news. Tears ran down your cheeks before you could stop them, and the sadness shook all over your body. 

You messaged Eddie then, but you didn’t get any response. You waited and waited, and only a day later, he answered in the morning. 

‘I’m having the funeral now.’

Words could not be enough to express how you felt. He was there in Hawkins, alone, and you wanted to get into your car and drive those three hours to get to where he was so he wouldn’t be by himself. But you had to think clearly, not drastically. You told him to message you whenever he needed, and that he could call you at any time.

He didn’t.

You pushed your negative feelings towards Steve aside, bothering him every day to tell you if he knew anything about Eddie, or when he was going to return, but Steve was as clueless as you were. 

It had been a week since Wayne’s birthday, two since his funeral. You knew by now that Eddie liked to deal with these kinds of things alone, but you didn’t think he would leave Steve aside. Robin told you how distraught Steve was. He deeply cared for Wayne, too, and he was wrecked that he wasn’t attending his funeral. You felt sad for Steve because Wayne must have been like an uncle to him, a second family.

But Steve told you that he couldn’t be mad at Eddie for it. It wasn’t something easy, much less after everything they both went through together. He could visit Wayne’s grave later, and he was glad that the last memory he had of the old man was a red tint on his cheeks from the whiskey and a smile on his face. 

You should feel the same, but the worry for Eddie only kept growing the more you didn’t know about his whereabouts. Now, you were debating calling off from work in the next three days, needing to go find Eddie for yourself, at least ask him if he is okay, and leave. You didn’t need anything else. You just needed to know that Eddie was fine.

The week had been excruciating for you because you couldn’t focus on work. How could you? The man you have feelings for is not answering any of your texts, and he just lost his last family member. How could you be relaxed in a situation like that? Now Saturday, you hadn’t stopped thinking about Eddie a single second. Your stomach was in knots, screaming at you to do something, anything to make the nerves calm down. 

But what could you possibly do? 

Your phone started beeping, and you quickly took it out of your pocket to see Robin calling you. You gasped, answering in a hurried manner.

“Robs? Any news?” “We are coming to pick you up! Eddie is at home! We just passed by his house, and his car is there!” You sighed with relief, and you quickly rushed to grab your purse, your phone, and keys, not caring about anything else. Nothing else really mattered. You needed to make sure he was alive, and he was fine, and that he didn’t need anything else, at least for now.

“Okay! I’m heading down!” You hung up, feeling your heart thumping at your chest with desperation, and you rushed out of your house. You couldn’t even think straight or rationally; you just wanted to see Eddie. You had to see Eddie. There was this pull at your chest that was making you feel hopeless by not knowing where he was. You felt numb and empty after a week of complete radio silence.

It was an understandable situation, but he could at least tell you all that he was fine. He could tell you all when he was going to return or when he did, like now. You had passed by his house many times, and the day you didn’t, he returned. For fucks sake. 

You were out of your building, looking towards the street, your feet bouncing in place as you bit your bottom lip. The anxiety was overwhelming you, because if Eddie hadn’t talked to any of you about his comeback, it was because he definitely wanted to be alone. You wished you could let him have his privacy, but you were worried. Too worried, and Steve was too. 

You saw the BMW pulling up, rather quickly, and it stopped right in front of you with a slight screech. Robin moved her hands for you to get in, and you rushed into the backseat of the car. You felt your heart in your throat as you clung onto Robin’s headrest. 

Steve turned his head to look at you once before he started to drive. You had bags under your eyes, you looked spent, as if something had been sucked out of your body and left you limp. 

Your breathing was heavy as Steve drove, and you could hear Robin asking you if you were fine, but you kept shaking your head. You weren’t. You weren’t going to be until you knew what was going on with Eddie. The depths of your feelings were more than what you had thought, but it was not time to think about those right now. No.

You arrived at Eddie’s in record time, and Steve pulled the brake quickly, before unbuckling himself and getting out. You followed at the same speed, Robin right behind you two. You three rushed up the stairs, and you saw Steve deliberating whether to knock on the door or use the spare key in his hand. 

He decided to knock a few times, desperately. You were waiting expectantly outside, gulping as you three stood in front of the door.

“EDDIE! It’s us! We– We saw your car, we just want to make sure you’re okay!” Steve tried, and he waited for a bit, licking his lips as nervousness rushed all over his body. He cursed under his breath, looking at the key in his hand and–

The door clicked, and you held your breath in. Slowly, it opened, and Eddie stood on the other side. He looked… He looked void. Empty. A vessel made out of a human corpse. You frowned at the sight, not being able to hold back on your worry, on how your heart tugged in desperation of wanting to pull him into your arms.

Steve gulped as he stared at his friend, who had yet to look up at him. Robin grabbed your hand from behind Steve, silently telling you that she was here with you, and you couldn’t be more grateful because you felt as if your knees were about to break on you. 

“Eddie–” Steve talked, and Eddie had his hair down, wearing a white buttoned-up long-sleeved formal shirt and black dress pants. He never changed out of the funeral clothes. The mourning ones. It’s been two days. Your jaw clenched as you tried to look for his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at any of you.

“I’m alive.” He slowly stepped back, turning around to give his back to the three of you. You wanted to rush forward and hug him, but you knew that Eddie was vulnerable, very susceptible. You didn’t want to overstep the boundaries he probably had right now but– but fuck.

Steve was the first to slowly step in, and his heart clenched when he saw boxes inside Eddie’s home, one in particular with the word ‘Mugs’ on it. He knew that was Wayne’s collection, and Eddie had also done the moving of his stuff by himself. He wanted to curse at his best friend, but it wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the right moment.

You followed Steve, looking around with tears filling your eyes. You couldn’t help it. How could you when you knew the man you care for deeply might be suffering in silence? Your eyes fell back on Eddie’s back, seeing his hair cascading all over the white shirt. Steve licked his lips as he measured his words.

“We wanted… We wanted to make sure you were okay– We are here if you need us. You need to know that we are here.” He tried, trying to make Eddie budge, yet the man didn’t turn around. You felt your heart clench in pain as you looked at Steve, begging him to keep trying. Steve winced, gulping before he continued. “Eddie, please–”

“I want to do this alone. I will be fine in a few days. You guys don’t need to worry about me.” His voice was cold, emotionless. Your bottom lip trembled as you softly called out to him.

“Eddie…” You saw his body tensing slightly at your voice. You took a step forward, not caring for the boundaries anymore, but a hand over your chest stopped you. Steve was looking at you in pain, and you knew that he actually didn’t want to stop you, but he knew Eddie better than you did in this stuff. He knew how to handle Eddie when he became like this. 

Your foot slowly retreated, painfully so. You didn’t want to go. You wanted to run and hug him and take care of him. You wanted to hold him tight and comfort him. But you couldn’t do it if he didn’t open up to you, and you couldn’t make him do so. Steve also looked pained, but Robin put a hand on his shoulder for support, giving him a small comforting smile.

The brown haired man sighed, shaking his head a bit with a sigh. He admitted defeat as he looked down at the floor.

“At least try to message us back. Let us know you are alright. We are here if you need anything at all, Eddie.” With that, Steve turned around and looked at you with a frown. His words were not there, but it was enough for you to understand. ‘We can’t do more than this.’

It pained you. Your eyes filled with silent tears as you looked at Eddie, who didn’t turn around for a single second. You gulped and nodded, turning back around to finally leave with Steve and Robin. You felt defeated as you three walked to the door, and you should be happy with knowing he was here, alive, and breathing, but it wasn’t enough. You weren’t satisfied, you weren't relieved. You knew Steve felt the exact same, but the three of you couldn’t break the wall Eddie had built so easily. 

You were about to cross the front door, right after Robin, only to be stopped by a sudden pull.

Your eyes widened when you felt a rough hand grab onto your left one, tightly. You slowly turned around to see Eddie, getting closer to you as he pulled you towards him, his other hand joining his hold on you, as if to make sure you weren't going to slip away. Steve and Robin turned around, stunned, eyes wide as they looked at the interaction. 

“Peach…” It was silent, rough, and his eyebrows were meeting in the middle. Your heartstrings tightened at the sight, and Eddie’s body flushed against your side, like a puppy looking for comfort. 

You turned to look at Steve and Robin, and Steve’s eyes went back and forth between you and Eddie. You didn’t know what was going on through his mind, but Eddie was showing that he wanted you to stay. Only you.

“I’m… I’m staying here with him. I’ll keep you guys updated, okay?” You said softly, the hands around your left one tightening, silently begging you to hurry and come inside. Steve’s eyes drifted towards Eddie, who was looking at the top of your head, magnetized to you, in need of you. Steve’s jaw clenched, his words soft as he spoke to you.

“Okay. Take care of him, alright?” 

You were surprised by his words, not really expecting him to give you such a big green light after how he had been with you the past weeks. Robin smiled at you, giving you a nod.

“Tell me if you need anything from your apartment.” You gave her a nod, and she waved at you, walking down the stairs with Steve right behind her. The man turned around one last time at the bottom of the stairs, seeing you urging Eddie inside with soft words. The door closed, and Steve took a deep breath before going back to the car.

Inside the house, your instincts kicked in, your right hand grabbing onto his forearm to try to make him look at you. His eyes found yours, and you saw the ticking bomb that resided in them. You had to act fast. You needed to make it comfortable for him so he could rest, or better yet, let it all out.

“Eds, let’s go to your room, get you out of those clothes, and get into bed, okay?” You softly spoke, which Eddie nodded slowly. He never let go of your hand as you guided him upstairs. Once you two reached his room, you made him sit on the bed, kissing his hands so he could let go of yours. He reluctantly did so, and you moved towards the dresser to get some sweatpants out for him to wear. 

You walked towards him and started unbuttoning his shirt, then his cuffs, so you could pull it off his body. Fuck, was he thinner? Has he eaten in the past week? Worry ran over your body, but you kept it down with a gulp as you helped him remove his shoes and pants. It was not the time for any questions. As he put on the sweatpants, you took the opportunity to get yourself comfortable. You took off your own pants and shirt, and Eddie was not even looking at you as you did. You put on a shirt of his and grabbed his hands to guide him to the side of the bed, opening the blanket for him.

“Come on…” He moved at your command, slowly, but he got into the bed as his eyes searched for you. You pulled the blanket over him and rushed around the bed to get in on the other side.

Your heart was aching, and your instincts, your feelings, were talking for you. You moved a bit further up into the pillow, opening your arm as you reached for him with the other, “Come here…”

He slowly moved closer to you, and he almost looked as if he were in a state of shock. You realized that maybe he was. He definitely was. His head came in contact with your chest, and your arms wrapped around him, tightly. You wanted to sob, finally having him back in your arms, and you wished he wasn’t feeling like this. You wished that the circumstances were different because you didn’t want him to be in pain. You didn’t want him to hurt.

“Wayne.” He said as your hand ran over his hair, starting to gently rub as your chin pressed at the top of his head. Tears filled your eyes as you gave him a short nod.

“Yeah… Let it out, Eddie…” 

And his body started shaking, his arms wrapping around you like a vice, holding onto you for dear life. You clenched your eyes as you heard his first sob. Then another. Then loud cries of pain, of anguish, of loss. His nails were digging into your back, but you didn’t even feel them. You couldn’t care less. He needed this. He needed you. 

You have never thought you would hear him cry like this. Mouth open as he let out his sobs, his wails, his whimpers. You felt the front of your shirt dampen more and more each second that passed, and all you could do was hold him. You rocked him gently, trying to soothe him, but you never shushed him. You never tried to calm him down when all he needed was to cry.

Your throat was closed up as you tried to hold your own sobs in, but your tears fell freely. He cried and cried for what seemed like hours. Sob, through sob, and when you thought he had fallen asleep or calmed down, they started back up again. You held him through it, and your movements never stopped. Your hand running over his hair, the slight rocking of your body, your legs tangling with his, so he would feel your warmth all over his body.

You never once separated yourself from him.

Only when he fell asleep, you managed to slip away so you could wash your face and relieve yourself in the toilet. You took deep breaths as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, weighing your options. You couldn’t leave Eddie alone. Your body could not physically do it, even if your mind told you that you had to at some point. 

You had to make sure he ate, you had to make sure that he took care of himself, and you had to help him with everything he brought back from Hawkins. It wasn’t going to be easy, mentally, physically, and emotionally, and you knew that he would need support. You brushed your teeth before heading back into the bedroom, seeing Eddie clutching onto the blanket, his entire body in a ball position, all turned into itself.

Your heart ached, and you walked towards your phone to text Robin. You messaged her that everything was alright, but Eddie needed support. You told her to bring you some clothes for the day and for work, and necessities the next day, so you could stay at Eddie’s for as much as he needed. 

You went back into the bed, trying not to wake him up, but as soon as you got in, his body sought yours. His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into his chest, and you sighed with delight, knowing that he was alright and in your arms. Your eyes closed instantly, and you let the darkness take you away, falling asleep to Eddie’s soft breaths.

The next day, you awoke first at 9 AM, untangling yourself from him so you could put on a pair of his shorts before heading downstairs. You looked around, seeing all the boxes, the suitcases, and you knew this was going to be a journey. This was going to be something tough, and you wondered if you could even do this by yourself. 

You decided to cook something and try to make Eddie eat before even tackling any conversation. You prepared some scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, and juice, taking your time to do so. You left your plate and your coffee on the kitchen’s island counter, and you bit your lip as you put all of that on a tray, praying to whatever god was up there not to let you fall down the stairs.

The tray clanked a bit as you walked slowly up the stairs, focusing on not letting anything drop or fall. You sighed with relief once you got to the top, moving towards the bedroom to see Eddie sitting up on his bed. His hair was disheveled from sleep. You two went to sleep rather early, and now it was 10:30 AM. 

“Hey, I made you some breakfast…” You softly spoke as you walked towards the bed, sat down next to him, and placed the tray of food on the bed. He looked at it, his eyes bloodshot and puffy, the scruff on his chin longer and unkept. His voice was rough and raspy, and you saw him gulp at the sight of food.

“Not really hungry, Peach…” 

“You gotta eat.” Eddie shot a glare your way, but you kept your stance, pointing at the food. “I made this for you.”

“So because you made it for me, I gotta eat it?” 

“Yes.” 

He fell silent for a second, but then he moved, placing the tray on his lap. He frowned for a second and then looked back up at you.

“Where’s yours?” He asked, and you pointed down.

“Downstairs, didn’t fit in the tray–” He crossed his arms over his chest and laid back on the headboard of his bed. Your mouth fell open, and you rolled your eyes at him. “Seriously? You aren’t going to eat?”

“If you bring your breakfast up here and eat with me, yes.” You couldn’t help but feel a little tug on your lips going upwards, finding this rather endearing than childish. 

“God, such a kid.” You got up from the bed and went back downstairs to get another tray and do another silent prayer before returning to the bedroom. Once you returned, he was still in the same position as before.

“So slow.” You shot a glare his way as you walked to the bed, sitting down next to him with the tray on your lap.

“Do you know how much balancing I have to do walking up the stairs with this?” He gave a chuckle. Just one. It was enough to make your hopes rise again, a small weight being lifted off your shoulders. It was a small win, but a win nonetheless. 

“Skill issue.” Was his short answer, and you saw how he started eating his food. He started slow, only to then start devouring it all. You held in a sigh of relief when you saw him finally ingesting something in his system, not really knowing when was the last time he did so. 

You ate in silence, inspecting his movements, inspecting the way he ate. You drank your coffee, and once it was all finished, you turned to look at Eddie, who was rubbing his eyes. Your heart clenched as you pushed the trays aside, getting up from the bed, rounding it to get to Eddie. Your hands reached for his, thumbs rubbing against the top of his palms.

“Come on, you want a bath or a shower?” He didn’t answer, so you gave him a small tug, making him groan.

“I don’t want to shower.”

“Well, you’re stinky. So a bath it is.” You let go of his hands to go to the bathroom to get the bath ready. You made it not too hot like you would have liked it, knowing Eddie takes colder showers. You waited for the bath to fill up, hearing Eddie’s steps coming towards the bathroom. You turned to look at him, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit broken by looking at him in this state. You wanted to fix it, to make it better, and you were hoping that you were.

You stood up as the sound of the water splashing in the tub filled the room, the bit of steam making it warm up. The shampoo and conditioner were all there for him to use, but he didn’t make a move to take his pants off. You tilted your head, knowing he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t doing so. But you knew what he needed. 

Your hands came to rip the shirt off your body, as well as taking your pants off. His eyes moved to find yours, and he shook his head slowly, grabbing your hand to stop you from taking your underwear off as well.

“It’s cold for you.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle a bit of cold.” You were happy he remembered how you liked the temperature of your water, but for him, you would dip yourself in the Arctic Ocean. He needed you right now. You weren’t going to let temperatures or commodities get in between you and him. 

You two got in the bath together, and you made sure not to wet your hair, not wanting to wash it just yet, but you helped Eddie wash his. As you rubbed the shampoo into his hair, you could hear sniffles coming from him, and you let him cry. You heard him take deep breaths as if to try to calm himself down a couple of times, but the sniffles came back. When you faced him to wash his face, tears were streaming down his cheeks, breaking your heart. He looked at you almost helplessly, and you just wanted to wrap your arms around him and never let go. Not even for a second.

But the water turned colder and colder, and you had to. You got out first, wrapping a towel around your body. He got out and wrapped one as well around his waist, before grabbing another one for his hair. You snatched it from his hands, making him raise an eyebrow your way.

You didn’t say a word as you walked out of the bathroom and then into the bedroom. You sat down on the edge of the bed, and you nodded towards the floor. Eddie immediately understood and sat down at your feet. You dried his hair with the towel, rubbing your hands all over and shaking it, making a few chuckles escape him as well as some winces. 

The day went on, and you prepared lunch for the two of you. Some quick pasta, but you told Eddie that you two had to eat something healthy at night, so you would have to go out and get groceries. 

“Please, don’t…” He winced at his own words, at his own plea. He didn’t want you to leave, but maybe he felt selfish by requesting this from you. You bit your lip and nodded, grabbing his hand over the counter.

“Okay, Robin is coming over just to bring me some clothes and things. I’ll tell her to go to the market to get me some food. I’m staying here until you kick me out, Munson.” You tried saying in a lighthearted manner, but his grip on your hand tightened, and then, his lips found your temple. Your heart burst into flames in your chest, and you hummed in appreciation.

“Thank you…” 

When Robin came by a few hours later, she tried asking a few things, but mostly if there was anything else she could do, as well as Steve. The others have been wanting to reach out to Eddie as well, but it seemed as if everyone knew that all he needed was time. You thanked Robin, closing the door and walking to the couch with her bag of clothes. 

He had a photo album on his lap as ‘The Office’ played in the background. He looked up at you when he heard the zip of the bag, and you scrunched up your nose at the clothes your best friend picked up for you. 

“God damnit, Robin.” He tilted his head, trying to look over to see what the problem was.

“What is it?”

“Let’s say that she grabbed the first things she saw out of my work clothes drawer and stashed them inside this bag.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I will have to get some clothes before going to work tomorrow–” 

And you heard his breath hitch. Your eyes found his, and he looked lost, desperate, as if he wanted to say something. Your heart clenched tightly in your chest, the pit of your stomach just becoming hollow. You sighed, getting your phone out of your back pocket, texting your boss. Eddie snapped out of his shock, so it seemed, and he stuttered as he spoke to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a sec.” You asked as you waited for your boss to answer to you. Eddie was really your demise, wasn’t he? Your phone dinged, and you nodded, sitting down next to him. “Okay, I’m not going to work this week.”

His eyes widened, shaking his head at you.

“You have the training, your boss is going on leave soon–”

“And I am an impeccable worker who has no job left undone. I told her I needed to take care of a personal matter that might take a while, regarding a loss.” You brushed a stray hair that fell on the side of his face, putting it behind his ear. “It’s fine.”

You gave him an encouraging smile, and he was just looking at you as if you weren’t even there. As if you were a figment of his imagination. You opened your mouth to talk again, but both his hands came up to cradle your cheeks, and then his lips came to rest on top of yours, tenderly and very softly.

Your body got goosebumps all over, electricity running through your entire spine that made everything feel more intense than before. It was the first kiss he gave you after he came back from Hawkins, the first kiss after his Uncle’s birthday party. The world was silent around you two, and when he pulled away, his lips still hovering over yours, you knew you couldn’t be free of Eddie. Not anymore.

“Thank you… Thank you so much, Peach…”

Three days passed, and Eddie started to slowly come back to himself. 

You helped him clean the house, fix the schedule for his shop, and even went to get groceries with him. You wondered what Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle thought of you staying in his house, or maybe they didn’t even know you were there. 

Steve had been messaging you all this time, asking you to keep him updated on Eddie’s health and how he was acting. It broke your heart knowing Steve wanted to be there for his best friend as well, but Eddie was making no moves on inviting more people over or getting out of the house to do so. 

But you were completely thrown back when he stood next to you as he dried the glasses you finished cleaning in the sink.

“I’ll invite Steve over today. I want him to help me sort out… the boxes.” You were almost wide-eyed in surprise when you heard that. The boxes were the one thing you dreaded the most, knowing how hard that would be for Eddie, but now, your chest filled with warmth, knowing he wanted to do it with his best friend. 

You nodded in agreement, kissing his bicep as he let out a sigh of what seemed like relief. You turned off the water, drying your hands on a kitchen cloth.

“You want me out for that?” You asked, and his head whipped quickly your way, a frown forming in his eyebrows. He looked almost comical, but you held the giggle back.

“No. You are not allowed to leave.” You scoffed, shaking your head at him.

“I should call the police, I’m being held hostage.” You joked, and he dropped the cloth with a slam on the counter, and his arms came to wrap tightly around your waist, making you giggle in surprise as he raised you, lifting you in the air, smiling up at you. Your feet kicked as he walked towards the living room. “Okay, put me down!”

“Nope, I want you to fully give your vocal consent, you're staying out of your own free will.” You giggled as his arms were still tightly wrapped around you, and you saw his smile as you tried to wiggle yourself free from his grasp. 

“Fine, fine! I’m staying out of my own free will! I’m not being held hostage!” He gave a huff of approval before putting you down on the ground again. You were pouting at him, and he shook his head, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Don’t pout at me.” His phone gave a small ding, and he pulled it out, not hiding the screen from you, which only made you feel proud. You saw it was Steve, responding to Eddie’s text. “He is free today.”

You gave him a nod, and you saw how he hesitated on typing the message out. His thumb was over the letters, and your hands squeezed his waist in encouragement. You heard him take a sharp intake of breath before his thumb started moving. ‘Will you come over to help me out with Wayne’s boxes?’

You knew that simple text was a lot for Eddie. You could hear his breathing becoming shaky, and you waited right there with him for Steve’s response. His eyes were not moving away from his phone screen, while yours were not moving away from him. Once Steve agreed to come over, you saw Eddie sigh in relief, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“So, he’s coming?” Eddie looked at you, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he opened his mouth, but you quickly covered it with your hand, glaring at him. “Can you not make it dirty?”

“I ws–fnna–say, he isff.” He mumbled into your palm, and you nodded, taking it away from him. “But who knows, maybe he was busy before and that’s why he took some time to answer–”

You left his side, turning instantly, acting as if you were fed up with his commentary, but deep down, you were grateful his comedic side was coming back up. He was slowly returning to himself, but you were still taking care of his actions. He sometimes zoned out or took a while in the shower, more than he was accustomed to. But the jokes started back up this morning, when he woke up and told you that you farted in your sleep.

He said it with a laugh, so you don’t really know if it was the truth or not, and even in your embarrassment, you were happy to see that cheeky smile on him again. 

Now, another kind of situation was coming up, which was the fact that Eddie did not want you to leave despite Steve coming over. You weren’t sure how that conversation was going to turn out, but you still hoped that Steve being here would help Eddie as well. Your thoughts were cut off when two strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you close to a chest, tightly.

“I said you were not allowed to leave.” He said, mimicking a growl. You giggled, shaking your head, rolling your eyes at his attitude.

“Definitely held hostage.”

“Fine, guilty as fucking charged, Peach.” And then he bit your neck, gently, but it was enough to send a shiver all over your body, goosebumps rising on your skin, hair standing on your arms. Your belly flipped over, and you couldn’t help but feel so blissful despite the situation. 

“What are you? A vampire?” 

“Vleh, vleh, vleh.” You snorted before starting to laugh hysterically. He loved Hotel Transylvania from the moment you two watched it together by chance. You just selected something random while having breakfast together one time, and he got hooked. He laughed, and he told you to never tell anyone that he liked a cartoon movie that much.

A little secret, one of the many, that you two shared together. 

An hour later, the doorbell rang. Your heart got out of your throat a bit as you knew this was going to be awkward for the two of them. You wondered if you really should be here or not. Eddie asked you not to, but you couldn’t help but believe that you weren’t supposed to. You were preparing some snacks, knowing that fixing up and arranging what’s inside the boxes would take a while. Doing these kinds of things always took someone down memory lane.

Eddie walked down the stairs, drying his wet curls with a small towel, grunting on each step. You frowned, turning your head, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What’s with the grunting?”

“He has a spare key! Why do I have to open the door?” You shook your head and turned your head to keep cutting the carrots as Eddie opened the door, revealing Steve Harrington on the other side, looking like always, but you knew he wasn’t in an extremely cheery mood. 

“I heard you, Munson. Don't know if you remember, but last time I barged in, I caught you and someone else in a little predicament.” Steve rolled his eyes, and you winced in shame. You could see how he stood there for a second, his hand moving on his side, as if he were in pain. Your heart ached, knowing Steve probably wanted to hug Eddie, to give and seek comfort. Eddie stepped out of the way, walking back inside to let Steve in.

Your eyes locked with his as he finally spotted you in the kitchen. You noticed the tension, not knowing how to act with one another. You weren’t Eddie’s girlfriend, and Steve didn’t seem to enjoy the idea of that when he found out about you two together, to the point of making Eddie doubt continuing this friends-with-benefits situation. 

He walked over to you and patted you on the shoulder, surprising you slightly.

“You alright?” He called your name, and you nodded a bit, handing him a carrot, which he took before dipping it into the cream cheese and taking a bite.

“Yeah, you?” You noticed how he didn’t respond to you for a few seconds, as if debating his answer. He then gave you a slow nod as his eyes followed Eddie heading to the boxes. He looked at you and then gave a little jerk of his head in Eddie’s direction. He was asking you about his best friend. You gave a thumbs up, followed by a small shrug. He was okay, but that can be very volatile.

Steve nodded and walked towards his best friend, looking down at the first box. You stood in the kitchen, looking over at them as they talked, starting to pull stuff out of it. It was Wayne’s cutlery, which wasn’t much, and not really that fancy, but they were used with love and care. Steve grabbed onto the penguin wine jar, lifting it up.

“I will never understand this purchase.” Eddie scrunched up his nose, looking at it as Steve showed it off. 

“Me neither… But man, did we use it.” You heard Eddie say, and Steve smiled a bit, putting it on the coffee table. You took a bite out of a chip, and the crunch made Eddie snap his head your way. He made a grabby hand at you, and you rolled your eyes, grabbing the bowl and walking towards them. 

He grabbed a handful and shoved the chips in his mouth, and you smacked him over the head. Steve snorted at the action, turning his head to hide his laughter at Eddie’s shocked face, slowly turning to look at you.

“Gentle, jesus fucking christ.” You shook your head, putting the bowl on the coffee table as well, so they could keep munching. You looked down into the box, spotting something shiny. You reached down, getting hold of it, pulling it out, and– Eddie and Steve started cracking up while you scrunched your nose at it. 

In your hand was a paper weight in the form of a tit. Nipple and all. You turned to Eddie and you showed it to him, making him cover his eyes as he laughed, as if remembering stuff when seeing it after so long.

“I can’t believe he held onto that shit.” Eddie coughed out, and Steve shook his head, wiping a tear that threatened to fall down.

“I can’t believe it either.” You were still looking at the fake breast in your hand, which was also quite heavy. Eddie calmed down, the smile still on his lips. He gently got hold of it and inspected it as he turned it over a few times.

“I gifted this to him with my first pay. I thought it was just going to be left as a joke… but he kept it.” Your frown fell immediately as he looked at the object in his hand. Steve also stopped laughing, yet his smile didn’t leave his lips. He returned to pulling things out of the box, and you opted to sit down on the couch, letting the men do it, feeling like you were inserting yourself in a moment that belonged to them only.

Items and some little pieces of furniture started coming out of the boxes, one by one, each with a small story from Eddie’s part, and sometimes, Steve would join in. Some of them didn’t have anything to tell, but others were kept in their hands for minutes as they laughed and talked, inspecting the item over and over again.

You then saw the most dreaded box being opened. The ‘Mugs’ one. For some reason, you felt like this was the one box you shouldn’t be present for. You slowly got up, and you were unnoticed as you walked up the stairs slowly, leaving the two men alone. You sat at the very top, listening to the stories Eddie told with each cup he pulled out, finding new information and new memories you didn’t know about.

Steve laughed at a few, telling Eddie how they always looked silly to him, and Eddie couldn’t agree more with him. But then, there was silence. You blinked a few times, not hearing anything at all, until finally– sniffles. Harsh breaths.

You hunched down a bit, trying not to make a sound to peek from the top of the stairs, and there you saw Steve, holding Eddie tightly against him. You pressed your hand to your chest as your eyes filled with tears. Eddie held onto Steve, his face buried in his shoulder as he cried. Steve wasn’t far behind, hearing a few of his small sobs and sniffles.

“I miss him.” Eddie confessed, as if no one really knew that. Steve nodded, and his arms tightened around his best friend.

“Yeah, I know. I know, Eddie. Me too.” Steve’s voice was broken, and you felt your own tears sliding down your cheeks as you listened to them from afar.

“I should have let you come to the funeral, I shouldn’t have–”

“You couldn’t. It’s okay, I know. You were in shock, it’s alright.” You took a deep breath in, deciding to leave them alone. You walked towards the bathroom to wash your face. You took deep breaths in as you held onto the sink, trying to center yourself. You were happy Eddie could be with his best friend, that he finally let himself be vulnerable in front of someone else. He probably needed Steve, he just didn’t realize how much.

You waited for a few more minutes, deciding to go to the bedroom to change the sheets for new ones. Then you scrolled on your phone for a while, texting Robin about Steve being there at Eddie’s. She replied she knew. She asked if there was any news or if you had talked with Eddie, but it was not the time. You weren’t going to bombard him with the ‘What are we?’ question. He needed you, and that was it, whatever that meant.

You heard a loud thump downstairs, making you sit straight up on the bed, followed by Steve’s insane laughter. You got up from the bed, rushing down the stairs only to see Eddie face down on the floor, his legs over a box he tripped over. You immediately cracked up at the sight, and you heard a grunt of pain coming from him, his hands slowly moving to press against the floor to pull himself up and glare at the both of you.

“You assholes, can’t you help me instead of laughing at me?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you. His eyes were red from crying, but you weren’t going to point it out, nor Eddie’s red nose, be it from the fall or the crying. You smiled cheekily at Steve, shaking your head, both of you speaking at the same time.

“Nah.” 

“Wow, I thought you were going to at least be better than him, Peach.” He groaned as he got up, wincing as he rubbed his right elbow. You giggled as you walked towards him, getting hold of the elbow yourself as he pouted.

“Aw, did you do a boo boo?” Eddie only glared at you, but you didn’t miss the hint of a smile on his lips as he spoke.

“I’m gonna cause one to you as well if you don’t stop making fun of poor ol’ me.” You mocked him, still rubbing onto his elbow tenderly, something that Steve didn’t miss.

“If you don’t stop making fun of poor ol’ me, blah, blah, blah.” Your voice was nasal, and a finger of his came to poke your side, making you flinch away with a giggle. Steve just stood there, looking and inspecting every movement, but you didn’t care.

“Let’s go buy those shelves for the mugs, we need somewhere to put them.” Steve said, and Eddie turned his head, nodding. Your head turned towards the kitchen counter, seeing all the collected mugs there. 

The Garfield one was the one that stuck out the most.

Saturday.

And everyone was at Eddie’s. Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Robin, Argyle, and Eden. Finally, Eddie agreed to see the rest of the group, letting them come over to his house for drinks. The mugs were now on shelves at the top of Eddie’s TV, and putting them up was actually a mess, and it got Steve to bandage his index finger because he missed a nail with the hammer. 

But now they were up there for everyone to see. Nancy had a private talk with Eddie when she arrived, and immediately the two of them went up to his room. When she came back down, her eyes were reddened, as well as Eddie's. Not as bad as the past few days, but it was a relief to see him back to himself, and this time, you could say, entirely.

“He seems fine.” Robin said with a smile, and you nodded, looking at Eddie talking to Argyle, who was going on about opening his own pizza place down in the city. You smiled fondly, seeing his own on his lips. Everyone came over not to talk about what happened to him, not really dismissing it either, but rather be there to bring a smile to Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, it was a rough week… He really didn’t want to be alone.” Robin nodded, putting an arm around your shoulder, her voice lowering as she swirled the whiskey and coke glass she had in her hand.

“He didn’t want YOU to leave… cause he let Steve go easily that day…” She took a sip of her drink as you looked down at your beer bottle. “You still think there’s no chance? At this point, I think you’re joking.”

“It wasn’t the appropriate time to have that conversation, Robs.” You pointed out and she nodded, murmuring an ‘I know, I know’. 

“Nancy suspects it, you know.” She confessed, and your eyes widened, looking at her. “Eddie sent a picture to her yesterday, and she spotted your jacket in the hanger. I tried telling her it might be the jacket from someone else, that yours isn’t one of a kind–”

“Fuck, but Robs, it is. She knows it.” The blue denim jacket with the Dior brand on the back. It was a gift from Liana, made specifically for you, for helping her with one of the contracts. It was done with embroidery, something you really like on clothes. Your eyes turned to look at Nancy, who was talking with Jonathan and Eden, smiling as they blabbered. Shit.

“I didn’t know if she would remember or not. She is giving Eddie the benefit of the doubt…” You felt guilt wash over you as you closed your eyes, sighing, taking a sip of your beer. “She is not going to be mad, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“How do you know?” You turned your head to look at her, and she shrugged, smiling at you.

“Cause she looked happy and excited when she saw it.” You blinked a few times, frowning as your eyes turned to look at Steve, who was preparing himself a drink at the kitchen counter in the corner. Another close friend of Eddie was happy that if he were dating someone, that would be you… So why not Steve?

“Well… Bet she will be mad at Eddie for not telling her, though.” Robin thought for a second and then nodded once.

“Yeah, that might happen.” Eddie’s eyes locked with yours after Argyle walked towards Steve to steal his drink, and then you saw him look at Robin, a frown forming on his eyebrows. You tilted your head in question as he walked towards you both, taking a sip of the beer in his hand.

“And what are you two ladies talking about?” He asked, and you opened your mouth to say something, but Robin interrupted immediately.

“About having some balls for once and doing what you feel… shit like that.” Your eyes widened as your head snapped to look at her as if she were crazy. Eddie’s eyes fell on Robin’s arm over your shoulders, and then looked down at you.

“Having balls? To do what?” Your mouth opened and closed for a few seconds, and then you felt Robin retract herself from you, humming as she walked over to Nancy.

“I have no idea, I guess about Argyle.” Eddie looked at you for one more second before giving a slow nod. His free hand came to scratch the back of his neck as he took a deep breath in.

“Um… You’re staying tonight again, right?” He asked, almost shyly, as if you would say no to him. You squinted a bit at him, acting as if you were annoyed.

“Wasn’t this a hostage situation?” He glared at you for a second before turning his head, looking around. You frowned, moving your head to see what he was looking at, only for him to turn back quickly and peck your lips, almost painfully, thanks to the force of it. You reeled back, putting your hand over your mouth. “What are you doing!?” 

“They weren’t looking, Peach. But yes, you’re staying.” Your heart skipped a beat as he looked at you in a way you didn’t quite know how to describe. Your body was lit on fire, the need to hold him rushing back into your veins like a bull stampede, and you blamed the small bit of alcohol for it. The half beer you drank. 

You two didn’t touch each other that way all week. It was just a lot of holding one another close, cuddling to sleep, watching TV, kissing every now and then, but never getting to the next level of it. It didn’t feel right to do so, and there was no need.

But tonight that need came back.

And you felt it on him, too. You felt it in the room, even with all your friends in it. There was this feeling, this intuition that something was happening tonight for the two of you, and your body was already shaking with anticipation. You wanted everyone in the room gone, immediately, but you knew you couldn’t do that. 

So you two went back to the rest of the people as if nothing had just happened, acting as if you arrived at his house before everyone else did. Your eyes kept clashing with his, the tension only rising the more time passed. You tried paying attention to Jonathan, talking to you about his new cocktails in the bar, you tried paying attention to Eden talking about how she is about to graduate in Computer Engineering, but you kept being drawn back to him, like a magnet.

Two hours later, the people started to slowly leave the house, the last ones being Steve, Robin, and Nancy. How were you going to lie to Nancy? What was your excuse for staying? Should you act like you were leaving? Should you say you were gonna go to the toilet before heading out?

“You’re staying to help Eddie clean, right?” Her voice interrupted, and her eyes were on you, a smile on her lips. She knew. She wasn’t doubting. She wasn’t suspecting it. 

“Y-Yeah, I think so…” You responded as Eddie put an arm around your shoulders, showing off the amount of cups and snacks on the tables and counters with his free hand, as if presenting a masterpiece. You groaned at the display, whining as you pouted. “You all are a fucking mess, it’s literally just eight people. How can eight people do this!?”

“We’re animals, sweetheart.” You heard Nancy’s giggle, making you turn your head to see her looking at Eddie for a few seconds before grabbing Robin’s hand. Steve glanced at the both of you, but mostly, his eyes were on Eddie. You turned to look at him, only to find him staring down at you, making your stomach knot into itself.

“Well, off we go. I’m tired as fuck, and my finger is hurting again.” Steve snapped you out of your trance, making you look at him. You nodded while he gave a wave before walking out. Robin winked your way, and Nancy was still smiling as the door closed behind her.

And now, it was just you and Eddie. 

You felt your heart about to kill you from how fast it was beating. It felt as if a bomb was ticking uncontrollably now, close to detonation. You felt his arm leave your shoulders, making you look up at him. He was smiling innocently, pulling his sleeves up towards his elbows.

“Well, time to start cleaning.” Your mouth fell open, and you huffed, shaking your head. You didn’t want to clean. Not tonight. You walked towards the kitchen island counter and hopped on, crossing your arms and legs while frowning at him. He was still smiling, mimicking your arms, crossing them over his chest.

“I don’t want to clean.”

“Oh, and what does little Peach want to do, hm?” He was teasing you, testing you, and you could feel the tension slowly build up in the room, the more he stared at you. 

“Sleep.” You absolutely did not want to sleep, but even if you did feel like tonight you two might do something more than just mere touches and kisses, you didn’t want to push Eddie into it. His smile faltered slightly, and he let out a sigh, shaking his head and walking over to the other counter to start throwing the cans and bottles into the trash.

“Yeah, I guess cleaning can wait till tomorrow.” His voice was slow, making you uncross your arms from your chest as well as your legs, frowning as you stared at his back. “It was nice seeing everyone today.”

Your heart warmed up at his words, and you nodded, not caring that he couldn’t see you right now.

“It was… Was Nance… mad that she couldn’t visit you before?” You were testing him to see if he would tell you what had happened with Nancy in his room. Maybe she did confront him about you two, but by his shrug, you assumed she didn’t.

“Oh, not exactly… More like, disappointed… Told me I was an idiot for thinking I was alone in this and all…”

“But you aren’t alone. You know that.” And he went silent for a second, his movements stopping, and you felt a chill running down your spine, as if it knew that something was changing in the air right now.

“Yeah… I’m not alone anymore… Especially not with you… Right, Peach?”

He slowly turned to face you, and your breath was knocked out of your lungs as your face started heating up. He looked so serious, yet it didn’t look threatening or anything like that. It was just a serious face for a serious conversation. Your eyes averted, not being able to contain the nerves that slowly invaded you, looking at your lap.

“I… Define ‘Especially not with you’.” You wanted to know if what he meant was more than physical. If what he meant was more than just two bodies finding pleasure with one another. If what he meant was more than just getting together to satisfy each other, and that was it. 

He gulped, and you saw him take a deep breath in, making you look up at him again. He was still looking at you, his eyes never leaving your face. His hand came to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous tick you know he had by now. He was nervous. Eddie was nervous.

“I think it’s time for the two of us to have that talk.” Your world stopped. Oh, fuck. Your breathing quickened a bit, and your chest felt heavy as you felt sweat on your fingertips. Your nerves were causing havoc inside of you, and you were becoming a wreck by the second. The only way for you to maneuver over this topic was comedy.

“You’re making it sound like… It’s the end of the world.” Probably not the best joke. Not one that should be done in a moment like this, but you felt like the entire world was watching you two right now, waiting for the next move. Eddie looked at you, shaking his head, taking a deep breath in before he began talking.

“Peach… What we do it’s not something normal friends with benefits do.” Your heart was already plummeting to the floor. Have you read the signs wrong? Have you gotten hopeful for nothing? 

“I– Well, I do know that…” Your eyes were locked with his, and time stood still for a few seconds before he took a step towards you, making the hairs on your arms stand up.

“You know this is not just… that then. Right?” 

The air got knocked out of your lungs. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Were you understanding wrong? You couldn’t disguise the desperation that lingered in your voice when you talked, feeling a lump starting to form in your throat, and you felt so stupid for becoming emotional, but– Fuck, it’s been months.

“I– What is it, then?” Eddie got taken aback by your words, his eyes showing nervousness as he took more steps your way, closing the distance, slowly.

“Peach, I think you know…” His hands finally came to touch your knees, looking at them for a few seconds as he deliberated his next words. “I— I need to know if we’re on the same page right here because–”

His jaw clenched, and you felt like you were soaring into the sky, not realizing you weren’t answering him, not even moving towards him. He was right there for you, for the taking. He was here, and he was confessing himself to you. You weren’t wrong. Robin was right. This was happening. He was happening. Due to your lack of response, he kept talking,

“I have to leave if you aren’t, Peach. I need to walk out of it before I–” And your eyes widened, your hands finding his in a rushed manner, and your legs opened to push him close to you, for him to get in between as you shook your head desperately. No. No. No. He can’t walk away from you. No.

“No– No… I’m–” Fuck, why are you so choked up? Why can’t you talk properly? Why? He just stood there, his head tilting in question. You wondered if his heart was about to explode in the same way yours was about to.

“You?” You closed your eyes as you gulped down the lump as best as you could.

“I– Fuck, you should know how I feel about you now, I– By the way I act, or– What I do…” You cringed at your words, shit. This wasn’t romantic at all. This wasn’t the amazing confession you had rehearsed in your mind a thousand times, and now that it’s here, you were acting poorly.

He wasn’t answering, so you looked up at him, his serious face slowly turning into a cheeky smile, his dimples showing off your way. You frowned slightly, wondering why he was smiling like that, even if it made your breath stutter.

“I know. I can read people like the back of my hand, remember? I just wanted you to say it out loud. Admit you are crazy for me and all that.” 

Your mouth fell open at his words, frowning in slight annoyance. Why would he play with you like that? He knew? He knew about your feelings all along? He knew how he made you feel, yet never said anything or acted upon it? Or well, maybe he was, just now how you expected, but still. You pressed your hands on his chest and pushed him slightly, away from you, which he only stumbled back one step.

“You dick! I hate–” 

Your words were cut off instantly when two rough hands came to cradle your cheeks, pulling you into a deep kiss that stole every breath and word away. A kiss that you knew was not like the others because you could feel it in every movement and in the way he held you. His body flushed against yours, and your hands moved to grip his waist, feeling your cheeks burning with happiness, with nervousness, with embarrassment.

One of his hands went to the back of your neck to pull you even deeper into the kiss. He groaned a bit into your lips as you two moved in a dance you had been rehearsing for months now. He was holding your head as if he were holding a treasure, holding you just like he held that Garfield mug. 

You could feel the heat coming off of him; the more he kissed you, the more it all intensified. His shirt was crumpling under your fists as you tried to move him closer, but it was impossible at this point. Your mind was turned into mush, the world around you was nonexistent, and it was just him. Everything was him.

His lips slowly separated from you with a smack, his breath hitting your lips as he kept stealing pecks. He was almost agitated, desperate, vulnerable.

“I like you, Peach…” Another kiss that detonated your poor heart, along with his words. Those words you were expecting to hear at one point, hoping that they were at all there. “Fuck, I– I really fucking like you…”

You didn’t know if you were breathing. It all felt like a dream. It didn’t feel real just because of how perfect it was, how perfect it felt to have your feelings be reciprocated in this manner, with the same intensity. But he had to know it too. You had to come back to your senses. You had to find your voice again.

“I really like you too, Eddie…” He smiled against your lips, prompting you to do it as well, a joyous giggle escaping you before he kissed you again. The hand behind your neck moved to cradle your other cheek once again. He pulled away, his eyes looking for your hazy ones as you two breathed heavily.

“Say you’re mine…” His eyes showed an intensity like never before, and you were still in awe at the whole situation. He gulped, scanning your face as he waited for your answer. “I need to hear it… I need to hear you say you’re mine and mine only, sweetheart.”

You didn’t know why there was any need for that. He should know it. He should know you were his and have been his for a long while now. But maybe he wanted to hear it from you. And you would comply, because either way, it was the truth.

“I’m yours, Eds… Just yours…” He smiled widely, and you thought you saw him tremble, before he pulled your face in for another searing kiss. You felt your eyes fill up with tears, but you weren’t going to fight them this time. There was no need to fight against your feelings anymore.

“Hell yes…” He cheered onto your lips, making you chuckle as he kept kissing you, never stopping. You wanted to know, too. You wanted to hear him say it too. You pulled away from the kiss, but your lips never stopped brushing his.

“What about you?” His eyes found yours, and you’ve never seen him looking down at you this way. It felt as if you were his entire world right now. Was it conceited to believe that? Was it too much to think that way? He gave a huff before talking, his voice low, rough, yet deep with emotion.

“I’m yours, Peach… I’m all yours.” His hands now wrapped tightly around your entire frame as yours wrapped around his shoulders. You could feel him rubbing your back as he kissed you again, sealing the confession. You were on cloud nine, or on another planet, from how light you felt. The nerves were still there, the turning in your stomach was still happening, but now it was for another reason entirely.

Happiness.

You were so happy. You could feel it in him too, as he kissed you, deepening the kiss after a while. His tongue danced with yours as his hips clashed against you, eliciting some small moans against his lips. The temperature around you was quickly building up, and all you wanted was to hold him in the most intimate of ways. This would be different from all those other times. This was going to be completely different.

His hands moved downwards towards the back of your thighs. You felt him grip you tightly before he did a little hop and moved away from the counter, making you gasp through the kiss and cross your legs around his waist. You pulled away from the kiss as he chuckled, walking towards the stairs. Your eyes widened, shaking your head, yet a smile was on your lips.

“I swear, Eddie, if you drop me on the stairs–”

“I am not going to drop you, Peach!” He walked while carrying you as if you were feather light. If he was putting in any effort, he was not showing it. You clung to him as you whined at each step he took on the narrow staircase. “I carried Steve up here once. Princess style.”

“What!?” Your head snapped to look at him, and he was smiling, nodding as he finally reached the top.

“He was blasted off drunk, and he couldn’t help me at all. The couch was taken by Nancy, so I had to make due. She didn’t want to sleep in my bed.” You rolled your eyes, your teeth nipping on his jaw, making him groan your way.

“I wonder why… Slut.” His eyes widened, looking at you for a few seconds as if he couldn’t believe what you had just called him. Your heart was too joyful to care about the consequences of your comment, and he glared at you before smirking.

“You’re calling me a slut, huh?” And just like that, you were thrown onto the bed, making you squeal as you bounced against the mattress. He was instantly crawling on top of you after he took his shoes off. He was smirking, and there was lust in his eyes, lots of it, but something else resided in them now, something more tender. “Guess I have to remind you just how bad of a slut you turn for me, Peach.” 

He was dirty-talking to you, but there was another tone to it. It was still the same volume, the same vibrato, the same rough, lustful implication, yet it was different. Everything was different. 

From the way that he kissed you stupid into the bed, from the way he undressed you, from the way he kissed down your entire body, from the way he didn’t hold back when marking you this time. He left hickies on your neck, on your sides, on your legs, and with these, you knew everything was actually real. It was happening. Eddie was marking you as yours. 

So you did the same. 

When you got on top of him, you made sure to mark him in the same manner, and he didn’t stop you, nor complain. In fact, it was as if Eddie was more vocal than before. He kept calling your name, over and over and over. He called you ‘Baby.’ You kissed him all over, his nose, his cheeks, his collarbones, his chest, and his legs, just everywhere. 

You rode him as he held you close, kissing your neck, nibbling in between the crook of it and your shoulder. His forehead was sweaty as you two moaned and groaned against each other. Calling one another's names over and over again.

You fluttered around him as he kissed your neck, then your shoulder, and you climaxed when he sucked on your skin, marking you up again. He tipped over the edge just a second after you did, and he was left looking at you, still holding you close to him as you straddled his hips.

“My girl.” You smiled breathlessly at the nickname, and he moved the two of you, laying you down on the bed without moving from inside of you. He kissed the tip of your nose, then your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin as if he were to bite down, pressing himself even deeper inside of you, making you choke on your breath. “Mine…”

You felt emotional, tears threatening to fill your eyes as you held him close to you. Nothing could compare to this moment. You were his, and he was yours. After this, there would be no more hiding, no more secrets, and you could go out in public, be like this with your friends, around strangers, finally introducing Eddie to your mom. You could barely believe it.

“Yours… Just yours, Eddie…”

Finally.

end of chapter 25

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[juletheghoul]

crossing the line

a/n: I have been possessed by this man, he has singlehandedly cured my writers block. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for joining in the hysteria with me, thanks for cheering me on my love Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus jerking it so right, creampie, vaginal fingering, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.1k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

Maybe someone else would have been upset to see how little they owned in the world, but it made no difference to you. The tunic on your back, an extra one to swap out for cleaning, a shawl, and a pair of sandals. That was all you had, that was all you needed, not much to fill your new quarters, modest as they were. Only let you get accustomed to your duties all the quicker. 

You held no melancholy at having been sold into the service of another, it was the story of your life and had happened before. You had no doubts that it would happen again. Instead, you focused on learning the layout of the new villa that would be your home, on learning the moods of your new Dominus and praying to the Gods that he was not heavy handed with his slaves. 

You’d been purchased by none other than Marcus Acacius, the General of the army of Rome. 

Getting used to being in his presence took great effort, meeting his gaze was akin to being struck by lightning. He had the unique power to make your stomach roil like waves, but it wasn’t always an entirely unpleasant feeling. He was older, his hair streaked with gray and his face lined with age but it did nothing to diminish his beauty, or his prowess. You could almost believe he was a marble statue, an Emperor of the past, come to life. He’d caught your eye instantly. 

Months passed, then a year, and you did indeed learn his moods. You learned all about his needs and did well to anticipate his wants, so much so that eventually, he had you follow him around like a shadow. Your prayers had been answered, although his moods could get quite dark, he never raised his hand to anyone in his service. He had no need to. He could correct any misstep with a look. There was a cloud that loomed over him though, an intensity, an air about the man of bottled energy. Any words he did speak were short, and cut to the heart of the matter and despite the fact that he never hurt you or the others, you thought it might only be a matter of time before someone got the brunt end of his misplaced wrath. 

“He has been away from the battlefield for too long, pay him no mind. Do your duties, and he will settle.” One of the older women in the house noticed the way you wring your hands at his dark temperament, seeing her unbothered by it did much to calm you. 

You didn’t notice it at first, but more and more often you felt his eyes linger on you. Felt him follow as you set the table with his meals, when you helped him dress in the morning, more still when you helped him with his night time rituals. He was unabashed and unrelenting, his eyes traveling the length of you, lingering on the swell of your breasts when you stood before him, on your backside when you walked away. You knew the look, had seen it in countless men in the houses you’d served before. You’d seen on the boy that served with you when you were both coming to the age of such things, when young men stretched and grew overnight, and girls flowered, breasts blossoming and blood coming at the turn of the moon. You had seen it in the young man that had taken your chastity, fumbling at your tunic when everyone had gone to sleep.

At first it had shocked you, not because of some notion of propriety or disgust, this was something that happened in every house. The Dominus was there to be served, no matter what they wanted, it came with your station in life, what shocked you, was how welcome his gaze was. How much you relished his heated stare, how much you wanted him to look at you, always. He’d been the object of every heated fantasy you’d had since stepping foot in the house but you’d been under the impression that he was a solitary creature, uncaring for the company of anyone, except his hounds, two great big beasts that he doted on. He never pressed the matter however, and so you contented yourself with your dreams. 

-

He’d been gone most of the day, leaving you to help the other attendants with their duties, and the time passed quickly, and with the moon rising you thought it best to go to sleep–trusting that by this hour, surely he’d be staying put. With your own clothes washed and hanging to dry for the morning, you settled into bed. It was not to last however, one of the older women came through not long after you’d undressed and gotten into bed and announced that he’d arrived, looking for you. 

“God’s be damned.” You swore under your breath, “Gratitude, I will see to him shortly.” 

You had no choice but to put on one of the damp tunics, hissing at the frosty touch but running off to tend to him just the same. 

With a light knock to announce your presence, you entered his private chambers. 

“Apologies Dominus, I had thought you would be gone until the morning.” You bowed your head in deference to him, “Shall I fetch food and wine? Or will you be going to sleep?” His eyes were narrow slits, fixed on your body. You looked down to where he stared and noted that the wet fabric left nothing to the imagination. The dark patch of hair between your legs was clear as day, as was everything else. “Apologies Dominus, I had washed them when I thought you would be gone.” You stood there, the room pregnant with tension as he looked his fill. After what felt like hours, he looked up to your face and the expression made your nipples harden, a fact he did not miss. 

“No, Girl. I am not hungry.” He set about undressing and you hurried to help him, doing your best to keep your touch from lingering too long. “I will cleanse and go to sleep. Snuff out some of these candles, and be off to bed.” His voice was low, and it opened a river between your thighs, the arousal for him so sharp it ached. 

“Yes Dominus.” You did as he asked, leaving only a couple of candles burning near his bed, and leaving him there. You were just closing the door to your quarters when you realized his basin had not been filled, so you ran back to make sure he had the water he needed. It would have to be cold at this hour. 

This time, you did not knock, hoping that he’d still be preoccupied enough that you could just slip in, fill his basin and slip out. 

There was a slick, rhythmic noise that greeted you, along with a low, guttural groan. His chamber was darker without as many candles but the sight that greeted you was clear as day, and would forever be burned into your mind. Him, bathed in candlelight, his cock thick and shiny with his pearly arousal. 

His strength could never be denied, but like this, with his arm flexing with each long stroke, his muscles glinted. You’d seen all manner of people nude in your service, there was no shame in it. The human body was a work of art and growing up and giving into desires meant you’d seen men nude and ready to rut, but this was something else. The young men you'd been with were callow boys. This was a man. 

You stood there, frozen, and aching with an emptiness you hadn’t felt this keenly in so long. 

He felt you then, and looked up to see you watching him and before you could say anything he focused on the place so clearly visible through the wet fabric between your legs and moaned a filthy moan. You didn’t know whether to drop the jug of water and run, or mount him like you would a wild horse. You bit your lip, willing him to beckon you forth to him.

“Did you come back just to torment me, girl? Or would you lend a hand?” He watched your face, letting you decide what you wanted, you put the jug down and walked towards him. 

“I live to serve you, Dominus.” His brow furrowed with every step you took until his face tipped up to look into your eyes. 

“Take that off–” He grunted the last word, squeezing his cock in his fist while you obeyed. “Put your foot right here.” He gestured to the spot beside his thigh, and you did. “Spread it open. I want to see it.” He watched your sex, his mouth opening in a silent ‘O’ when you complied. “Are you wet for me, girl?” He sped up, fucking his fist in earnest. 

“Yes Dominus.” You slipped your fingers down, dipping them inside for a moment before showing him. He moaned again and your heart felt like a hummingbird in your chest. He grabbed at your fingers with his other hand and shoved them into his mouth, eyes closed and groaning around them and it was almost too much. 

“Take it Dominus, take me.” You whispered, watching his rapturous gaze with unwavering desire. You had no time to think, because within a second, he was up and pushing you down onto his bed, settling between your spread thighs. His sex hung heavy, an angry red and for a moment your stomach dropped imaging it inside you. 

“This will be quicker than I would wish it to be,” He grasped himself in hand, almost trembling as he lined himself up and sunk inside with one, quick thrust. “Gods above, girl, this little cunt was made for me.” He couldn’t hold himself back or give you time to adjust to his size, instead he set a brutal pace, and you held on, with arms around his neck and legs high on his hips for dear life. 

Your fingers ached with how tightly they gripped the curls at the base of his skull. You pulled him closer, needing to feel his weight as he stretched you open on his length, over and over, making everything bounce with the force of it. He was right about it being quick though, a handful of pumps was all it took for him to seize up, one hand palming your breast as he seized with a growl. You felt it, the spurt of him deep inside.

“It is a gift, my gift.” He watched himself, hissing with discomfort as he pulled himself out. “My seed, just for you.” His breath came in pants as he drew himself out, softened and spent and you were struck again by his beauty. With the flush of exertion blooming on his cheeks, and the rare smile on his lips, you couldn’t help but mirror the expression, even as your own climax slipped away with every passing second. “Your turn, now I must see pleasure on your face.” He huffed out the words before laying on his side to your right, resting his head on one hand to gain a better view of you spread out beside him. 

His fingers found the source of divinity between your legs. 

“Spread those pretty thighs nice and wide for me, girl, I would have access to all of you.” He spoke low, pressing his lips to your temple as his fingers used the slip of his own mess to stoke the fire spreading through your veins. “So lovely.” 

The reverence in his tone was so at odds with the confidence in his fingers, his skill was no tawdry thing and within a few moments the euphoria was so close you could taste it. You turned your face to him, silently begging for his mouth and he obliged, his kiss sweet as summer wine and all at once the wave crested. Your legs closed of their own accord, but this only bolstered him to slip two fingers inside, pumping through his seed and your liquid desire, laughing softly at the way you clutched at his arm. 

All of the times before, had been a jest. It was hard to know if anything you felt before could even be called pleasure. 

“Can you walk?” He pressed his lips to your shoulder, lowering them until he took a nipple into his mouth. You nodded. 

“Yes Dominus.” He placed a final kiss to the soft skin of your breast, the whiskers on his face tickling you. 

“Very well, off to bed.” The smile was gone, but it was replaced with a sleepy, satisfied look, one that you were sure would be gone in the morning. 

“Yes Dominus.” You rose, on shaky legs, grabbed your damp tunic, and slipped out of his chambers. 

—

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[sunflower1experiment]

Chapter 7...?

Prev

Tw// Blood, imagery of gore, neck fracturing, death.

Do you, even remember what happened?

What did you see

You pulled the lever, yes that is correct.

You had the evidence... No that is incorrect.

You had the evidence, and gave it to another but carried some of it just in case, Correct.

They shot Harley, creating a reaction of you running to his aid to cater to him, but then you were taken away. Leading to the ruin of this plan but not the backup plan, so where and what does this mean to you? Did the plan work, it obviously did yes?

If that were the case to begin with: Why did he find you bleeding? Not just that but your body was mangled to the point of needing dire medical attention or a mercy kill.

Next was the hour of joy, you started running through the building, warning everyone to evacuate, Rich was the first to notice your panic and starts to question your erratic behavior. All you could do was breath anxiously while tears start to flood your eyes for the final time. Then you both flinch when ushering screams fill the ears of everyone in the room, you then move past him upstairs.

"Hurry up!" You order the others; it felt so futile by the end of your outburst of determination to protect your fellow workers, was it even worth it?

Were the toys safe? They are safe, Correct, and incorrect..

They will suffer the consequences of eating human flesh, while your creation suffers the injuries of Prototype for protecting the "heretics", thus.... mistaking you as an enemy.

Weeks ago

Wandering down the hallways of no man's land, carrying your notes for the mapping of this prison. This was the plan you had written down for yourself, for the children and toys.

Gather food

Check the secret exit that Harley showed you years ago

Make sure Doey and the children are mentally prepared for the process.

Get it ready to leak the evidence.

Keep Poppy away from Prototype.

Go see Harley one more time....

The first few words are crossed out, you love that man, truly but you couldn't see him again. Not now, "Not yet.."

Had you paid attention you would have felt the presence of another, maybe even register the smell of flowers that lured you further towards the lab. Upon realizing the mistake and scent your mind immediately panics, was it really down here!? With a turn you gasp as robotic hands begin strangling you, your mind panicking and trying to create an image of the figure before you.

It suddenly drops your body; you gasp then try to rise up until its clawed hands jerk upward, pulling you as well, your panicked gasps and grottily cries would be in vain. The uncomfortable feeling, the sounds of a loud snap fill the room. Then it drops you when it realizes the error of its actions. Because it felt fear, from your blood...?

You gurgle pathetically, trying to speak while it begins to try and fix whatever it could, but it only made everything worse. Your screams and cries caused it to panic, it could hear you but couldn't recognize the being who had created it. Suddenly a bright idea came to mind, what if...

In the midst of all that pain, you hadn't realized Harley had found your body, his weak cries and apologies mixed with blaming your naivety made your vision blur. Your hand weakly moves, to cup his TV head before he gently presses it against your cheek. In this twisted comfort, you felt that maybe somewhere in that cold heart of his, Harley may have loved you in some twisted way.

It returns the night of your last breaths, carefully catering your remains, like Harley's procedure...

Next was your skin, it was human flesh, not perfect, not beautiful, it reeks, doesn't smell like flowers...so it grabs whatever seams, cloth, flower petals even and stitches this new body together.

All for your sake, it owes you that much for creating and dying in its hands.

It was no longer it.

No, it was merely functioning from your blood and using the memories of the cells that you gave it, this strange phenomenon of science created a thrill within Harley as he watches this masterpiece recreate you. Just like what he did with the children, Prototype shouldn't see this. Otherwise, he would hurt you too, so he watches in awe as this robotic being practically performs his own work, using a Poppy flower and catering your organs.

When it comes to, it sat up and stared at the mirror.

Despite everything...

It was you...it was still you...

Doey moves closer, Poppy does the same. Everything was quiet, the medic was the first to move over, carefully removing the cloth until the figure gasps awake. Doey shields the toys while they let out little screams in panic, but it only got more strange..

The figure had...food?

It slowly rises up, a bit wobbly before the cloak fell off, revealing a doll like figure, LED eyes and...two sets of hands. Uncomfortably, Poppy speaks with a shake in her voice. "U-Um, who are you? If you...don't leave we'll...We'll have to kill you." She didn't know what the hell to say, she was just a kid! The figure merely walks forward, revealing the same-colored orbs, you had...

"Hello, Poppy..." You say with a calm smile, with a quick blink your attitude changes as you cheerfully wave. "Hi Doey!"

"Mz!?" What happened to you!? They get ready to run to you, but you shush them gently and motion for them to move back. Too much loud noise outside of the base would attract enemies, luckily you weren't followed by anyone, but you won't take any chances.

As you place the food down, and walk along the floor of safe haven, you were met with Doey's happy nuzzles. "You're alright!? Poppy said you were a goner! I sorta, believed it."

"I did too, but..." You look at your fingers, "My...creation saved me? It made a fatal mistake but recognized me because of the blood cells I implemented within its code." Doey hums, now noticing the huge difference from months ago, so much happened over the passing months and weeks, it was hard to believe the hour of joy was practically so long ago. "How long was I, gone from here?"

"About, four weeks, and....two days, it was honestly not so bad since we had food that lasts for a long time. Even water, how did you do it?"

Doey asks, once more laying on your lap tiredly, Dogday soon moves over and enjoys your warmth too. "I... I guess, my creation did this. It probably found a way out, during my sleep my memories were contorted. Harley saved me but my creation, must've suffered some damages while protecting the toys and the innocent workers. Floral...that was its name, yes. I....that was what I wanted to name my child."

He looks at you while Dogday leans in, nuzzling your hand sadly. "I'm sorry Mz..."

You hug him close rubbing his soft ears while Doey hugs your body close, the two were the most responsive when it came to affection. Same with Kissy, she was patient with it but always very affectionate nonetheless, when things slowly calmed down you began working on the food. "Does Floral have any...cooking parts?"

You pause at the Bobby's question, "Like a pan?"

"Yea, most robots have switchy thingies." Switchy, things? You truly were stunned by such questions that you nearly forgot that Floral could actively hear this, it was searching for whatever Bobby met and your LEDs made an 'X' symbol. "Nope, sorry sweetie. but I can make fruit...bowls?"

"Okayyy." She hugs your leg, more of the critters start scampering over. A catnap holding your foot then Bubba was laying in your lap. "The critters missed you a lot."

Hoppy chuckles, "I know Dogday did, he was so worried about ya."

"Hoppy that is rich coming from you, both you and Kickin were practically waiting impatiently for Mz. Don't get me started on Bubba." The mentioned elephant gave everyone a side glance, "And what of it? The food Mz makes is way better than Doey's cooking."

Doey makes a dramatic gasp, then he holds his chest. "How dare you, I'll have you know I learned from the best chef ever. Poppy." Poppy had to hide her giggles while Kissy shook her head at their silly teasing. You couldn't help but chuckle at them for finally acting like kids for once.

In the midst of the lighthearted banter, you genuinely felt saddened by the fact that you had these kids worried. You are the only adult after all, Poppy was the second eldest with Doey right behind her. So, you needed to enact this plan soon, otherwise you'll be stuck here until everyone starves or dies.

"I have to go back up." They stop and stare at you with scared eyes, "Not today but someday, you all need to be catered to and trained for up and out there, these upcoming days will be brutal now that Prototype knows of my escape. But he is simply not after me, he's after Poppy..."

Poppy flinches when you stop talking, it can't be right. Why her of all the toys? She didn't realize how bad things were since the hour of joy, she only knew of it somewhat but, she didn't know what it meant or how far he'd go. You had told everyone about your knowledge which was why you both collaborated with Ollie.

But you didn't know about Ollie, and even if you did know, you probably would have trusted him back then, but now. She isn't sure, what she fails to understand is that if you had heard his voice before. This whole situation up to now would have changed, maybe it's a good thing, or a bad thing. Who knows.

While placing the fruit bowls down you feel Doey laying in your arms again, "Alright Doey, why are you so affectionate?" He merely shrugs and comfortably hugs you. "You're the only gentle voice that didn't lie. Thank you, Thank you....I'm happy you're here..."

You pause, hugging the doughman close, it wasn't just him talking...you could feel Jack and Matthew, but those last words were definitely from Kevin. He was a very sweet boy, just always rugged and playful, always in need of something to do. "Me too kiddos, me too."

The hours pass by, and the smaller toys were asleep. Careful to cover them and make sure everything was calm; Floral starts to emit a calming pheromone that made the air cool, the safe haven felt, nice. You had to sit beside the door while Boogie bot went to bed, your eyes look at your pair of hands. "......Why?"

'Because you didn't want to die...'

"No, why did you do that?"

'......You told me to..'

"No I didn't, I never gave the order."

'Yes, you did, we are connected by blood. I may have not recognized you, but your blood cells told me to, you were so rooted in self-loathing you hadn't realized how deep it was. I could feel every cell, pumping with anxiety! Rage, Love, Hatred, when you...when I...I could feel the fear, for once I was scared. It didn't affect me before because all I felt was defeat in my circuits that danced with your blood.'

You lean back on the door, some oil mascara dripping from your face as you sigh weakly, 'I only did what I had to do...'

"No, thank you...this was the wake up call I needed. I hate how it had to come to this; we may not understand the pain of these children. But we have to do everything we can to help them and make sure they escape...even, even if I have to lose my humanity."

Floral remains silent after that; you hug your knees close then smile lightly as a sweet doughy hand holds yours. With a gentle squeeze you sit there, rubbing Doey's hand slowly with your thumb.

These children, they're your children...

And you'll do everything and anything to protect them

[bytemee]

chapter three. | WHERE DO YOU SLEEP? — YU JIMIN.

𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 — y/n, a rising music producer, has built her dream career while keeping her personal life under wraps. karina, aespa’s leader, is preparing for a huge comeback with a mini album produced and written by the one and only y/n.

karina knows this is the opportunity of a lifetime, and she has to nail it. the only problem is, she may be a bit distracted by her producer.

something about their connection feels different—like maybe it's worth the risk of prying eyes. but how much will they give up to chase after what they want?

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — includes texts, fluffy, tiny time skip, suggestive jokes aha, and i think that's all.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 — 2.5k

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲— tiktok is down so now im forced to stop procrastinating and update this series

taglist (open) — @sunshinez4 @gtfoiydlyj @yuyuy90 @liaponderstings @rinapomu

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next. extra content.

"when are you gonna teach me the choreography for your solo?" you mutter, breaking the silence between you and jimin. yes, that's correct. jimin. she basically began forcing you to call her by her first name barely two hours after you'd agreed to start over.

she doesn't reply right away. instead, she lets out a faint, breathless laugh, the kind that sounds half-conscious, as if her mind isn't fully caught up with her body. you glance at your phone and notice her eyebrows knit together, her eyes fluttering slightly as she fights to stay present. through the camera, your eyes meet, and for a moment, it's like she's trying to focus on you but can't quite manage it.

"sorry," she apologizes, a shy smile on her face. "i'm listening."

you take in a deep breath, plopping your head back against the headboard of your hotel room bed. "mhm," you reply, a small smile forming on your own lips. it was getting late; you can't blame her if she's a little sleepy.

"so, when are you gonna teach me the choreography?" you repeat, this time a bit slower.

she giggles. "i can't right now."

"why not?"

"because i'm in my underwear."

let's backtrack.

after meeting with jimin, aeri, minjeong, and yizhuo (yes, you're also on a first-name basis with them) for dinner, you and jimin exchanged the correct numbers (after checking five times to make sure you put the right number in).

you and she have been texting each other since and have met in person on numerous different occasions, whether that be because smtown called you both in to finalize the lyrics and final ideas or if it was to simply hang out.

jimin's solo is coming along nicely, and she's been working hard to get it perfect. she's so passionate and driven, and she's always ready to try new things. and even though she's a professional, you can tell she gets nervous sometimes, which is understandable. it's not an easy job, and these past two months have been hectic for everyone.

she didn't even officially record the demo yet that she, you, and her entire team worked on. but the day was coming, and it was coming fast.

"i didn't need to know that," you laugh, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes.

she laughs, the sound muffled by her hand. "i'll teach you next time, okay?"

"i'll hold you to that," you say, pointing at the camera with mock seriousness, though the grin on your face betrays you.

jimin leans closer to her phone, squinting as if trying to look more intimidating. "you think you can handle it?" she teases, raising an eyebrow.

"please," you scoff, reclining further into the pillows. "i have rhythm, you know. don't act like you haven't seen my moves."

she has indeed "seen your moves" because she loved your music, as she admitted to you the first time you met. so, she's seen your music videos, performances, and a couple of interviews. you were great at what you did—music, interacting with fans, and just being... yourself.

it was confusing why you were producing and writing songs for other artists instead of focusing on your own music career.

"your dance moves aren't half bad," she concedes.

"half bad?" you repeat, pretending to be offended. "my dancing is better than half bad."

"really? then show me," she says, her tone daring.

"i'm in my underwear." you playfully mock her earlier statement, your eyes locking on the front camera. she's still in the frame, her head resting against the palm of her hand, the phone propped up against a pillow on the bed.

"so?"

this girl.

you narrow your eyes at the screen, trying not to laugh. "so? what do you mean, so? the hell?"

jimin laughs loudly at the pure shock in your voice, so loudly that she moves out of the camera's view to cover her mouth, trying to keep it down so as not to wake up her roommates.

when she reappears, she's still covering her mouth, and her eyes are watering with unshed tears.

"what?" you laugh, and she shakes her head, lowering her hand and waving it in dismissal.

"nothing, nothing. i just like teasing you," she says, a smile spreading across her face.

"and why is that?"

"because you make it so easy," she replies, and you roll your eyes, not able to contain the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"you should sleep," you whisper; it kind of feels like you didn't want to say the words that had left your lips. it was nice being here with her, even if it was just on a video call. it was almost like you didn't want the night to end, but you had both been up for a while now, and the fatigue was setting in.

"i don't want to," she says softly, her voice sounding more vulnerable than usual. "not yet."

you watch her, and she looks away from the camera, biting her lip. a few moments pass in silence, and then you speak, breaking the quiet. "me neither. but i don't want you to be tired when you wake up tomorrow."

"my schedule's free tomorrow," she says, turning back to face the camera.

"mine too," you respond.

another moment passes, and then you break the silence once more.

"wanna do something tomorrow?"

your legs are beginning to hurt.

a lot.

"i need a bench!" you whine, stretching out your lower back. "i need a place to sit!"

jimin laughs, and her hand flies up to her mouth as if trying to stop herself, but it's no use. she does that a lot, you've noticed. so cute.

you're in a park, the one near the hotel where you're staying. the two of you were going for a walk when suddenly, in the middle of nowhere, you've been walking for quite a long time now. talking about whatever came to mind, and now, your legs are giving out.

"we could just stop and sit down anywhere, you know."

"no, no," you protest. "the bench will come."

jimin snorts. "okay, okay. if you say so."

the two of you continue walking, your steps slowing as you glance around for this mythical bench you're so convinced will magically appear. jimin keeps laughing softly under her breath, her amusement growing with every dramatic sigh you let out.

her gaze rises to the hat on your head, smiling to herself.

"i'm too young to feel this old," you groan, stretching dramatically. "is this what you feel like, unnie?" jimin doesn't respond, shooting you a glare, and you laugh, throwing up your hands in surrender.

finally, she reaches out and tugs it off your head, putting it on her own. "hey," you exclaim, reaching for it, but she dances away.

jimin places the hat on her head, adjusting it with a playful smirk as she steps just out of your reach. "what do you think?" she asks, spinning on her heel dramatically, her hands on her hips.

you pause, crossing your arms with a mock frown. "i think you're a thief, and i want my hat back."

"it suits me better, doesn't it?" she teases, tilting the brim slightly as if she's modeling it for a camera.

yes.

"you wish," you reply, stepping closer, but she takes another step back, grinning.

as she settles into a more natural stance, her fingers brush over the fabric. "you really like this hat, huh?"

you shrug, "it's a good hat."

"it must be," she says, raising her eyebrows. "i mean, you never take it off."

"i barely wear it!" you protest, which was semi-true; it was one of your favorite hats, but you wore it a lot less than others.

"you were wearing this the first time i saw you walking around the company building," she says, and then pauses. "and the second time."

"well, like i said, it's a nice hat."

she laughs, shaking her head.

"do you wanna keep it?" you ask.

jimin blinks, surprised. "keep it? like, keep it forever?"

you nod, a grin spreading across your face. "sure. keep it safe for me."

jimin hesitates, studying your expression. "you're serious?"

"why not? it looks better on you, right?" you say, repeating her own words with a slight shrug.

a slow smile creeps across her face as she adjusts the hat.

she walked a little closer to you for the rest of the day, her shoulder brushing against yours more often, her hand occasionally bumping yours. it wasn't intentional, you were sure, but that didn't mean it didn't make you feel something.

the day passed quicker than you wanted, slipping away before you could really grab hold of it. you kept glancing at her when you thought she wasn't looking, wanting to see the way the light hit her skin, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, the way her nose scrunched up whenever you said something a little too silly.

and she caught you staring, multiple times. but she didn't say anything, didn't point it out, didn't make you feel embarrassed.

just smiled, and smiled, and smiled.

at some point, you ended up at a small café near the edge of the park. it was quiet, tucked away from the busier streets, a perfect little hideaway. you sat across from each other, the table small enough that your knees brushed under it if either of you moved even slightly.

you talked—about anything, everything. you told her about growing up as an artist, how much it took out of you some days, how exhausting it could be to pour so much of yourself into your work and still feel like you weren't enough. and she listened, really listened, her chin propped on her hand as her fingers idly brushed the brim of the hat she still hadn't given back.

you wanted her to keep the hat. you wanted her to have something of yours, something that showed you cared, even if it was just a simple hat. and maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. maybe you were overthinking, reading into things too much.

she made you feel something, something different, something exciting, something that had been missing for so long. and maybe you were being naïve, hoping for something more than what was actually there.

but you couldn't help yourself.

eventually, it was time to part ways. she had her dorm to return to, and you had your hotel room waiting for you. the two of you were still giggling and whispering and talking as you made your way down the street, the sun already starting to set.

your hotel room feels emptier than usual after you part ways with jimin. it's not like there's anything missing, really; everything is just as you left it. the bed is neatly made, your suitcase is half-open in the corner, and your phone sits charging on the nightstand.

you sit on the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair, and check your phone. no new messages. you don't know why you were hoping for one. she probably went straight back to the dorms, tired but smiling—at least, you hope she's smiling.

you sigh, flopping back onto the bed. the ceiling stares back at you as if mocking the restless thoughts running wild in your head.

"stop overthinking," you mutter to yourself, dragging a pillow over your face. you're trying not to admit how much you've started to like her—because liking her feels... complicated.

and you don't want to complicate things.

but maybe it's not as complicated as you're making it.

who knows?

your phone buzzes on the nightstand, breaking the silence. your heart skips a beat as you lunge for it, nearly knocking it to the floor.

the beach is quiet, almost deserted. the sun's long gone, leaving the sky dark, with the moon hanging high, its pale light spilling over the sand. the waves crash softly, the sound blending with the gentle wind. everything feels calm, peaceful.

you sit on the bench, beside her, neither of you saying anything. the stillness isn't awkward, though—it feels good, like it's just the two of you and the ocean. the air smells like salt, the breeze ruffling your hair. you take a deep breath, savoring it, letting the quiet sink in.

jimin's beside you, her back resting against the bench. she hasn't said much since you got here, and you're okay with that. she's content with just having your presence around.

her eyes are closed, her hair fluttering in the wind, strands falling across her face. everything about her seems so effortless, like she belongs here, like this place is where she's supposed to be.

you catch yourself watching her, and it's impossible not to. there's something about the way she seems so at peace, so in tune with everything around her.

it makes you wonder what's going through her head—if she's thinking about work, home, or maybe something completely different. you just wish you could know what's in her mind, even though it doesn't matter. you just like being here, in this moment, with her.

she's so beautiful, and you can't help but think it. the moonlight makes her look even more stunning, softening the sharp lines of her face, highlighting the way her hair catches the light. her lips are slightly parted, like she's lost in her own thoughts.

and then, without thinking, your hand reaches out, brushing a strand of hair off her face. your fingers linger a little longer than necessary, and when you pull back, her eyes open and meet yours.

your heart jumps in your chest, and you pull your hand away, embarrassed. "sorry," you mumble, suddenly feeling awkward. you can't meet her gaze, your eyes shifting to the ground.

"it's fine," she says softly, her voice barely louder than the sound of the waves. she looks at your hands, resting awkwardly in your lap. "your hands are cold," she adds, smiling, and before you can say anything, she takes your hand in hers.

you freeze, a little caught off guard. her hand feels warm against yours, the contact so simple yet so grounding. her fingers curl around yours, and you just sit there, unsure of what to do, but not really wanting to move. it feels right, even if your thoughts are racing. the only thing that matters is that you're here with her, and she's holding your hand.

you sit like that for a while, neither of you speaking, just holding on to each other, feeling the quiet surround you. eventually, jimin leans her head against your shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. "this is nice," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "i don't get to do this very often."

you smile a little, your heart softening at her words. "you make things feel... easy," she adds quietly, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "like i don't have to think so hard about everything."

without thinking, you reply, your voice quiet but sincere. "you don't have to think so hard around me. just be yourself."

she looks up at you, her smile small and shy, and then she rests her head on your shoulder again. "i'll try," she says, squeezing your hand gently.

you squeeze her hand gently, offering her a smile that reassures both of you. "good."

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[popp1n]

GHOSTING THE GOVERNMENT

|masterpost| ao3

Chap 2: A Ghost Ride to Gotham

Pt 3

"We're here," Tucker announced, his voice a low, reverent whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. He peeled his face from the condensation-streaked window, his eyes wide. "Gotham. Actual, honest-to-god Gotham."

A beat of silence, then a collective cheer erupted, echoing off the insulated walls. Sam pumped a fist in the air, a rare, unbridled grin splitting her face. "Finally! No more cramped leg room, no more listening to Tucker's questionable podcasts," she turned to Danny with a grin, "and no more worrying!"

Danny smiled back, the reality just starting to settle in. This was it. The culmination of weeks of planning, of trying to negotiate during ghost attacks, of living on caffeine and hope. "Alright, alright, settle down, Phantoms," he said, trying to sound authoritative, but a wide, excited grin betrayed him. "First order of business." He gestured to the blinking light on the dashboard. "Tucker, kill the feed."

Tucker, already reaching for a toggle switch, nodded gravely. "Camera interference going offline. Say goodbye to our anonymous road trip, folks." With a satisfying click, the subtle hum that had been a constant companion for hours vanished. The van felt suddenly, strangely quiet, no longer broadcasting a distorted, static-filled image to any curious surveillance cameras. They were visible now, truly here.

"No more hiding," Sam murmured, a glint in her eye. "Just blending," Tucker corrected, already pulling up a detailed map on his tablet. "Gotham University campus is about 45 minutes from here, assuming traffic isn't a nightmare. Which, let's be real, it probably is."

As if on cue, a distant siren wailed, a mournful, drawn-out cry that seemed to be the city's unofficial anthem. Danny took a deep breath, the air tasting different here – sharper, laced with exhaust fumes and something indefinably gritty. He looked at his friends, their faces illuminated by the faint glow of Tucker's screen. They were tired, yes, but their eyes held a spark of determination, a shared purpose that had brought them halfway across the country.

"Alright, let's roll," Danny said, his voice firm, the excitement now tempered with a growing sense of resolve. "Gotham U, here we come." The van shuddered back to life, pulling away from the curb and merging into the labyrinthine streets of Gotham, a city that promised both danger and the safety they so desperately sought.

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