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wonryllis · 2 months

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watermelon sugar (m) | sim jaeyun.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼�� 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?

preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.

or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.

meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader

genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, SMUT MDNI!!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessions?, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.

word count. 13,488 unedited! it's word vomit.

warnings. fingering, dry humping, dirty talkkk lots and lots of it, nasty freak jake with innocent(seems to be) girlie, experienced x inexperienced(virgin but has idea), pussy slapping, somewhat drunk sex but there's consent consent, oral (m rec.) different scenes, p in v (unprotected! but pls pls pls do not do this ever use protection!!!!!) multiple orgasms (f.rec), overstimuation(f.rec) and somewhat (m.rec), spitting? slight nipple play, jake is rough and filthy, with heavyyyyy corruption kink it's all throughout the story, strength kink, size difference “i worship the ground you walk on” energy but still dominant jake, jake has soooo many dirty inner thoughts about you it's innumerable. he's a simp for you so you're a slut for him— i guess that's them?

theme song. animals by maroon 5 (jake pov), into you by ariana grande (yn pov)

﹙★﹚ ࣪DRABBLES (coming soon)

` author notes. im sorry for making you guys wait three extra weeks I hope y'all still want to read this,, what do i say it was so horrible before the revamp, thankfully it's so much better now and the smut god, it was so hard to write it i hope it's good enough. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!!

“i don’t mind this feeling.”

YOU DONT KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT, WHATEVER IS HAPPENING BETWEEN YOU BOTH, BUT YOU LIKE IT. IT FEELS SILLY AND FRAGILE AND GOOD. perhaps a little too good.

god forbid what you had done in your past life to get a roommate like jake, a complete package; a concoction of all classic kinds of roommate one could possibly expect. you aren’t complaining though he takes care of you in every way he possibly could. making you feel like his entire world revolves around you, from his time home to the hours he spends on the field. one would ask anything of him and his answer would surely include you in one way or another, everyone knew it, everyone could see it, the way he feels.

he makes you breakfast, he helps with the cleaning- you both actually have it planned to have a cleaning day every week to polish the apartment. he cooks for you and he does the dishes more often than not, the only exception being the time when you insist deathly on doing it yourself because come on you gotta do at least some thing around the house.

to add to the perfect mixture of god gifted man, he video games in his room with the door shut so that the sound of him shouting at the screen doesn’t disturb you. does the laundry- even your bras and underwear, he’s just too used to those clothings to give a care to get embarrassed (outwardly). he would never admit the way they get him all hot and bothered when he thinks of all the places those fabrics have touched. how wild his imagination runs and all the things he wishes he could do to you. all the sounds he could get, out of you and all the things you'd taste of.

you are his candy (well not exactly ‘his’ but according to him this nickname of yours is only and I repeat only reserved for him) literally because you are all over sweets all the damn time and figureratively because he’d die to have a taste of you; the forbidden fruit of his life, too innocent for a person like him to ruin. but lord would he give up everything to land a chance to lay his hands on you not so innocently.

this man does not give a fuck about who is not you, and maybe occasionally spare a care for his two best friends who so far have only been blessed enough to know your name because jake has made it clear that you're off-limits and if they ever dare to do anything given the opportunity he'd rip off their balls and feed it to ducks (he's serious he swears)

getting to the real point of your dynamic: the only drawback— jake sim is a renowned fuckboy on campus, the heartbreak prince and you, his miss americana as they all like to call it. it is a daily routine, having to find a new girl in the house and ofttimes hearing them even with your door closed and your hands pressed on your ears. at first it felt disgusting, then you got used to it, and now very recently you’ve been feeling weirdly dejected. a certain kind of hatred towards the girls, something you can’t pin point exactly to why and what it is.

“candy, my laptop broke down again!” jake's raspy voice dances through the little cracks of the bathroom door as you prepare for a quick shower. you sigh, tightening the towel wrapped around you before stepping out. a short knock at his batman poster door left ajar, and he's whipping his head to have a look at you as if he knew you'd be in the middle of washing up. a little secret, yes he knew because everytime ahead of bathtime you make sure to have a sip of your watermelon slush stack from the fridge and the sound of it's door reaches his room just right to let him know.

he remains seated on his bed, a sheepish smile on his face. your eyes fall at his desk to see his laptop closed, he tricked you, and like always you fell for it,“maybe if you used your school laptop to study instead of playing games on it, this wouldn't happen all the time. but i assume you probably did it to get me here, it’s not gonna work everytime yun,” you click your tongue in feigned annoyance making him grin wider,“well it does work everytime though,” he knows how to have you on his tail just like you know how to have him wrapped around your finger. it only seems fair, you both know what gets the other going and you use it to your advantage.

“what is it?” asking in a sing song tone, you plop down on his desk chair. spinning in rounds with your legs out swinging, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair while looking up at the phosphorescent glow-in-the-dark stickers you had forcefully put up on the ceiling of his room. a funny memory of jake trying to stop you because it would defeat the whole image of his room only to fold when you gave him the puppy doe eyes, baby talking that you really wanted to do it. it doesn't take much to have jake cave in, just one look from you and the boy is a flatline. fuckboy? he is that to everyone but to you he's practically whatever you want him to be, though you have never really had a talk about it.

“actually eunsang, she-” there is a hesitation is his tone you are well aware of, having almost a clear idea of what he's about to say,“i told- no warned you not to get involved with her for a second time, didn’t i?” you scold, feeling that little twinge of hurt knowing he probably will keep on being involved with girls like this no matter what you say. it's the one thing where you don't have him under your spell. or that's you think, i mean you you have no idea do you of how much he wants you. just like how you have no idea how much you want him.

“yes but it happened and now she’s after me all the time, she even showed up to my soccer practice yesterday! please just this one time, please help me get rid of her,” clamping together his hands in a plea, jake pouts as best as he can, giving you his puppy eyes. but when you don’t show a reaction of any sort he resorts to the next best guaranteed thing: bribery,“i’ll buy you tons of watermelon lollipops! from your favorite brand that too!” eyes sparkling with hope and expections of having you fall for it, like you do every single time, he waits. albeit patterns break, in everything and everyone.

“no, i’m on a diet. i gave up on sweets, what if i get diabetes? will you,” you point at him dramatically,“take responsibility?” to which his stance morphs into one of stunned. he would gladly take responsibility for you at any given chance, but it's one of more gravity and significance than diabetes. and he's sure he's not one you should be in care of as more than anything that you are right now. he's too corrupted and you are too naive.

“yes of course i’ll help you take your meds and-” he mumbles in a quick, hurried note aware that you’ll not let him answer if he’s not fast enough. you still beat him to it though, speaking loud over and above his voice, to drown out his words despite hearing them quite clearly,“will you? NO you will not! so let me just shower peacefully before i get the urge to lock you in the bathroom when you’re in there later,” with a silence after, one that has jake grinning again at your cuteness, you take it as a que to rush out swiftly. trying to make it to the bathroom before he decides to use his strength against you and hold you down wherever he wants. which though hasn't been often, has always left you breathless and flustered to a point you refuse to admit.

training to become an athlete, a buff center forward in comparison to you who barely puts effort into doing even a little bit of yoga once a month. it’s obvious he’ll have you give in if he wants but he’s too sweet to force you. and of course it's obvious, the tension of the strength kink that looms over in the room.

it comes as a shock to you when the next day, the first thing you see waking up in the morning and walking into the living room: is eunsang standing by the kitchen counter. and important point: clad in one of jake’s dress shirts that you recognize from doing his laundry occasionally, pouring herself a glass of water. oh you had to see this coming, this is jake we're talking about will be really ever like ever not bring over girls? no matter if they're clingy or not. the answer is ambiguous and definitely not to your favor.

she’s shares a small smile upon noticing you, a friendly smile which you know is obviously fake. she’s doing it just to look good and polite in jake’s eyes. just to show that she's not bothered by you, because as said everyone knows if they don't like you then they automatically are on jake sim's blacklist. and being the star player of the team, his acquaintance is more or less influential to a large extent, so note to be taken be nice to candy to not be on the cross out list.

however as sad as it is to say it’s of no use. she’s not even there in his eyes to begin with. the moment the jake comes out of his room, his field of vision doesn’t include her. passing by her very visible figure like she’s a microscopic bug to ruffle your hair in a dotting manner, his morning voice coming out in an adoring essence,“good morning, candy,” he smiles and scrunches up his nose when he notices the baby cat you both adopted last month, curled up in the corner of the couch,“and mei,” he acknowledges your pet kitty but not the girl he brought home, that should speak volumes to you, jake thinks. treating you like candy of his world you are, shouldn't that be the ultimate giveaway of his feelings? like even his hookups can see how down bad he is for you why is it that you're the only one who can't? he wants you to know but at the same time he feels he's not right for you, a dilemma he handles by fucking up over and over again.

wishing him morning in response you give him a look which silently delivers your question of what is going on. you did hear them last night (more like her), but you didn’t know it was her her. you weren’t even expecting her to be the one. after the conversation with jake yesterday, she was the last person you would have ever assumed. he sends you a flying look that he’ll explain everything later, shushing you off before you speak out loud.

“yunie,” your ears perk up at her voice, eyes narrowing in a deadly stare at the nickname you exclusively call him with, leaving her crusty mouth. certainly, like jake you blossom a definite possession over names too. perhaps it's the effect of living with him 24/7 but you seem to have picked up a lot of his antics.

jake’s eyes shift to look at you for a moment and then he’s running a hand through his hair, dropping his sweet conduct to get back into his usual cold fuckboy self. he absolutely does not like the way your brows turn down and the pretty smile you were previously adorning for him falling off your pretty lips. he can tolerate anything but seeing you bothered in any way. “you’re still here? it's better if you leave soon, candy doesn’t like all this,” walking around her to the other side of the counter and into the kitchen to open the upper cabinets, jake ignores her like a plague as if he wasn't showing her heaven last night. but alas, nothing comes above you, she should have known that.

“what do you want for breakfast candy? should i make you some toast? or do you want your usual dose of sugar?” his palms rest on the granite countertop, leaning against it slightly while turning to fix his gaze on you. it makes eunsang rage with anger, throwing you a demeaning look before she disappears into jake's room.

the moment his bedroom door closes, you feel the unfamiliar weight on your shoulders relax a tad bit,“my watermelon slush please,” finding your cozy spot on the kitchen counter, you give him your most adorable pout feeling like you had to gain back his warmth after the hookup. your legs dangle over the height between, toes softly brushing against jake's calves every two seconds. watching him prepare your drink, you decide to voice out the thing that had been disturbing since the moment you walked out your room,”did you like make a friends with benefit kind of arrangement or something?” it comes out in a low whisper, afraid if you said it too loud it'd come true. the thought of it disturbs you for some reason, it’s not new for you to see random girls in your apartment; or to hear them while they’re at it. yet it still gives you a sort of uneasy feeling, something you do not like feeling.

“it was a last time kind of deal actually,” he stops briefly to give you a quilty smile. finishing your sweet slushy just as eunsang hastily steps out, wearing what you assume her clothes from the previous night. she slows down to observe as jake hands you the cup, repulsively watching you take a sip,“is it good?” hearing him speak in a tone way different than the one she’s acquainted with him using with her has stomp her way out in a grumpy fit.

looking up from the edge of your cup with hopes to give her a sly stare, your eyes follow her figure, flinching silently when she bangs the door close harshly,“bitch,” you comment, hooded orbs shifting back to jake who scowls in disapproval,”language candy,” he reminds, knowing very well it does nothing to stop you.

“sorry yunie but she's so agressive, and for what?” you whine.

“from what i’ve seen, you’re way more aggressive,” jake laughs softly, index finger coming to poke at your cheek tenderly.

with full cheeks, you grin like a cheshire cat and jake feels his heart rate speeding up, who gave you the permission to be the cutest person he's ever known? the urge to kiss you just keeps growing with each passing day and with with each little sneaky smile and doe eyes you give him.

“we need to get the groceries this week, i have after classes soccer practice for the next four days and we're not gonna last that long,” the thought of spending the next four evenings alone in the unit is gloomier than the half assed ham and cheese toast jake makes for himself. if only you said yes to some proper breakfast, his taste buds and stomach wouldn't be suffering so much.

you nod as if he has eyes on his back, knowing well he's gonna want you with him but not force you, if you'd say no. whatever you want, is whatever he does.

“‘m gonna go take a shower first then,” hopping down, you place your empty mug in the sink, and skip to your room to take your bath supplies.

“let’s shower together,” jake's friskiness thrives in the way he shouts with an undertone of mischief. watching you with a teasing gaze as you step out the threshold of your bedroom door. a tiny smirk spreading onto his lips when you scrunch your nose in a grimace. cute, he mouths thinking you wouldn't notice but god you do. he's clearly joking but you can’t help feeling flustered internally. keeping up with his flirty and touchy stunts and tricks should have made it easier for you by now, but over a year in and you're yet to find yourself getting used to it. he’s too attractive and hot to get used to; at least that’s what excuse your brain gives you, which honestly is true to some extent. his looks score a lot of points and you can't deny that.

“and if we get locked in there, who’s gonna get us out? you know the door lock has problems,” you complain in a soft groan which, in his eyes is more adorable with the little annoyance you show. if you think you could ever intimidate him, you probably will because he'll melt right away to even think of a counter back.

his stance straightens at that, a fleeting look of flabbergast clouding his face before he’s breaking out in a taunt of smile, eyes closing in on you in a brazen look,“so does that mean if the lock was fine you’d actually shower together with me,” he feels this triumph of emotions, a sudden rush of sugar at the realization that'd probably maybe perhaps someday let him get in the shower together with you. the sheer excitement he experiences through his veins is over the roof, just the possibility of something so intimate with you is a bite of golden spoon for him.

he purposely stops all he’s doing to stare at you, moving his eyebrows cheekily, trying to provoke you,“i never said that,” you stick your tongue out at him, closing the door in a soft slam and crying out a ‘you’re sick in the head!’

“only for you!” jake yells back, chuckling to himself as he leaves the room.

two hours later you’re both strolling through the isles of shelving, bright florescent lighting, end displays of popular products, sale signs, banners with store mottoes, isle signs with product locations, rows and rows of household products and everything you'd always spend lots of time looking through until jake has to drag you back home.

he pushes the cart while you look around for items to throw in and cross out one by one from your checklist. the way you both discuss and bicker over what to keep in the cart and what not to every two minutes will lead any sane person to conclude you as a couple. you both would also admit it feels as such. how he insists on taking what you like while you argue that you’re on a diet and need to cut down on the consumption and desires of your sweet tooth. it feels sweet, he feels sweet. and you make him want to coddle you so bad, like what do you mean you're on a diet? you're perfect already. too perfect for him.

“i’m taking the pop tarts!” you hear him shout from two or probably three Isles away while you look through some new make up launches,”…okay fine!” capturing the attention of an old couple who glance at your way and mutter something you don’t quite catch but you assume it’s probably about how annoying you both are, shouting at the mart.

“yunie look these are so pretty,” you point at the line of lipgloss as jake comes over with cart. he hums in agreement, watching you scan through the shades in an animated mood, mumbling over the names and speaking of how it'd look good for an everyday look or with summer dress you recently got. oh how smitten he feels, observing the way you seem so pumped up simply over gloss.

“there's no mirror— “

“try it on me,” oh he's bewitched under your spell.

jake stands still as you apply the mauve on him, staring at you through hooded eyes,”oh, this one’s really pretty on you!” you beam, looking up at him as if he could see it too.

“it'd look prettier on you,” he's hardly able to whisper out, gaze trained on the way you part your lips while you wipe it off his and apply another. if he didn't have a strong self control, by now he would have shoved his tongue down your throat in the dirtiest and messiest kiss you'd ever known. knocking your breath out, as well as his. he's already on the verge of losing it with every little touch you leave on his lips, wetting your own as a habit.

“which one should i take?” you ask something cutely, jake almost feels guilty for the thoughts swimming in his head.

“i’ll buy all of it for you, we can do something like a chapstick challenge you know. the one where you kiss and guess the flavor,” he teases loving the tiny exasperated glare you throw him. “yunn, be serious! which one?”

“these two?” he points to ones you commented were pretty feeling impatient at the conjured up image of you wearing the colors on with you tiny, sexy little sundresses you got hidden in your closet. please feel guilty man he thinks.

in the end jake (successfully) convinces you to continue your diet later over the summer break offering to help you with it. and grabs a bunch of packets of your favorite snacks, your favorite brand’s watermelon lollipops and not to forget the fruit itself. checking all out he insists on carrying everything himself, only handing you the little bag that held your lollies in case you'd want one on the way back.

the subway is more crowded than usual, scarcely any seat left. it takes you a whole minute to scan around for an empty one, immediately encouraging jake to take it. a silly game of rock paper scissors to decide who stands, insisting firmly that he sit when you end up winning. the grocery bags rest by his foot and you stand between his legs, holding onto the bar wobbling every now and then. it’s just one stop left when jake suddenly pulls you onto his lap, adjusting you comfortably on his thighs and placing his hands on your legs possessively. you turn to look at him, lashes brushing against his skin and lips parting in the slightest at the adrenaline you feel pumping into your fast beating heart. the muscles in his chest feel firm at the faint touch of your back against him, the thumping of his own heart similar to that of yours.

he leans closer to whisper in your ear,“that creep right there kept staring you up and down,” pointing with a discreet move of his eyes as he drills holes through his stern gaze fixed on the said guy. you on the other hand, grow hot with irritation, perhaps just as hot and bothered you are feeling jake pressed so close. an abrupt and sharp impulse of anger.

“i’ll show him the fuck he was staring at," you mutter out, teeth gritted, and hands almost forming into fists, expression as innocent as always. jake seems to catch on to what you’re about to do and before you can get up from lap, his hold on you gets tighter,"okay, i know you hate this candy, but i don’t want you getting hurt in any way, if he does anything i’ll make sure to set him right, for now i think he got it that he’s not gonna stare at you however he wants,” hand grabing yours in gentle caresses along the expanse of your arm. delicate and slow like a soothing rub. his touch just as enticing and stimulating it is, is also calming, knowing exactly how to pacify your hot headedness. jake finds that really hot about you, the way you look like you couldn't harm a bug but he's seen you throw kicks and punches (for the right reasons) ‘looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you’ he never knew that's his type. sometimes and really only some rare times he wonders if you're not as innocent as he thinks you are, getting rock hard at the thought of it, dick twitching multiple times imagining you saying and doing things that an angel like you shouldn't be.

for the rest of the ride he manages to lull you back to your sweet candy mode, making you laugh at his lame pick up lines, and occasionally tickling your sides. head falling back into his shoulder in cute giggles and hips rolling on him, damn only he knows how bad he's holding back. as shameless as he is he'd probably jump your bones right infront of everyone to see. thankfully you bring the decency in your relationship.

when your stop comes, he intertwines his fingers you as you walk out the compartment, just in case you decide to give the dude a slap before leaving.

“'m gonna flatten out all your abs today, you'll need to gym again,” jake chuckles, feeling you roll over his body like mei’s lint roller as he lays on your favorite fluffy kuromi rug typing away on his laptop an essay deadlined for tomorrow. the weight of your body on and off and the touch of your hot skin he feels funsies,“you do this all the time, candy and my abs have never left. how can i let them? knowing how much you love it,” reaching behind to hold you still on his back. you are glad he can't see the way your cheeks warm up at that, a bashful look on your face remembering all the times he's caught you ogling at his body.

“why are you sulking?” he asks when you don't respond with a whine like you usually do. aware that you behave this way either when you’re over the top bathing in happiness or dissatisfied with something.

“’m gonna gain weight now because of you, i’ll see all the snacks and sweets in the pantry and not be able to resist binge eating,” you lightly punch at the curve of his shoulders, dropping your head into the crook of his neck in a pout. jake turns around swiftly to hold you in a hug, wanting nothing more than to cheer you up,“i love your belly anyhow, whether it’s visible or not,” giving the plump flesh of your stomach a zephyr-like pinch. you wince playfully drawing back inches to tease him only to drop down into his arms to hug him back seconds later,“yeah whatever,” his words make you feel butterflies, a turmoil of frenzy and fuzzy feelings, cheeks growing warm once again, and the warmth spreading all over your mind this time. why does he have to be so sweet to you?

you both stay like that for a while breathing slowly, and taking in the comfort of a hug, the room saturated with a restful and serene silence. you’re the first to pull away,“you should finish that essay, i have to prepare for my test next week,” jake groans at the loss of your touch, wailing out with his hands as you leave the room.

”i’m joining you as soon as i finish this!”

four days later on the weekend, you sit on the couch alone, wrapped in the thin lilac charmeuse blanket jake got for you (he said it the softness of it, reminded him of you.) waiting for your him to join you. eight in the morning with ‘tangled’ running on the tv, it's not something jake would ever want to do, but he gives in because you like it; bonus sometimes when you get a little sleepy, he grabs the chance to cuddle you as close as he can, leaving a few fluttering kisses on your temple and cheeks. he's grateful you never say anything about it and just let him be.

“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards jake as he walks out his room. his headset rests loosely around his neck, half naked, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and his black hair all dishevelled: looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. “yeah sure,” the rasp in his voice as he mumbles out softly gives away the fact that he probably stayed up all night again.

taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon, jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch, and extending it out for you to eat,“here you go, candy,” he does it quite often, infact he loves to feed you. seeing your cheeks full and your eyes sparkling makes him feel fond as much as it turns him on. picturing you the same way on your knees between his legs with his dick stuffed in your mouth. choking and gagging on him, tears dropping down your pretty eyes while you stare up at him with this same doe look. it'd be heaven. even more so if he would have to teach you how to do it right, further fueling the massive corruption kink he seems to have harboured after meeting you.

he passes you melon after you take the bite, sitting beside you with his legs crossed. eyes trained on the way you fill in more in your mouth than you can handle, face all round and full,”eat slowly,” he flicks at your forehead.

“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he adds a minute later, raising his brows subtly.

“well, first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your hook-ups i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you spit a seed at him. one that due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest. damn those muscles they get you feelings things you probably shouldn't be.

putting away the watermelon on your tea table, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off in a crackle of laughter,“this is public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”

“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.

“well that is exactly what you are!” you throw the closest cushion at his face. grinning with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.

“no don't do this me,”

“change the sheets then, it's your turn this week,” turning away from him, you fix your eyes on rapunzel climbing down the tower. trying to avoid the way he stares at you with betrayal, immediately scooting over to tickle you.

“you cheeky liar it's your turn,” his hands glossing over your ticklish areas.

“i love you,” in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, you shout. pushing against him to escape only to have your wrists pulled away, held together in a tight grasp and pinned above your head. “candy! i love you is not gonna get you out of chores come on i'll help you. we'll watch tangled later. together, i promise,” his laughter dies down with every word he utters, whispering out the last part as he becomes aware of the proximity between you two. so close you both think, breaths slowing down and heartbeats picking up the pace with each passing second.

“we're doing this okay?” jake whispers again, albeit, his tone a tad bit more heavy and bothered. an ambiguous daze clouding over, as if he is talking about something entirely different than just changing sheets. a twinge of lust bubbling inside. having you under him like this makes him realize just how desperately he wants you, and how bad his strength kink blooms for you. to have you whimpering and moaning, gaze all hazy as you let him do whatever he wants with you. damn he feels his dick twitch at that, gulping nervously hoping you wouldn't notice.

“you look like eugene,” you mumble out suddenly and jake feels his thirst rise off the roof, because the size difference between the characters? he wouldn't deny he thought of you the first time he saw the animation. wanting you have you in his arms the same way.

“then you must be my rapunzel,” you feel even more flustered if that's possible, your stomach twisting and twirling at his words until,”now come on we gotta keep the house clean for mother gothel,” jake let's his grip on you loosen, taking a moment to get off you.

“yunie!”

“i'll make you some sweet soy-glazed potatoes too later,” he voice drowns out as he enters you bedroom first.

“well i guess it's okay then,” you giggle following after him.

“candy that's not how you tuck in the corners,” jake scolds you for nth time, running after you to fix the edges you mess up deliberately time and again. “hey! candy! get down!” you make it a chaos for him, jumping onto the unmade bed and messing up the sheets all the way.

“oops,” there's a devilish grin on your face as jake pauses to watch you have your sugar rush episode.

“if you wanna wrestle again and end up under me, just say so,” he teases, inching closer and grabbing you by the waist. you both laugh again as if you weren't dripping with need for each other just moments ago. he picks you up and walks to the door putting you down by the sill,”i seriously need to get this done, you go and peel the potatoes for me,” you can't cook for the sake of god and letting you use knives is like a deathwish, jake can only hope peeling will keep you busy and safe enough to not end up with cuts anywhere.

the doorbell rings just as you step into the kitchen, walking back to the front in a sluggish sigh. feeling utter regret for answering the door, the instant you notice the figure outside. not wanting to reveal the presence to jake, you shut the door behind.

he peeps out your room at the sound of it, shrugging it off as nothing because you’ve done it lot many times: when your friends show up because you simply don’t want them to fall under his radar as prey.

you spare an indifferent glance at the way eunsang stands tall; hands folded with a cocky look on her rather gorgeous face. she's a beauty and you hate to admit that, a vibe so opposite of you it makes you insecure considering jake's hooked up with her more than a few times. “i’m here to see jake,” she states, tilting her head to point over at the closed door, all the sugary honeyed act she keeps up around him nowhere to be seen.

“and he doesn’t want to see you, didn’t he tell you it was the last time,” you counterattack, folding your arms and straightening up to look intimidating. your stare is one of taunt, carrying a gaze of boredom in hopes to establish that you're one to reckon with.

“are you jake? i said i want to talk to jake not you,” her heels click in impatience and underlying disgust in the tone she uses with you gets on your nerves.

you close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the annoyance in you before it turns into anger, tongue poking at the side of your cheek, “and are you deaf? i said he does not want to talk to you,” assert dominance, assert dominance you repeat over and over in your head.

but what she says next makes you lose your temper.

jake, the very epicenter of it all, on the other hand has no idea of what's going on outside until there's a scream that sounds too much like you, one turning into many more. it's frantic and inhumane, the speed at which he runs out. dropping everything and anything. there in broad daylight he finds you and eunsang trying to rip each other's hair out in the thankfully empty hallway. he doesn't know if he should be worried more about your scalp hurting or your throat tearing from how loudly you scream over eunsang. his hands flail as he contemplates on breaking the fight or letting you calm down, which you probably won't as he knows. he grabs onto eunsang's hands on your head trying to loosen her grip on your hair, concerned over the pain you must be feeling while you're there now trying to kick her between her legs. she's shocked to say the least, watching him latch you off her in a swift motion and throw you over his shoulder. he takes you back inside quickly, groaning at your fists pounding against his back in a protest,”fucking let go of me! i’m gonna give her a good piece of my mind!”

“candy language!” putting you down by the kitchen softly, he grasps the side of your arms and forces you to look into his eyes,“stop fighting all the time, stay here i’ll talk to her, okay?” he speaks slowly as an attempt to calm you. when you wiggle off in a scornful shrug, he asks again, this time moving to cup your face, a tender look in his eyes,“okay?” you nod in a defeated sigh and he's out the door before you can say anything else. you're upset, really upset, you know what you did outside was not decent yet you can't get over the fact that he left you in here to go back to talk to her. he was on your tail last week trying to beg you to help him get rid of her and even shooed her out the unit harshly, what more is there to talk about?

truth to be told, this was how he first met you, or should he say saw you. it was the move in day, he had all the necessities for the week packed in a travel suitcase, with the other stuff to be brought in later on. he was waiting for the elevator in the lobby, more tense and anxious than ever to meet the girl he was going to be living with a good four years of his college life. hoping she'd not treat him like some stranger, or be someone impossible to get close to hash live with. along with little bits of curiosity and hopes again, that she'd be a pretty and sweet girl maybe someone help could form some kind of benefits with.

however never in a million years did he ever expect it to be the cute yet fierce girl in the elevator. to say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement, he was literally blown off his feet, scared or impressed, his confusion was massive. when the doors of the elevator had opened he had found you slapping a middle aged man,”fun? you think groping my butt ‘s fun, you sicko,” kicking him in the balls next. hard. jake had gulped at that, hard. heart on a pause. the look of feigned innocence on your face as you did all that. damn jake swears it was that moment he fell. maybe not romantically but you definitely got his dick hard.

you looked super cute, and you knew how to fight, jake thought he hit the jackpot when you turned out to be his roommate. pretty you were, definitely, and sweet wasn't even a question; you were sweet to him and you are a lot of sweet. the only thing that remains a mystery till now is if you'd taste as sweet. jake hopes he can find that out.

he returns a few minutes later, lips pursed in a small smile as he shuts the front door. it grows even wider when his eyes find you,“so your soy glazed potatoes,” he chuckles walking over to the kitchen and getting other things out.

“she called me a slut for living with a guy like you and i was in the midst of giving her a lecture on actually how good of a person you are-” you bang on the counter with a thud and turn around to face him,“and you dragged me in!” whinning in a pout that looked as upset as your furrowed brows.

jake glances over in amusement, halting to give you another grin as he boops your nose gently,“my darling candy, i’m only good to you,” the glare you throw his way only makes him snicker with adoration. the little flicker of bashfulness you feel making you break out in a smile which (thankfully, for you) jake doesn't notice.

“whatever, i’m gonna take a long shower. do not disturb me!” you leave in a rush afraid if you stay too long he'd see it all on your face.

ten minutes later, as you tiptoe to get your favorite shower gel from the shelf above the mirror, luck decides to remind you why you shouldn't ever stay away from jake sim. feet slipping on the wet floor, body colliding against the cold tiles in a thud loud enough to have jake come running.

“candy, you're okay? what happened? should i open the door? ‘m coming in,” his voice is laced with worry, snapping open the door to find you laying flat down, though to his relief not unconscious. he picks you carefully, bringing you to your room and seating you on the edge of the bed to check for any injuries. hands delicately caressing all over and asking if it hurts any where,”you're so clumsy, always getting me worried like shit,”

“language,” you giggle, trying to make him laugh and it works.

“sorry, just please be careful, okay?” his fingers brush back your hair as you give him a small nod,“do you feel pain anywhere?” another nod, and this one ticks his alarms.

“where!” your fingers reach out to press against the brooding crease between his brows, attempting to remove the frown from his face. and jake melts at that, feeling his heart flutter at your cuteness, god he loves this side of you so much.

“you little demon, look what happens if you don't shower with me,” laughing out together, oh how he wishes it were like this forever. and jake sim has never thought of a forever ever before.

a month passes by in the blink of an eye, your routines and relationship staying the same as always, classes, his soccer practice and your weekly cleaning day. but what seems to have changed is his routine of bringing over girls, the number alarmingly cutting down day by day (which currently sits at zero) and what you haven’t noticed- his display of affection towards you growing more and more. yet you think nothing special of it, assuming that perhaps now he got a grip over himself. which is partially true. jake thought of you as deserving someone better, so it was only right that he became better. and what better way than to start with quitting the position of campus’ resident fuckboy.

after an all nighter the previous day, coming back from your classes you get straight to bed. changing you clothes and getting tucked under the blanket from around eight in the evening. jake returns from his soccer practice later, unaware of the fact that you're already passed out. opening your door to let you know of his night out plans,“candy, i’m gonna go out with jay and sunghoon! make sure to have your dinne- oh you were sleeping? i didn’t know i’m so sorry candy,” he mumbles out in a soft whisper towards the end, supressing a smile watching your sleepy figure under the covers. trying to rub out the drowsiness from your eyes; heavy blinking and a small pout, his cute girl.

“it’s okay no need to get up, go back to sleep, i’ll be back in the morning,” approaching the bed as you lay back down, he pats your head in a 'sleep well’ before leaving.

it's probably past midnight when you wake up to constant ringing of calls. fumbling around for your phone in a daze only to find a dozen calls from an unknown number and a bunch of texts from the same. it's jay, asking you to get jake from the bar they're at. saying the guy's refusing to go back with anyone that's not you: whining for your presence and making it hard for his two friends.

'where is my candy?’ jay and sunghoon are sick and tired of hearing it all night.

by the time you get him back to the apartment, it's three and your bones hurt from the weight of his body leaning all over you. it doesn't help that all he does is giggle and throw himself over you. there's been a lot of times you have seen him drunk, probably more than a dozen, but he's never looked as wasted as today. sunghoon told you it's because he drank way more than usual, and unbeknownst to you that you are the sole reason, you wonder of the things that plague his mind to the extent of drinking so much.

dragging him into his room you have him sit on his bed, going through his closet and getting him a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt you can grab. “come on yunie, get changed,” you hand him the clothes, turning away when he takes everything off nonchalantly. even though he likely would rather want you to look, from the many times he's said it before ‘why’re you looking away, candy it's all for you,’ his exact words. the bane of your existence.

after he's changed, you wipe the sweat off his body with a wet towel as much as you can. giving him a glass of water before leaving for your room when he grabs your wrist and stops you with his puppy eyes.

in the morning, around noon jake is the first one to wake up and having no memory of the previous night besides the fact that he was drunk. he sits at his desk chair, hands in his hair, watching you sleep on the other side of his bed, clad in his shirt. it’s like he feels everything is over and done from here. he did what he swore never to do, this was the very first thing he pinned on his mind as an important note: not using you even if he has very obvious feelings for you. he tugs on his hair in frustration, angry at himself for not staying in his lane when drunk. with his head hung in guilt, he doesn't notice you stirring awake, sitting up at the sight of his hunched figure.

“yun? are you okay? is the hangover severe? should i make you something for it?” startled at your soft voice, he flinches visibly. a thousand scenarios running through his mind and not one ends up good.

“you don’t even know any hangover recipes,” jake mumbles almost inaudibly.

“i can just search on the internet and try my best, it’s not like i’ll give you anything inedible,” you teaee, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere you feel in the air.

it takes him a moment to speak again, sounding as miserable as he has never before,“candy i’m,” he halts, gulping to hold back the lump in his throat,“i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to, i don’t why i, it's all my fault,” he stops again, leaving you confused and dumbfounded,“what are you saying? what apology?” it is when his eyes shift to stare at what you’re clad in, staying there for a hard minute when you get a rough idea of what he could be thinking of. your cheeks grow hot at the realization, shaking your head when unholy images pop up in your subconscious.

but the butterflies fly away just as fast as they came as his words dawn uppn you. even if it didn’t happen the fact that he wouldn’t mean it, want it, regret it has something in you twisting in pain, are you so bad? or that he actually really thinks of you as his little sister? that you read his affections wrong, assumed his feelings differently? your heart breaks more than a little at that.

“why? is it because i’m not like the others you have been with? because i’m not like eunsang? or because i’m not her? the one you were smiling so hard after talking to? are you dating he-”

“that’s the problem! you’re not like her! you’re not like anyone i've known before! you’re special and i’m afraid i’ll lose you, things will change and just i’ll have to get over you without even getting a chance,” it's the first time he's ever raised his voice at you, and the first time ever he's sounded so desperate, weak and dejected. so vulnerable.

the split moment of sadness dissipates with every word that sinks in. the revelation of a(n after)drunk confession. the fact that you're a different kind of special to him, that he would want a chance to be with you, that he's afraid to lose you. you supres the urge to laugh when it all settles into your understanding. having a better grasp over the bigger picture. your steps are slow and calculated as you walk over to him, sitting across his lap and cupping his cheeks in a fleeting breath of courage. his eyes almost bulge out when you brush your lips lightly against his, mumbling softly,“nothing happened, but if you still want i can give you a chance, it’s going to be hard though tolerating me, think wisely,” you giggle and jake malfunctions for an instant before grabbing you in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“of course, of course i do want it, i’ve always wanted it,” chanting out in a trance.

“your lips tasted like watermelon,” he mutters out some time after, eyes locking with yours in an intense pull. still in a daze that out of all the bad things that could've happened it was none. literally none plus you perhaps wanting him just as much as he wants you.

“i had some in the morning before you woke up, anyhow yours taste like alcohol and your breath is horrible, go and freshen up,” you push at his shoulder, getting off him to leave the room to cook something. probably (as you said) a recipe searched up on the web, hopefully edible enough for a hungover person.

when he comes out later, all showered and back to the jake you know: the one who likes his hair slightly messy and almost never in a shirt. “why were- are you wearing my shirt then?”

“you practically begged me to last night while sobbing for i don’t know what reason,” he's a bit flustered at that, but hey, it's what got him here, you gotta do what you gotta do.

“candy, you wanna go out tonight? jay and sunghoon wanted to hang out but i don't wanna leave you so i said i’d bring you along,” jake asks, knocking at your door.

it takes you a little over a minute to open up but jake's does not mind it at all for obvious reasons, his jaw comically falling to the floor when you walk out in your tiny little blue sundress and the shade of lipgloss he was dying to see you in. you're unreal.

“yes! i heard you on call earlier,”

“oh my god candy, gimme a princess twirl,” the amount of desire he feels for you right now is unfathomable. biting his lips at the sight of your lace panties underneath that faintly flash him in the mini twirl you do. can you get any hotter?

“just fifteen minutes and i'll be ready,” he got ten minutes to do something about the boner he just popped, and it's more than enough to have him rub one out with what he just saw. maybe add a little hint of imagination and wondering what you'd sound like if he were to touch you down there. especially given the fact that the likelihood of it happening were through the roof now. you almost kissed last week, anything could happen at this point. and jake's dick gets impossibly sensitive at the odds of it.

at the restaurant, jay and sunghoon sit in an awkward silence, watching you both be all over each other. when they agreed for jake to bring his girl along, they didn't expect it to be so bad.

“um jake talks a lot about you,” sunghoon says trying to start a conversation that he knows probably wouldn't go anywhere.

“he does? that's so sweet,” you smile, giggling over something jake whispers in your ear, his hand palming over the plush of your exposed thighs,”what do you wanna eat?” sunghoon nerves feel boiled at the way jake completely skips over his attempt to talk to you. while jay sips at wine, agonizingly slow knowing this is how it's gonna be from now on. their friend is a changed man.

“i have this picture of jake from middle school, you'd love to see it i promise,” a little tipsy, sunghoon's persistence to put himself in the equation albeit admirable, annoys the fuck out of jake, scowling at the other well of aware of the so called picture he wants to share.

“jay man, take care of him. candy and i are going home,” jake gives them a tight lipped smile, holding your rather drunk self (it's just wine you had said)

“see you later ca- y/n,” at first jay leans in for a friendly hug but— nevermind. the way jake stares at him is scarily weird.

jake makes sure to have you sit on the couch before he leaves to get you water but you're sprawled out on the floor when he comes back. mumbling something about how cool the tiles feel against your skin,”come on you should drink some water,” jake pulls you up on your ass, sitting cross legged on the floor beside you. his hand softly holds the back of your head as he brings the glass to your mouth.

“alright say, what did you wanna say?”

“i wanna kiss you,” if jake thinks the pout on your lips is the cutest thing ever then the words you say must have to be the hottest thing ever. how can a simple word like kiss make his heart flutter so bad? and it's not even lust at this point.

he fulfils your wish without a thought, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. sucking on your bottom lip a second long before he pulls away and boops your nose. no tongue and no other intentions. the after taste of your gloss lingering in his mouth.

“let me tell you a secret,” you whisper out, moving over to his lap, knees on the floor each side.

“i knew you stole my kuromi panties,” he's shocked you know about it, he made sure to be extra careful with it, though his nasty ass was internally hoping you'd catch him.

“mhm, i do have it with me but it's not really wearable now,” he did not see this becoming something sexual but the moment you brought up the panties, you might as well have brought up his dick. man practically re-lived every single time he used it to jerk off, all those orgasms coming to life at once.

“you need to punished!” you whine,

“what do you wanna do?” and jake feels his dick get harder at that.

“can we kiss again?” oh my god, you make him feel so fuzzy and horny at the same time, it's unbelievable. in the guide of jake sim: to make him horny is relatively easy, to get him all fuzzy is once in a lifetime and to get him both at the same time is impossible. yet you do it so effortlessly.

jake answers you with his lips against yours again, relishing in the feeling of them on his own. all those times he wondered of how it'd feel like to kiss you seemed so lame now that he actually did. no imagination could ever come close to way he feels right now. his hand comes up to cup the side of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls away for a moment,”i wanna love you so much and take you on cute little dates and buy you all the food you want and fuck you so hard you only remember my name,”he mumbles against your lips in a bit whisper, letting you take a breath before he dives right back in. this time he lets his tongue slide in, rubbing against your own for a short while only to pull back and go for another trying to keep your lips pressed together for as long as he could. finally pulling away when he feels you push against him a little too roughly, a crawl of shudders all over his skin at the roll of your hips against his bulge.

“wan’ you to fuck me too,” you whine, this time desperately.

“fuck candy, you're drunk we shouldn't be doing this,” he reminds, failing miserably to hold himself back. his hands keep twitching to just grab your hips and grind you down on his dick until you're both cumming together.

“i’m not, i swear. i just drank a little because i couldn't have done this all sober,” even through the layers of clothes, jake can feel your neediness dropping with the way you roll your hips harder against him. speeding up when you think he's pushing you away, but he's just grabbing you closer by the waist. he can't deny how wanted he feels right now, feeling like he'd explode any second. the fuck were you so horny for him?

“are you sure this is okay?” he asks again. no matter how bad he's dying to fuck you, he'll never do it if you don't to.

“‘s okay, please yunie,” you feel his hands slide along your thighs and in between your legs. fingers faintly brushing over the wet patch on your panties in a sharp inhale. he grazes two fingers against your clit, testing the waters. rubbing harder when he feels your breathing pick up it's pace, switching to spank your clit impossibly fast having lost control at the sound of your wanton whimpers.

“don’t move and take it baby,” jake growls, pushing you flush against his chest, making your back arch more and more into him. tits bouncing right up in his face as he bends down to nibble as the exposed skin between them.

he stops for a moment only to push your panties to the side and touch you raw. rubbing rougher and so intense, your legs feel number from pleasure,”has anyone touched you like before?” his jaw clenches hard, eyes dark with want as they remain fixated at the sight of his hands on your pussy. fuck he finally knows what touching you feels like.

“ngh— no, fuck!” and it boosts jake's ego through the roof, he doesn't think he's ever felt as horny as he feels right now. the thought of being the first to touch you in your princess parts, the first you have seen you putty like this, the first to be the one to get you like this. fuck, fuck, fuck! he feels so turned on it's literally inhumane. precum oozing out his tip with every twitch of his dick.

“mm, gonna put my fingers in you,” you feel one of jake's fingers press into you, sliding inside easily with how dripping wet you are. the pornographic moan you let out when he slowly slips in another and curves up has his dick twitch so damn hard he thinks he just came untouched. you sound so cute yet so fucking hot, his mind is in a spiral of everything he wants to do to have you moan like that again and again until you're so drunk on pleasure, you only want him all the time.

“shit you're so tight and warm, can't imagine how good you'd feel around my cock,” his eyes keenly hooked on the way you raise your hips to meet the thrusts halfway,”y-yun, ‘s feels too g-good ah,”

“fuck you're so hot and so perfect for me,” his words travel straight to your core having you clench tight around his fingers and all of a sudden you find your oragasm hitting you as violently as jake continues to run you through it, fast and painfully pleasurable. enamoured and obsessed with the way your doe eyes struggle to stay open, mouth parting in a loud whine, back arching and hips shooting up. god you're a piece of art and jake doesn't think he's ever gonna want anyone other than you.

he immediately stands up with you in his arms, walking over to the kitchen counter and placing you gently on the cold marble. his fingers run through your hair in a soft caress, tucking in the messy strands behind your ears,”you sure you want this? we can stop here if you want. just say the word and i’ll stop,”

“wan’ yun to be my first,” you whimper wearily, jake feels his heart skip a couple of beats. your first, he wants to be your last too and you to be his last.

”gonna make you cum so much harder on my cock,” he places his hands on your thighs in a tight grip and forces them apart fervently. he so damn wants to eat you out but he also wants to feel you cum around his cock, it's a hard choice to make but his cock feels so angry and heavy slick from all the precum he shot out each time you whimpered or moaned or whined, if he'd wait to get his dick wet he'd probably actually come untouched from your sounds and reactions alone. and only god knows(jay too oops) how bad jake sim wants the first time he cums with you to be deep inside you. so much so that he might develop a kink of getting you knocked up (nope you're too young for that!)

he takes his pants off in a snap, practically ripping his boxers along with it, grabbing his rock hard dick, throbbing and red at the tip and trusting into his fist a couple of times. breathing heavy at the way you watch him with your lips between your teeth. he wonders how good it'd feel to watch you touch yourself while he does the same, cumming together with your eyes locked. but he probably doesn't have that kind of self control to just watch you touch yourself, when he can do it himself?

he taps his tip against your clit for a hot minute sliding it along your folds in a strained groan. you're so embarrassing wet, it's like jake could shove himself inside immediately and your you'd hardly feel pain for a while. however, holding back his desires, he pushes into you slowly, holding your body close and stroking your back soothingly,”let me know when i can move,” a tender kiss at your forehead, trying to make sure you know you have the say it in.

jake groans as you give him the go seconds later,”mhmmm candy⁠— baby,” moaning soft and lustful as he pulls out till the tip and thrusts all the way in. your insides feel so warm and gummy, walls clenching around him crazy tight. he thinks he'll lose his mind and end up cumming embarrassingly fast like a teen getting pussy for the first time. the way he feels the pleasure throb in his veins so intense all over his body, it's almost numbing.

your hands loop around his neck, fingers scratching at his back as he pounds into you rough, his pace hard and fast pushing all his body weight against you.

“don't think i can ever get enough of you,”

the sight of the thin straps of your dress slipped to the sides, tits almost spilling out of the front gets jake going, fueling him to grab at you anywhere and everywhere his hands can possibly go,”tell me im dreaming fuckkk— i've wanted you for so long, can't count the number of times i've jerked off to the thought of having you like this, so pretty and dumb under me,” all those evenings when you roamed around the unit in the shortest shorts and the smallest crops, driving him mad shit insane, having to sneak off into the bathroom multiple times. fisting his cock hard, groaning and biting back his moans as he got off to the thought of you, while you sat all unaware and innocent on the other side of the wall.

he stops abruptly, pulling out in a frenzy and turning you around on your heels and pushing you by the back of your neck to lay against the cool granite. one hand going down to grab at your thigh and hook it up on the counter, drooling at the way your pussy glistens from the angle. he shoves his dick back in without a warning, feeling your ass collide against him harsh yet fervid.

you both pant in rasps when his cock hits a sensitive spot inside you. he shifts to angle himself just right to repeatedly brush against that spot and you mewl out loud at that, so loud your neighbours probably know what you're up to.

“fuck i can't stand not seeing your cute face,” jake bends over to grab you by your throat, pulling you up and flush against him, head resting back at his shoulders as he forces to look at him, fingers gripping your jaw softly,”eyes on me, okay baby?” grunting from deep within his chest, a wild grin on his face as he watches you get lost in ecstasy,”i’ll get you addicted to my cock,” just like how addicted he already is with your pussy and everything about you.

his other hand reaches up to tug the front of your dress down, groping up one of your tits, a silk touch to see your reaction. loving the way it's so obvious how sensitive you are there. mouth parting open with you in sensuous gasps as he twists your nipple harshly, rubbing the tip with his thumb. your walls clench a little too hard and your back arches off as you push your hips back into him, the tell tale signs of you getting close,”my baby's gonna cum for me?”

holding your jaw to have your eyes trained on him, he unexpectedly inserts his thumb in your mouth pressing against your wet tongue, your red swollen lips too tempting to resist,“fuck yes, show me how pretty you cum,” you mumble out a series of incoherent words in hazy chant.

the hand on your breast slips down to your lower abdomen pressing rashly against his bulge, feeling faint movement of his cock deep inside you. fuck you're so small and delicate. his hold on you tightening as his calloused fingers find your neglected bud, rolling it in quick, tight circles. it's so painful yet you feel so good, tears wailing down your cheeks as your orgasm crashes hard, overwhelming and violent, thighs trembling and pussy clenching uncontrollably. jake's continues to rub your clit, helping you ride out your high. eyes fluttering shut, and swallowing thickly at the sensation of you creaking over his sensitive length, cock throbbing impossibly hard.

jake refuses to stop even after you have come down,”one more candy, i know you can do one more for me,” hips hammering into you at full force, and lips finding yours in ragged breaths. and it dawns on you what exactly you have gotten yourself into when you feel the two of his fingers protruding at your entrance, trying to push in beside his cock,“if you try to close your legs i'm gonna punish you,” he warns making you whine into his mouth.

in a flash he turns your body to face his, quickly shoving his cock and fingers back into you. his other hand spanking the skin of your ass and kneading it a soft caress after. he eyes hypnotized at the view of you taking him in, a white ring of your cum adorning the base of his cock. he spits at your clit, once again toying with the engorged bud, pinching and flicking,”“gonna make you cum until you pass out, fuck i really wanna do that⁠—” your hand darts out to grip at jake's wrist, feeling too overwhelmed with hypersensitivity. wanting to shy away but the pleasure’s so good you can't bring yourself to push him away.

“but it's your first time,” jake mumbles between hoarse grunts.

before you can even realize it yourself your third orgasm courses through you vehemently. body jerking and twitching, almost falling over if not for jake's hold. jets of cum gushing out as you moan loud.

feeling you spill down his cock, all warm and tight, his brutal rhythm falters,”fuck- ‘m gonna cum,” eyes locking with yours as he thrusts once, twice and then stills, burying himself deep, streams of cum shooting out. hot spurt after spurt, swollen cock twitching against your walls. goosebumps all over, his legs quiver from how hard he came.

he stays quiet and motionless for a while, his arms wrapped around your shaking body. breathing in the scent of your shampoo, trying to calm his pounding heart and cock.

“you good candy? i’m sorry, i think i went a little rough on you,” you nuzzle into him in quiet,’its okay’ as he strokes your head, leaving fluttering kisses over your face. picking you up by the thighs he brings you to your bed, laying you down and gently pulling out. groaning at the way all your mixed cum oozes out, pretty little hole clenching around nothing.

exhausted, you let your mind drift, feeling the drowsiness kick in while jake bends between your legs with a wet towel. whining wearily, when his lips wrap around your nub in a suck, the wet sensation of his tongue against your clit like a shot of electricity,”sorry, baby just had to do that once,” he knew he didn't just call you candy for nothing and he was right. grining sheepishly as he wipes the rest of the cum off, cleaning you all up.

“you're nasty,” you manage to whisper out.

“only for you,” the touch of his body is hot and comforting, arms around your waist cuddling closely(and half naked).

“let's shower together in the morning, wanna eat you out so-”

“jake!”

“what? it's the truth!”

the following around four in the afternoon before jake has to leave for his soccer practice, you approach him on the couch, as always re-watching an episode of vincenzo. you haven't talked much about labels, but it's known to everyone that you're sorta together. more like jake is taken by you. his friends weren't too surprised to know about you both, it was obvious jake had the hots for you and from the little hangout at the restaurant they figured it all worked out for him.

“incoming, pocky!” you sit beside him with a banana flavored pocky stick between your teeth, leaning in teasingly.

“oh you want me so bad,” he plays along inch closer and biting it off in a snap, lips barely brushing against yours.

pulling you onto his lap with your back pressed into his chest, he locks you in place, chuckling at the way you attempt to escape. his fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you surrender in seconds, switching to watching the show absent-mindedly,”my parents wanted to meet you,” he drops the bomb, tracing random letters on your skin to distract of the fact that he just mention a meeting with parents.

“as my roommate, actually,” quickly adding the important point, fingers poking at your cheeks like jello.

“so suddenly though?” you think back on all the things you have ever done to him, for them to want to see you. perhaps they think of you as a snobby girl who’s indulging their son’s already unpleasant habits.

“they’ve actually been wanting to meet you for the past three months, i was putting it off but now summer break is starting next week and i have no more excuses to give,” hugging you, he rests his head on the curve of your neck, breathing in the smell of watermelon that surrounds you after you had basically devoured a whole at lunch. “if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, i’ll talk to them,” he assures, not wanting you to feel obligated to agree, or force yourself despite being uncomfortable.

“no it’s okay, we can go meet them. how long will the drive be?” fumbling with his red knuckles, your mind wanders off to when he fingered you, growing hot and embarrassed all of a sudden. hardly listening in on his answers.

when jake leaves for his soccer practice, you find time to complete the trivial chores around the house. watering the plants with a pout, missing jake more than ever. you have completely different majors and you are not in any clubs either to stay after classes. the only time you spend together being the one at the apartment which is also cut down by his frequent practice sessions, sometimes in the morning during weekends and normally most evenings on weekdays. it makes you ponder on whether you should try out for any club, after all these years doing something else besides studying. but you have no idea what you should consider, having no knowledge on which clubs you could be eligible to join.

it takes you two whole weeks and a bunch of outfit checks to find yourself on your way to meet jake's parents. feeling almost weird and exhilarating at how his parents and his older brother welcome you. treating you so well even though they recognize you as nothing more than just his college apartment roommate who helps fix his laptop and tolerates the boy knowing the kind of womanizer he is. appearing more as a meeting with in-laws when you jake and you are not even official yet, more so they have no idea of what's going between you two.

they try their best to make you feel at home. during the lunch as jake had told them beforehand, his mother had a few sweet dishes prepared for you, coddling you just as jake does back at your unit. they talk to you about casual things including your likes and dislikes, what major you are in, whether jake treats you well, if you have any complaints regarding his behavior. it doesn’t feel as awkward as you as thought it would and you didn't have to put on any act as you prepared yourself to do.

in the beginning of your roommate journey, his accent, his voice was the first thing to attract you but slowly as you explored his personality you came to like him for more than just what attracted you to him. now you as you spend time with people closest to him, you understand where he got it all from. the sweet person he is, which you never expected a fuckboy to be, you didn’t even have an ounce of hope that he’ll acknowledge your presence in the apartment when you got to know about his playing around conduct. yet he turned out to be the sweetest boy you’ve ever come around in your life ( and the nastiest perhaps, )

when you are sitting alone with his brother, while jake is away downstairs to bring you something sugary to eat, his brother takes it as a chance to share his thoughts,“you know until i heard him call you candy a while ago, i was under the impression that 'candy’,” he quotes it specially with a movement of his fingers,“is supposedly a cheerleader fling of his after i saw the contact name showing up when he got a call the last time he was here,” giving you a sly look as he catches sight of jake approaching,“turns out it’s you, i never knew he is the type to give such sweet, unique petnames,”

before you leave in the evening, jake makes sure to let them know that you’re toegther, and that he’s not playing around this time. he’s willing to give effort into it and change his usual ways of living, to be better for himself and as well as for you.

on your way there you had thought of a lot things, had a lot of assumptions and expectations. even prepared yourself to hear things that’ll stick to you not so positively. but what stays in your mind now is completely unexpected and opposite of what you had internally composed yourself for. it’s all you can think of in the car and after you’re back in the comfort of your familiar apartment.

cheerleader, not a bad idea—

“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.

“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.

“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of you is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.

“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.

“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.

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rafecameroninterlude · 1 month

Text

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: ❝the summer’s hot, and i’ve been waiting for you all this time.❞ — rafe finally comes back home from his two-month long family vacation, surprising you in the middle of the night.

warnings: established relationship, ward overhears you and rafe on the phone, dry humping, heavy petting, oral (f receiving), face sitting, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex

word count: 2.3k

a/n: it literally makes me so happy when i see the feedback you guys give me, especially when you show your support by reblogging or simply liking. i love and appreciate every single one of you <333 series masterlist

“you’re actually lying.” tears were already forming in your eyes as rafe spoke on the other line. “i wish i was, baby. we were supposed to fly back in this morning but some weather shit got in the way, so we’re kinda stuck here until they let us know when there’s another flight available.” you sighed, trying your best to keep your voice from shaking. “have you asked the airport people already?” there was a slight pause before rafe answered.

“they said it could be weeks since the hurricanes here get pretty crazy.” weeks?! you thought you could die right now. “i’m so mad my parents didn’t let me go.” the tears were falling now. you and rafe had never been apart for this long. with all the built up anticipation, you couldn’t help but get youreself excited and hopeful about seeing him today, just for all of it to come crashing down with a single phone call. “i wish you were here too, babe. i got you a bunch of stuff from the shopping centers here, i think you’ll love it.” you wanted to cry harder because of how sweet he was.

“aww, you didn’t have to do that for me, baby.” you cooed, your heart fluttering in your chest when you heard the smile in his voice. “at least you’re going on winter vacation with me.” you nodded, trying to stay as positive as you can. “that’s true. i can’t help but to think my parents are trying to torture me or something,” you laughed, “they heard the words ‘shared hotel room’ and freaked out.” rafe shook his head even though you couldn’t see him. “they did, right?” he glanced at the tv, the weather report still the same.

“yeah, but rightfully so i guess. could you imagine if we shared a room for two months?” you bit your lip at the idea. “it’s a good thing we didn’t tell them that we’d have a whole cabin to ourselves in december.” you shut your eyes for a moment, wishing so bad that you could speed up the time. “you need to come back to me already. i’m sad and horny.” rafe snorted at your words. “hey, at least we know we could have amazing phone sex.” before you could respond, you heard what sounded like ward in the background.

“come on, rafe. seriously man?” you gasped, shooting up from your bed. “rafe! i thought you were somehwere private!” your cheeks were on fire with how hard you were blushing right now. “tell ward i said hi.” rafe did as you asked, a muffled ‘hey, sweetheart.’ sounding on the other line. “wheezie and sarah there?” as if you could be anymore mortified right now. “nah, they went to a gift shop with rose.” thank, god. “well, i told lia that i’d go with her to the beach for a little, so i better start getting ready.” you put him on speaker, opening your drawer that had all your bikini’s in it.

“all right, i’m gonna let you go babe,” rafe sighed, “i’ll update you as soon as i find something out.” you chose a top, and grabbed a pair of jean shorts as you started changing. “okay. i’ll see you soon, love you.” you smiled when he kissed the mic. “i love you more, i’ll talk to you later.” you hung up, feeling slightly better after hearing his voice. it didn’t take you long to pack your beach tote, lia picking you up soon after.

you spent the rest of the day with your friend, both of you taking pictures and reading your books. “wanna stay the night at mine? i could really go for some pizza right now.” lia pouted as she pulled into your driveway. “i wish. i have to go to breakfast with my family tomorrow.” she put the car in park, looking at you apologetically. “oh, that’s right! it’s okay, hang tomorrow afterwards?” you grabbed your bag from the backseat. “for sure. i’ll call you when i get home.” she nodded, in which you waved. “hey! send me the pictures we took!” you shouted as she rode off.

“hey, guys,” you greeted your parents as you closed the front door behind you. they were curled up on the couch watching a movie. “hey!” your mom whispered, not wanting to wake your father who was resting his head on her lap. they always looked so cute together. “i’m gonna go shower. goodnight.” you walked past them, eagerly waiting to check your phone to see if you had any messages from rafe.

[2:32 PM] loml <3: still the same bs. i’ll try to call you again tonight

you gasped at the timestamp. that was hours ago. it was about ten o’clock now, and you were definitely feeling the effects of your activities today.

[10:02 PM] y/n: superrr sleepy rn, i’ll still answer if you call bb

you waited until the message delivered and quickly got in the shower. after washing your hair and rinsing yourself off, you changed into an oversized t-shirt and called it a night. you don’t know how long you’d been asleep for, but your eyes were fluttering open as you felt your bed dip beside you.

your heart dropped when you saw a dark figure looming over you, a loud gasp escaping your lips. before you could scream, a large hand covered your mouth. your eyes widening as you starting hitting the person against their chest. “baby, it’s me! it’s me!” you stopped as soon as you heard his voice, rafe’s hand slowly moving away from your face. “what the hell!” you whispered, immediately throwing your arms around him. “how are you here right now?” you reached over, turning on the small lamp on your nightstand.

the soft light barely did anything to illuminate the space, but your heart skipped a beat once you could make out his features. you stared at each other for a few moments before he took your lips into a searing kiss. “fuck, i missed you so much.” he leaned all his body weight on top of you, the feeling nearly bringing you to tears. “two months, rafe. never again.” you scolded him, letting him settle between your thighs. “my dad pulled some strings and we were able to come back today. just landed like an hour ago.” he could barely talk as he kissed you inbetween his words.

the reality of the situation made you stop, your body freezing underneath him. “what?” he looked at you confused. “my parents are here! how did you even get in?” you scrambled to get up, locking your door before you could get caught. when you turned around, rafe was laying flat on your mattress, a sliver of skin poking out from under his t-shirt. “my key. they were knocked out cold on the couch, so i just snuck up here.” he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes falling to your bare thighs. “you wearing anything underneath that?” you smiled before shaking your head and lifting up the hem of your shirt teasingly. “no.” rafe’s gaze darkened as he watched you straddle him.

“why?” his hands ran up your thighs, squeezing the flesh before they settled on your hips. you shrugged. “just wanted to be ready for you.” rafe could already feel his cock hardening with your words alone. “yeah?” he dragged your hips against his, your naked cunt rubbing against his shorts. “fuck,” you whimpered, letting your head fall to the side as you balanced yourself on your palms. “i missed hearing that. missed seeing you like this.” he took the shirt off of you, marveling at the sight of your bare figure on top of him.

“i want you to get yourself off on me,” rafe splayed a hand over your stomach, “wanna watch you move.” you grabbed his hand, placing his middle and ring fingers in your mouth, your hips grinding against him. “you’re so fucking perfect, ‘don’t know how i made it two months without you.” you moaned, sucking his digits while you started a steady rhythm. you knew you were overly sensitive because of how long it’d been without him here, but you couldn’t help the aftershocks that came with your clit rubbing against his hard on.

rafe groaned, knowing he wouldn’t last too long like this. while he spewed out the most filthy things you’ve ever heard, you sped up, desperate to reach the high you were so close to. rafe screwed his eyes shut, stopping you just before he could cum in his shorts. the sound of both of you trying to catch your breaths filtered throughout your room as you blinked down at him. “i was so close,” you pouted, clenching around nothing. “ride my face.” your eyes widened. “what?” rafe grabbed you by your waist, a yelp leaving your lips as he held you above his mouth.

you shuddered when you felt his breath fanning against the inside of your thighs. “are you su- fuck!” you cried when you felt his tongue where you ached for him the most. “oh my god, rafe,” he was quick to interwine his fingers with yours, holding you tightly so you couldn’t move away. this was new for both of you, but rafe was quickly realizing that watching you with your jaw slacked and greedily chasing his tongue with your hips was becoming his new favorite view.

he moaned against your soaked cunt, the slight vibration making your eyes roll back. “r-rafe!” your hips stuttered as you felt the sweet release of pure euphoria wash over you. rafe held you tighter against him, his tongue attacking your clit as you shook uncontrollably. two months of phone sex could never compare to the real thing, your breaths becoming labored as rafe laid you down. “i’m gonna fuck you senseless.” rafe kissed you, your wetness still on his lips as he did so. just as you pulled away, a knock sounded from your bedroom door.

“y/n, is everything okay honey?” your eyes widened as rafe took the opportunity to roll one of your nipples between his fingers, your face burying in his chest to muffle the moan that left your mouth. “i-i’m okay! just.. cramps!” rafe trailed sloppy kisses across your neck, smiling against your skin as you struggled to formulate a single sentence. “aw i hope you feel better, call me if you need anything, love.” you waited until her footsteps receeded down the hallway before you smacked rafe playfully. “you’re terrible!” you laughed.

he took off his shirt, his muscles on full display as he discarded his shorts. fuck, he was glorious. “yeah, but you love me.” you smiled as he slotted himself between your legs, shivering once you felt his cock sit between your folds. “i do love you.” rafe ran his fingers through your hair, caging you between his arms as he slid into you, a moan sounding from both your mouths. you stretched around him so deliciously, rafe’s head resting in the crook of your neck.

“is that my favorite body wash?” he looked up, pecking your jaw when you nodded. “something told me to use it tonight.” your eyes fluttered shut when rafe pulled out, pushing back into you as he hooked your thigh around his waist. “this is all i could think about over there,” he sighed, “i just wanted to feel this perfect pussy squeezing around me.” you mewled at his words, your nails digging into his shoulders. “did you think about me, baby?”

you nodded, your back arching into his chest. “fuck, yes. i missed having you on top of me, ‘missed taking your cock.” he groaned, lightly wrapping a hand around your neck as his pace sped up. rafe adjusted you so your head was resting on top of his arm as he kissed you roughly. his thrusts were unforgiving, soon the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in your room. with the way the head of his cock was stroking that soft spot inside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care if you were being too loud. you started meeting his thrusts, your clit meeting his pubic bone.

“you’re doing so fucking good for me.” he panted, his breath fanning your cheeks. you wrapped your arms around his neck, crying out into his skin. “don’t stop!” he covered your mouth, shushing you as he fucked into you relentlessly. “i got you, baby. ‘gonna fill up this pretty cunt with my cum.” you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you felt your second orgasm nearing. with a couple more thrusts, you found yourself falling over the edge, your climax hitting you in waves of pure ecstasy. “oh, fuck,” rafe’s jaw was clenched as he suppressed the groan that threatened to rip itself from his throat.

you reveled in the feeling of his seed spilling into you, his eyebrows knitting in pleasure as he continued to move sloppily. “fuck, i don’t think i ever came that hard before.” he removed his hand, allowing you to take a full breath. you sighed, curling into your boyfriend as he plopped down beside you. “i missed this the most.” he pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing shapes into your side. you smiled softly, draping an arm across his torso. “i could fall asleep like this..” rafe’s voice was hoarse, both of you yawning at the same time.

“me too,” you started, “i’m gonna go grab some water real quick, i’ll be right back.” he pulled you down for another kiss before letting you get up. you poked your head outside your door, slipping on a shirt and a pair of underwear before slipping out. you tiptoed down the stairs, walking into the kitchen where your mother sat with her laptop. “oh-” you smiled awkwardly, getting two water bottles out of the fridge. your mom looked up at you from her spot at the kitchen island.

“i take it that rafe is back from vacation? you’re lucky i left the volume up on the tv.”

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rafesslxt · 18 days

Text

Showerhead 2 | mattheo riddle

pt. 2 — you can find pt. 1 here

summary: after you and mattheo had some fun in the shower, you two can‘t stop thinking about each other and that night. But who gives in first to sin again after a little jealousy?

words: 5,1k

warnings: heavy dirty talk again, cursing, making out, dry humping, teasing, controlling, praising, bj, unprotected p in v, shower, swallowing, legilimency (mind reading),

note: you don‘t have to read part 1 for this part but have fun if you want to

— in the great hall —

After that night in the shower 2 weeks ago, I couldn‘t stop thinking about it. I dreamed about it in my sleep, daydreamed about it in class and lunch while Hermione talked about some book we needed to read to understand everything in potions.

I hated it but everytime we crossed paths, he winked at me and I couldn't help myself but start blushing. As soon as I saw his face, I saw it between my legs.

"Y/n? Are you even listening?" Hermione says and shakes me a litte at my shoulder. "What? Yeah yeah of course, I'm gonna read it." They all look at each other before their eyes are on me again. "We were actually talking about how Cormac seems to have quite interest in you." Harry then continues.

I start laughing loud, looking at them as If each of them has 3 heads." What the hell are you talking about?" "Told ya she's not listening.." Ron says, raising his eyebrows as he bites into his toast.

"I thought he‘s interested in Hermione?" I ask as my laughter calms down a bit. "Harry heard him talking about how he would - well.. do certain things to you." My amused face turns into a disgusting one as I hear what Ron says.

"Yeah and guess who‘s got an invention to Slughorn‘s dinner?" Hermione says with raised eyebrows.

Ron looks at her shoked. "What?? That prick got one and I didn‘t?"

"Oh god no.." a few days ago Harry, Hermione and myself got an invention to tonights Slughorn‘s dinner for his favorite students. ".. but wait, how do you know who‘s coming?" I ask her. "I just asked him after the last lesson of potions. It‘s Neville, Ginny, Blaise Zabini, Mattheo Riddle, Corma –" "Mattheo Riddle?" I ask her shocked, looking at her with wide eyes.

I would see him again? Like.. this close and with people around us? My mind is racing as Hermione answers. "Yeah well, you know he‘s really smart and good in potions." "And he has an interest in special students and Mattheo is.. well – special." Harry comments.

Ron snorts and talks with a full mouth. "Mh yeaw hiff fatha was "speschal".

Hermione rolls his eyes at his full mouth and looks at me again. "Why are you so suprised by his name?" she asks me a little suspicious. " oh uh- just suprised, i always thought Mattheo is uh - not interested in things like that."

"Why would chou think about wat Mattheo is-" "Ron just eat and shut up!" I snap at him making the other two widen their eyes a bit.

I collect my things and stand up from the table. "I‘m gonna go to.. god i don‘t know I‘m gonna go." I say, walking off before they can answer. Because it‘s the weekend I luckily don‘t have classes today. I don‘t think I could concentrate in one of them after the information I just got. God why him? Why me? Maybe I can say I feel sick.. no he would know. I can‘t back down.

I walk down a hall, not thinking where I am going and suddenly crash into something hard but not as hard as a wall. My book and writing stuff falls to the ground and I look up, staring right into the face of Mattheo.

My brain went blank in this monent. "What princess? Aren‘t you happy to see me?" he grins down at me before he gets down and picks up my stuff. "Hm I remember a similar moment, same position." He smiles even more when he sees my red cheeks and not talking mouth. As he gives me my stuff he presses his mouth to my ear and whispers "I‘m looking forward to tonight" And with that, he‘s gone.

I‘m so fucked.

— at the evening —

" Do you know what you‘re wearing?" I ask Hermione while I put on some makeup. I hear her sigh and she goes "yeah I have this one dress I really like. What about you?" I shake my head as I search for my lipliner. " Not really, but I have enough dresses so I‘ll find something." Hermione laughs at my comment as she pulls out her dress and changes into it.

After I‘m done with my makeup and hair, I walk over to my closet, looking for a nice dress.

"What about this one? It would fit perfectly for the occasion." She says as she pulls out a dress of mine. It is long and black, with cute little arms on it. "It‘s pretty but I want something.. else." As i go trough my clothes I think about Mattheo again and what would impress him. God I need to stop it.

"Well what are you looking for?" "Hmm something likeee.. this." It‘s perfect. It‘s short but not too short, i know it sits beautifully on me and.. it‘s green.

(imagine something like this but in some green tone and longer so it‘s more school approved)

Hermione raises her eyebrows and looks at me. "Are you sure? Isn‘t it a little too.. party?" I love her for how she always chose her words wisely and with a knowledge for not hurting and judging people. I know what she meant but she would never think about judging me. Even when I put my clothes on she wouldn‘t pick, she makes me feel great in them.

"Yeah, I‘m sure." I smile, putting it on. When I look into the mirror I smile even more, thinking about how Mattheo will react seeing me in it.

As the time comes we take our purses and walk outside our dorms, meeting Harry and Ron in the common room. "You both look great." Harry tells us like the gentlemen he is but Ron just scans me like a little hater and looks at me. "Isn‘t that a little too flashy?" "Ron!" Hermione hits him on the shoulder.

"Don‘t be mad at what you can‘t have Ronald." I say grinning and winking at him before I link my arm into Harry‘s with Hermione doing the same on his right side.

We walked through Hogwarts, towards the dinner and the closer we got the more my heart started beating as If I‘m running a marathon.

I open the door in front of us after taking one last deep breath and walk inside with my two friends.

Everyone was already there, seated perfectly. "Oh hello you three! I‘m so glad you made it. Please choose a seat and get comfortable." Professor Slughorn greets us. I always liked him, even tho many say he‘s a little weird sometimes but I think thats exactly what I do like about him.

As I walk towards an empty seat, I scan the table, looking at Mattheo when I found him but his eyes were already on my dress.

Quickly I look away, seeing that Cormacs eyes were on me too which made me gag a little.

But god Mattheo looks so good. He wears a simple white shirt with a black tie and black slacks. Damn what I would give to ride his thigh in these – "Y/n you‘re staring." Hermione whispers into my ear, making me realise i stared right at Mattheo, but to my suprise he‘s still looking, not breaking eye contact for a second.

I gulp and look away, feeling my cheeks getting warm. God I hate it so much what kind of affect he has on me. I can‘t be the only one..

Wait. I‘m a woman. I can definitely tease him and make him feel the same.

The dinner goes on, nothing special besides Ginny who came in crying. Definitely have to ask her with Hermione about that later in detail.

As desert comes I look around the table, meeting Cormacs eyes. He licks of some ice cream from his fingers and wiggles his eybrows at me. Oh god I think I‘m gonna throw up.

As soon as I can I look away to Mattheo who was giving Cormac one of his death stares. Interesting.

I don‘t really know why i think it‘s a good idea but i do think it is. So I lean back a little, presenting the low cut at the front of my chest. I see Mattheo‘s eyes flicker to my chest and so do Cormac‘s but Mattheo‘s eyes switch back really fast to Cormac and give him a second glare. Really interesting.

I smile triumphal and lean a bit forwards again, pressing my boobs together this time. Instantly I get a headache but a really intense one. I hiss in pain which makes Harry look at me worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I just got an really bad headache.“ i whisper back, wondering what it caused.

Soon the dinner was over and everyone thanked Slughorn for the invitation. "I‘ll stay and try to figure out what that missing memory of Slughorn‘s is." Harry whispers to us before staying behind.

My headache got a bit better but It still didn‘t go away. As we walked trough the door I said to Hermione and Ginny "You guys go to the common room, I‘ll follow. I just wanna get some advil from Miss Pomfrey.“ They nod and tell me that they will go into Ginny‘s room to talk more privately.

It‘s already late and a bit after curfew but Professor Slughorn told us he made sure we would get in no trouble If someone sees us.

I rub my head slighty, trying to ease the pain on my way but nothing helped.

Then, out if nowhere a hand slaps over my mouth and a arm wraps around me, pressing me against a body. I scream into the hand, trying to get myself free until I see who the hand and arm belongs to.

"You didn‘t think I would let you go off that easily in that little dress of yours huh?“ Mattheo breathes against my face as it was only a few inches away from mine.

He slowly takes his hand away from my mouth, letting me speak. "What do you mean?" I ask and try the innocent act but he doesn‘t buy it.

"Oh princess, princess, princess. You can‘t fool me. I know that you wore this excuse of an dress for me. Fuck and also in my house color's? That‘s no fucking coincidence."

I gulp at his words and the fact that he knows who I wore it for. There‘s not even a single chance for me to lie. "And what If I did wore it for someone else?" Only one way and that‘s to push his last buttons. Oh how I wanted to push that buttons until –

"Someone else, yeah? Then who was it for?" "Cormac." As soon as his name left my mouth I regretted it. I see his jaw clenching and his grin fading. "Cormac yeah? So you didn‘t thought about me the whole dinner?" I slowly shake my head no, not daring to move now.

"So you‘re wet for him right now? Not me?" "What? I‘m not–" but as soon as I move my legs I feel it too. Shit. When I only look up at him his grin comes back.

"Yeah that‘s what I thought.. so why don‘t we skip this bullshit and you come with me?" Before I can even answer him, he takes my hand and pulls me trough the corridors, towards the Slytherin common room. " Mattheo I can't-" "Shut up." he hisses and whispers something under his breath so the doors to his common room would open.

"Can't fucking believe you pulled such a show in front of that stupid dick." he growled quietly before we reach his dorm. I start smiling as I see he's getting mad at the fact that Cormac saw me in that dress. "T'fuck you smiling about huh?"

As we enter his room I notice that there is only one bed which makes me wonder. "Don't you have a roommate?" "No, I have my own room." I scoff at his answer and look around his room. It has a big bed beside the window of the room and a little nightstand beside it. On the other side of the room is a big couch and a armchair.

But before I could think about it any further, he pulls me into his lap, face towards his, after he sat down on the armchair. "You know, you could have just told me If you missed me princess. Didn't need to dress all up for me." He puts his hands on my hips, grabbing them tightly.

I roll my eyes at him and act as If I didn't already enjoy his touch. "Didn't miss you." I say, looking away from him. He chuckles and pulls my face back to his with his fingers on my chin. "Are you sure?" I only nod and look into his brown eyes. They look so dark without any light in the room, that they send even more shivers down my spine than usual.

"Is your head better? Still in any pain?" he asks me grinning. "Yeah they-" wait. I never told him about my headache. Or could he hear when I told Hermione and Ginny? Or when Harry asked me at dinner?

His hands slowly wander down to my tights were my dress slowly rose up and placed them there, squeezing my flesh lightly. I felt his breath on my neck, giving me goosebumps. "It's gotten better, right?" he asks again. His lips ghosted over my skin, making me bite my lip.

"How do you know?" I ask him in a whisper. "I know everything that goes through your pretty little mind baby."

I tried to figure out what he meant by that but I couldn't concentrate with his hands on my skin and his lips almost against my neck. I need him so much.

"What baby, can't concentrate? Too much for you already?" he coos and finally kisses my neck, nibbling on the skin between his lips.

I can't believe how easy he gets under my skin with his kisses and whispers, not even doing anything. " I know you dreamed about me these last two weeks, thought about me at every chance you got. In class, in the shower, wishing it was me who touched you." he groaned against my throat.

My eyebrows squeeze together at his words. " How would you know that?" "Did you never wonder why your head always hurted at the same times?" I gasp and pull my neck away from him. " Are you reading my mind?" my eyes go wide as he just smiles at me sheepishly. Oh my god, no. This can't be. He's not allowed to know all these private thoughts.

"You don't know how hard it was for me to stay away and wait until you would come back to me but you little minx didn't and after tonight.. I couldn't just let you slip away from me again."

"Y-you can't do that Mattheo. That's not allowed. These are my thoughts." "I know baby but I couldn't help myself after that night in the shower. You were like a dream coming true so submissive and responsive to me. Fuck I'm already getting hard just thinking about it. But you understand I didn't have a chance, right? I couldn't risk you thinking about someone else then me."

He slowly pulled my dress up, exposing my tights and underwear. "God are you for real? Did you plan this?" he groans as he sees my matching set, a dark green lingerie set.

He pulls me closer to him, looking deep into my eyes.

"Ride my thigh." he commands and puts his hands back on my hips. "What?" I ask, looking at him dumbfounded. " It's my thigh or nothing. I'm not helping you getting off this time." I look at him with my mouth hanging open in shock. How could he be so cruel?

"C'mon, ride it baby I know you thought about it at dinner." My cheeks got red as he mentioned that. He dips his head towards my neck again and starts covering it in wet kisses. "Don't test my patience, love." he whispers and tightens his grip on my hips, moving them slowly. I gasp at the sudden friction.

"Feels good, right?" I only nod, closing my eyes as I start to move my hips in circles against his thigh. I feel so dirty doing this but at the same time it feels so good to finally get the friction I needed the last weeks again.

I feel my clit rubbing against my underwear, making me whimper and move my hips faster. "Fuck, look at you. I thought you were desperate back in the shower but now you're just getting yourself off on my thigh like a dirty little whore." I moaned at his words combined with his kisses on my skin. His lips went lower, first towards my collarbones, then further down to my chest.

I feel one hand of him wander to my underwear and pushing it to the side so my bare pussy rubbed against the material of his pants. I whine at the feeling, my hands grabbing his broad shoulders. " Oh my god. I'm so close Mattheo." He laughs wickedly against my chest, pushing down my dress so it hangs at the middle of my body. His mouth wanders to my bra, unclasping it with one hand behind my back.

"You're so beautiful baby, never ever am I waiting two weeks again for that." he growls and starts massaging my boobs and playing with my sensitive nipples.

I arch my back, shivers run down my spine at his touch. The grinding get's more and more intense. "Feel this?" he asks as he takes my hand and puts it on his bulge. "It's just for you." I bite my lip and look down at my hand. It looks so painful that I start massaging it through his pants. He bucks his hips up into my touch, his breathing getting heavier.

While still riding his thigh, I open his pants and push them down together with his boxershorts. His already fully hard cock slaps against his stomach before I take him into my hand. I spread the pre-cum over his tip with my thumb and start moving my hand up and down. "Shit princess.." he hisses, thrusting his hips up into my hand.

"I'm so close Mattheo.." I whine as I almost start rutting my hips against him. "Come on my leg baby, do it." he groans, lips apart.

I let go of his cock for a moment to dig my nails into his shoulders for support as I press my throbbing clit harder against him. He takes his cock into his hand and jerks himself off as he watches me panting and moaning.

With a deep twisting feeling in my stomach I come all over his thigh, riding out my orgasm.

"So good for me, look at how much you came." he says and I look down at his pants, a big wet spot on them now. My legs still shake from my high and I look up at him again.

Mattheo's POV:

Fuck. I don't know what it is but I have a feeling that this girl is going to be the death of me. With hooded eyes she looks up at me and almost get's me to cum in my own hand just from her eyes looking into mine. She had such a chokehold on me, but I will never admit that to her.

I smile down at her before I speak "already fucked out again and I didn't even touched you." The same thing I told her two weeks ago after I've eaten her pussy and she came after 3 minutes.

"Fuck off." she mumbles and falls slightly against my chest. "As much as I enjoy this closeness baby.." I start, nodding towards my rock hard cock, laying against my stomach.

I push a strand of hair behind her ear and whisper into it. " Suck on it." Her eyes go wide and she looks down on me with those innocent eyes again. " Don't tell me you never sucked cock with those pretty lips." I say, looking at her plump lips, almost begging to be fucked.

She rolls her eyes at me again, making me want to choke her until she stops. " I have." Her answer makes my clench my jaw, wishing she would've just said she didn't.

I pushed her down in front of my legs. I grab a pillow from the couch beside us and put it under her knees, making her grin. " Don't tell me you suddenly care for me Matty?" Now I am the one who rolls his eyes.

I grab her pretty hair into a ponytail and push her towards my cock. She takes it into her hand and starts to lick off the pre-cum from my tip. A moment later she starts sucking on my tip, making me smile. I have a feeling this is going to be good.

I hiss as her wet lips and warm mouth take more of my cock into her mouth. I close my eyes and let my head hang backwards. " Come on y/n, show me what you got."

Suddenly she takes me all the way down her throat, my eyes almost bulging out of my head and my mouth falling open. "Oh fuck, yeah!" I groan, gritting my teeth together. I swear I could feel her smile around me.

She bobs her head up and down in a fast pace, making me moan and groan like a little bitch. Fuck, what is it with this girl?

I feel my tip hitting the back of her throat. " Oh Shit." I lift my head up to look down at her. Her eyes are teary and her hands support herself on my tights. I start grinning, wishing I could take a picture of her pretty mouth around me.

Her throat clenches around me so delicious I almost came. "Hmm baby, you know how to suck cock. Gonna give you that." I pant.

One of her hands go down to my balls, massaging them. " Oh - " I throw my head back again, feeling something in my lower stomach. My hips buck up and I hear her gag, only getting me closer to my high. "M' gonna cum down your throat and you'll swallow it, yeah?" I ask her, breathing heavy. It doesn't take me long to cum and fill her mouth. "Fuckkk.." I groan, pushing her down even harder so her nose touches my stomach.

"Swallow it. All of it." I slowly let go of her, but seeing her cough a little only fuels my desire. She opens her mouth after she swallows and shows me that she swallowed every single drop.

"That's a good girl. Now come on.. let's take a shower." I say grinning at her and helping her back up. "Mattheo I don't know If I can walk so far." she sighs as she stands on her still shaky legs.

I kiss the top of her head, something I never do but just feels right with her. " You don't have to. I have my own shower." I pick her up bridal style and carry her towards my bathroom."

Y/n's POV:

As he picks me up to carry me, I feel a few butterfly's in my stomach but I try to suppress them.

He let's me down when we stand under his shower. His clothes hit the floor. "Hot or cold?" he ask, putting his hand on the tap. "Hot." I say and watch his back. Last time I didn't noticed but he has big scars all over his back, some even on his chest. He must see my face cause he asks me "What's wrong?" I shake my head and try to smile.

"Nothing." I see it in his eyes that he doesn't buy my lie but doesn't push me either. As the warm water hits my skin, I sigh in relief. I let my hair get wet and wash off the makeup I had on. While I did so, Mattheo stands right behind me, his hands on my hips, scanning my face.

I open my eyes and see him looking. " What?" I ask grinning. " You're beautiful." I roll my eyes and look away again, trying to hide my blush. "You don't have to try to get into my pants. You already are." He turns me around and holds my face. " Hey.. I really mean it. And not just your body. Your face is prettier than the ones of angels." My eyes widen at his words, not expecting that kind of words from him.

He clears his throat and looks away for a moment himself. That's when I grab his face in both my hands and crash my lips into his. The kiss is hungry, more passionate and different than the last times. More tender.

One of his hands slide up and down my back, while the other lays on my hip. "You make me crazy, princess." he admits, mumbling against my lips. I smile into the kiss. "Don't go soft Mattheo." I say, teasing him.

He starts kissing my neck, but less soft and more aggressively now. "Remember who's in charge here baby. I would choose your words wisely." He lifts me up so I wrap my legs around his waist. "This time I wanna see your face when I fuck you."

He takes his cock into his hand and positions it at my entrance, teasing me with it. „Mattheo come on, fuck me.." i huff out frustrated. "Beg for it, wanna hear you beg again like the last time I fucked you." I roll my eyes at his ego, but still do as he tells me to. "Please, I'm already begging you to fuck me."

Ge grins down at me and slowly pushes inside me, holding eye contact the whole time. His lips part and his eyes get lazy. "Fuck, you feel just as good as the first time I fucked you stupid."

I want to bite back but only bite my lip as he starts thrusting in a fast and hard pace. "What was that? I'm going soft princess?" His grip on my hips gets tighter and he starts kissing my neck up and down. " N-no you're not.." I whimper, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back against the wall.

What was is that he had me under his control so much? Not even a single brain cell told me to not do as he says. I can't with this boy..

His lips work their way up to my ear and he whispers "I'm a man baby, a boy wouldn't fuck you like I do. " Goosebumps erupt over my body and again he's right. " Stop messing around in my head." I growl lightly, supressing a moan in my throat. "You're all mine. I don't give a shit about how you see that, cause I know your body screams for mine every night. And it will never get someone else's. Do you understand?"

He stops kissing my neck and looks at me while thrusting his hips against mine. A shiver run down my spine as I looked into his eyes, but this time not a good one. It was ice cold. I never saw him looking tat serious and cold. Possesive. "Do. You. Under. Stand." he asks me again, deep and hard thrust for every word.

"God yes, Mattheo. I understand!" I cry out as his fingers find their way towards my clit, rubbing it in circles. My nails leave marks all over his back, drawing a little blood.

He starts hissing but laughing at the same time at the pain. He's gonna be the death of me. "No, you're gonna be mine, princess. Do that again with your nails, turns me on." As I don't, he mumbles a quite "okay" and presses me harder against the shower wall, fucking me even deeper and more brutal. My nails find their way back inside his skin and I'm sure If we had been o the bed It would be broken by now.

"When are you gonna learn to not be a little brat, huh?" he asks, a smirk on his face. "I own you now, baby." I let out half a snort half a chuckle. " Do I own you then too?" I ask sarcastically. " You own every inch of me."

My face falls a little at his answer, not expecting it. Did he mean that?But as soon as my thoughts started, I forgot them as he starts to rub my clit even harder, but in a steady rhythm.

"Oh yeah look at that in pleasure twisting face, that's fucking it." he groans, his thrust becoming more erratic. One hand leaves my hip and wraps itself around my throat, squeezing it with the perfect amount of pressure. A broken scream leaves my lips with my eyes rolling back.

"Yeah scream so loud Cormac hears who‘s name you‘re moaning tonight." I press my lips together but he squeezes my throat tighter. My walls clench around him, making him lose his control, eyes rolling back a bit with a smile to it. "I love that pussy so much fuck.I bet he can't fuck you like I can, huh?"

This time my answer comes in a instant. " No- no he can't. I'm so close Mattheo, please." I moan as I feel this deep twisting feeling in my stomach. His lips meet mine, to my surprise. Unlike how he fucks, he kisses me soft and passionate. "Come around me baby.Please fucking come around me." he groans almost desperate.

And just like that I let go and let the feeling of my orgasm overflow me. "Hm shit.. can I come inside you baby?" Mattheo pants against my lips while he looks down between us. I just nod quickly, feeling him coming inside me a few seconds later. "Shit.." a whimper leaves his lips as he fills me up.

My stomach twists again at the sound so I look at him and scan his face for a moment. I think that's the hottest sound my ears ever came across. He looks fucked out too, his eyes heavy.

He slowly pulls out but still holds me. "You make me so addicted." he confesses to me, looking between my eyes and lips. I had to. " So you're going soft now again?" I tease him, out of breath.

He chuckles lowly which ends with me bent over every single surface in his room.

I don't know how long I can survive in that.

—

I just know ya‘ll hate and love me for posting this.. after weeks :) <3

There‘s gonna be a part 3, the final then. Hehe.

Taglist: @idk-simra @kindnessspreads @purplegardenwhispers @glittervame @oxi8 @lovelyygirl8 @yakosobaboba | thank you for supporting guys 🫶🏻

I created a Tag List Form if you‘re interested: Taglist Form

xoxo sarah <3

#slytherin boys #slytherin imagine #slytherin smut #harry potter imagine #sub mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut

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queenie-the-court-jester · 12 days

Text

break up with your boyfriend

Yandere trans!fem cheerleader x fem reader

It was so shittily made but I need to pump out more fics or else my blog will die. Thank you all for 1k followers though! I'll rewrite this in the future maybe

Tw: mentions of blackmailing, nsfw, slight breeding kink, batshit crazy girlfriend,not proofread, another oc mentioned!?🌺

💄Eva saccharine has been your girlfriend since she first started transitioning. You helped her style her hair, do her nails, pick her clothes, find good makeup, anything she needed to feel like the real her. So when freshman year rolled in, it came as no surprise to you she fit right in with the clique.

💐Ofcourse you had your fears she'd choose them over you but that wasn't the case, because she'd make you eat lunch with them and sit on her lap, not so subtly humping your ass while talking all about cheer practice

🛍️boys wanted to date her, girls wanted to be her. She just wanted you, to just be the two baddest bitches on the block. It didn't matter if you were just like her or the complete opposite, she gushed over you. Praising you for being her good girl, her sweet little princess, her obedient pocket pussy-

💄but at this current moment? She was busy bullying your insides, forcing her fat cock into your slippery hole as she held you steady by your waist. Biting and groaning everytime she'd feel you squeeze that certain spot on her dick

"fu-uuckkk.. baby cakes, 'yer squeezin' me so goood.. ah.. hah.. you wouldn't mind if I pumped a few babes into your tight cunny right? Wanna be my baby mama?"

💐that made you squeeze tighter, holding onto the bedsheets for dear life. She had you face down, ass up and damn near breaking your back with how hard she was going. Hearing the normally composed and playful eva turn into a drooling pussy-drunk mess had you feeling butterflies, just going plap play plap-

🛍️let's just say, by the end of it, you couldn't walk for days afterwards. But no amount of hickies and perfume would be able to scare away a rather persistent guy. He was on the football team, star quarterback, rich asshole. sam white. Eva hated his guts, he thinks he can just waltz in and steal her bitch? Not on her watch.

💄this little feud had been going on for a while, and more times than you could count you've been caught in the crossfire. Though it was kinda funny, seeing them screeching insults at eachother and bickering. Eva would sassily flick her blonde hair and grab you by the collar of your neck, Dragging you away while Sam hooted and hollered at your retreating form

💐you never questioned her morbid fascination with anything horror or paranormal related. She was just obsessed with regular girl things. wanting you to help her summon a demon once, but you aren't that stupid, making blood pacts with them could result in very unsavory ending's and you quite cherished your soul and body

🛍️Eva has more than one account on different social medias, pretending to be multiple different people and Stalking your posts. She'd slide into your dms and flirt, seeing if you'd really cheat on her. She's so happy when you instantly block the account, guess you'll survive not being sent to her basement for another week

💄she has the audacity to grab a frilly pink pen and make you wear clothes that purposely shows off what she wrote. In bright bold lettering, Eva's little cum dump ♡ . Maybe she'll let you bring a jacket, only if you beg her really hard with those big doe eyes she loves. She put a collar and leash on you too

💐don't try breaking up with her, she takes 'they go low, I go lower" to another level. Threatening to post pictures of you in rather compromising positions. When did she record all of this? Who knows. She won't refrain from spreading nasty rumors of you that just force you to come sobbing into her arms, if you try and get comfort from somebody else she won't hesitate to eliminate them. Don't you see? She's the final girl, and you're her love Interest

"I told you not to run pretty baby.. now look what you've done. I gotta fix your mess up~.."

moral of the story: be a loyal loving girlfriend and she'll spoil you rotten with her daddy's black card ♥️

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 10 months

Text

༉‧₊˚. 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

― pairing: sam winchester x plus size!reader

― summary: sam winchester was never comfortable with pda, but while on a hunt, sam is shaken with the harsh reality that he's needy, and the only person that can fix it was you.

― warnings: kissing, making out, dry humping, marking, teasing, needy sam winchester.

― wc: 1288

⋆ a/n: more old writing sigh, but i guess i can say i kind of like this one but i kinda didn't know a lot about sam's character when i wrote this because i was only in the earlier seasons then, but now since i've watched the show three times, i feel like i can say that i know his character like the back of my hand!

masterlist | AO3

You had no idea what was up with Sam that day, but he couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself. He wasn't usually a PDA type of person, opting to keep the kisses pg, meaning only cheek, temple, or forehead kisses. You had no problem with it, because if he wasn't comfortable with doing it out in the open or if he was afraid it would make him look unprofessional, you had no reason to try and push him to do anything he didn't want to.

When the affection happened in private, it just made it all the more special, both of your senses heightened and a lot more pleasurable when you two made love.

You never usually joined the brothers on hunts per Sam's request, only staying behind in the hotel room to offer some emotional support afterwards; but this time, you felt like going on an adventure. Dean was more than happy to humor you, but Sam was a bit more skeptical. He knew that you were your own person, that he truly had no say over what you did, so all the hunter asked was for you to stay close to him; easy enough, right?

At first it was a little difficult seeing how there were many places you three had to go, and it was giving Sam some anxiety, not only that, but he was feeling a type of way that he couldn't put his finger on. He thought it may have been is psychic abilities, but one touch from you and his skin lit on fire, he instantly knew that he was horny. When he got into your shared hotel bed together, his crotch pressed into you full rump, it took every bone in his body to not jump you right then and there, to keep his wondering hands placed tightly in yours.

You could sense something was off with your lovely boyfriend when you had gotten into the Impala, and instead of Sam sitting up front with his brother, he chose to sit in the back with you, one hand on your thigh. You found it a bit strange, but nonetheless welcomed the out of the blue affection. But you didn't welcome it when all of you split to go investigate different parts of an abandoned house, Sam hot on your heels.

As you were turned around, you felt Sam wrap his arms around your waist, his head buried in between your shoulder and your neck.

"Sam?" You questioned, the energy detecting device in your hand slowly lowering. He dragged his large hand down your fluffy stomach, resting it over the zipper of your pants. "Sammy?" You asked again, but this time your voice was higher pitched. He always acted this way when he was needy, but it was never out in the open like this, not when somebody could easily walk in and see your compromising decision.

"I just— I just want you so bad. . . I don't—" Sam rambled, pulling down the zipper of your fly. "You couldn't wait to do this?" You breathed, your head slightly tipping back. "Why did you think I picked the farthest room in the house?" Of course he lead you hear with an ulterior motive, why wouldn't he? He was smart, strategical, and you'd be lying if you said that you were tempted to give in.

"Sam, we can't, I'm sorry." Your hands fell over his sneaky one's, pulling your zipper back up and placing his hands back on your waist. He audibly groaned when you turned around threw your arms around his neck. His pupils were blown out, his expression was that of a kicked puppy. "Baby, you know that I want this as much as you do, I always will, but not in public." You sighed, pushing some of his hair out of his face. "I know. . . Can I— can I just kiss you?" He asked, his hands sliding lower before resting on the swell of your ass.

"Dean's gonna be real mad that we haven't got anything," You teased running your fingers through his hair, but you showed no hostility as his lips ghosted over yours. "It'll only be for a couple of minutes. . ." He mumbled, pressing his lips onto yours. It felt so great to kiss you, like your touch was slowly extinguishing the fire that had been burning in his stomach for the past two days. He couldn't help that his palms gripped your ass aggressively, rubbing you crotches together. You moaned quietly into his mouth, Sam hiking up your thigh so that he could get a better angle. His growing erection was pressed against your heated cunt, the friction driving both of you nuts.

"You said only kissing. . ." You breathed against his lips, arousal becoming more prominent in your panties. He only groaned in reply, his head tipping back so that his neck was exposed to you. You attached your lips onto is most sensitive spot located just under his ear, Sam bucking his hips against you. You were muting yourself by making marks that wouldn't easily be seen, but Sam was forced to bite his lower lip to silence himself. The worst part about doing this in not only a potentially haunted house, was that it was extremely empty, sound basically bouncing off the walls. You knew Dean would never allow Sam to live this down if he were to catch the two of you.

The tingling sensation of an orgasm was barely in your grasp, but it was enough to detach yourself from his neck and collarbones, only placing a kiss there which your lipstick left a mark.

"Sam, ____?" Dean called out. "You guys got anything?" Your eyes widened as you pushed Sam off of you, giving him a look of apology. "Uhh— no, there's nothing here!" You shouted back, licking your sleeve and wiping the makeup off his lips. "Alright well I explored all of downstairs and most of the upstairs and I got nothin', so I think we're done here." His voice was a bit closer, but now by a lot. "Okay! So are we gonna go?" You asked, straightening up Sam as he stood there with a stupid smile on his face. "Yeah! I'm goin' to be in the Impala, so you guys better hurry up!" He concluded, his voice growing fainter as he walked back down the stairs."Sam," You growled, "I'm going to kill you." You glared, now wiping off your lips for any smeared product.

"I'm sorry honey, I got a bit carried away." He apologized, but he didn't even sound remotely sorry. You just scoffed, grabbing your things with the intention of leaving. "Sure." He only laughed, following close next to you. "Don't act like you didn't like it," He teased. You only rolled your eyes, but it provoked a small grin on your lips. "Well I hope this'll sedate you until we get back home." You poked, both of you now walking down the old stairs. "Maybe, but seeing how your butt is looking in those jeans, I may be tempted to do it again." You groaned, "I'm going with Dean next time."

As you guys were about to get into the car, your eyes landed on your lipstick mark that you had placed on the side of Sam's neck. You felt your stomach fall into your ass but it was already too late, Sam had gotten into the front seat of the car while you got into the back anxiously. You watched Dean look at Sam's neck before smirking wolfishly, making eye contact with you in the rearview window.

"Looks like you guys got a lot of things done." He said, his voice full of amusement.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy

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frogchiro · 9 months

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Ok so about cow!reader and soap i wanted to get into bit more detail

Bull!Soap is mounting cow!reader all day because he could smell her hea was getting close he was following her around all day and kept messing with her until farmer!price had to step in and took reader away

Bull!Soap is so cheeky!! He has no shame at all and may seem like a bit of an airhead, more muscles than brains but he's stupidly brave and cunning in his own way, an example of this is when he managed to break through into your pasture one sunny day😭

How he did it no one really knows but all Soap cares about is finding you!! He could smell you from far away, your sweet scent tinged with a more heavy note-you were near your heat! A perfect time for him to finally get to you and breed you so that way Price won't take you away from him since you will be a mated pair with a baby, it's a genius plan!!

When he finally finds you he swears he hears angels singing; you're laid out like a meal on the soft grass, the sun giving your soft skin and fluffy coat an etheral glow as you lay calm and happy among tiny white flowers and only move when you hear Johnny call out to you and you moo softly back.

You shift a bit from your position and prop yourself up on your elbow as you watch the large bull approach you, his heady musky scent making your pussy clench and ache and you curse softly; Soap's your friend but your incoming heat is clouding your mind and the quick thought of being mounted by one of the strong bulls here on the farm comes and goes in the blink of an eye and leaves you flustered, your tail lashing behind you.

Soaps smirks at your form, much more twitchy and fidgety than before and from then on it's game on for him. For the rest of the day he'll be flexing and preening before you, showing off like crazy and scenting you even more, releasing as much of his musky scent as possible to push you over the edge and get you into heat, he's so so ready to mate :(( He'll be nuzzling against you insistently, desperately wanting you to present yourself and smell like him, draping himself over your back and trying to hump you, listening to your whines and soft moos as he tries to fit the tip of his cock inside your aching cunt but in his desperate state he always misses making his cock slide over your swollen lower lips and smearing his seed all over you.

By afternoon you basically won't be able to get him off of you, being on the brink of your heat clouding your head and almost sending Soap into an early rut but he still can't seem to get inside you :(( Your hole just seems too tight and slippery with slick making his cock slide over it and only just managing to hump you, your poor pussy and lower tummy covered with his seed but none of it inside you where he wants :((

Just when Soap was starting to get angry with impatience and desperation, his need to breed overtaking any rational thought he was suddenly pulled back roughly by his horns by and even angrier Price who was basically fuming. How the fuck did this even happen? How did Soap manage to get into your pasture in the first place?? But Price guessed it didn't really matter at that point, his main priority was getting you safely to your private pen/stable to get you safe and comfortable with your heat and send Soap back into his shared barn with the other bulls and punish him to hell and back. He'll have to do a pussy inspection on you now too to make sure Soap didn't stuff you full with his seed but that's more of a pleasure for John than a chore <3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #poor soap getting cockblocked by his own desperation and then price too😭#cod x reader #cod mw x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john price x reader

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

moment's silence

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 7 — The night I lost a bet. [“You know what this means, don’t you?”] [6.6k]

— Summary: Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him with the book. Had he rambled about you that much? It seemed impossible—to be fair, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet. Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

— A/n: Canon-divergence; Reader and Tess met Joel at the same time, and all three became a tight-knit unit. | 🏷️ Tags & warnings⚠️: explicit mature content, minors DNI; age gap, mentions of canon-typical violence, confessions, touch starved, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), slow & deep sex, but also rough sex?, dirty talk, little spoon Joel.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | read on ao3

All he can think about when he sees the bookshelf is your words, even if they were spoken on a whim years ago.

"There's no fucking way you can find a classic in good conditions anymore—not even Joel 'I can find anything' Miller is immune to decay and years of nature taking over. They're all gone, Joel. I just have to accept it. I bet there's not a single one that hasn't been wrecked by either people's ignorance or fucking mold eating every single page."

He remembered those words as clear as the day's first rays of light.

Not because of them, precisely. Because of what came after. He had blurted, "Bet what?" out of sheer instinct, only for you to reply with:

"Anything."

Maybe you were being metaphorical at the time, but Joel took it seriously. He outreached his hand for you to shake. "I'll take that bet."

If he never found a book, nothing would change.

If he won, on the other hand. Well—there's something Joel's been wanting from you for a long, long time.

That's why when he enters Bill's house for the first time, Joel stops dead in his tracks on the corridor leading to the kitchen.

You'd been to the house before with him and Tess.

Just like him, you had stood outside the whole time while Tess and Frank went about their rambles and deals. You, Joel, and Bill were all cut out from the same cloth—death stares etched onto your faces as if you were marble, grumbled conversation that came up here and there between long sips of wine.

Neither you nor Joel had been inside yet.

It's the third time he visits, first one without you, and he sees it—

Bookshelf.

One of Bill's doors is open on the way to the kitchen revealing what used to be an office but now looks more like a symbiosis of an atelier and library. It's — nice, Joel guesses.

It's not his thing.

Books — those are your thing.

Joel has no idea what connects you to the pages, but he knows it runs deeper than just academic pleasure, or snobbiness (an assumption made by many who met you).

It's as if whatever elements existed within paper, inked with words that strung together beautiful stories — it moved you.

Joel was entranced by the way you were able to quote several passages.

Few things remained that were worthy of admiration, or interest. He easily placed your small and precious book collection high above on his list.

That, and your ability to bring those stories to life somehow.

"Are you a reader?" Bill's voice is expected — Joel heard his steps approaching and stopping behind him when he did.

He scanned all the shelves, so he looks back to answer Bill. "Not really. Tess never mentioned who's the little Librarian between us? Our reader's absent today."

"If my, uh... —

If mine... if they brought strangers into our situation... I wouldn't be happy either."

"Oh. Well. They seem to listen to you as well as mine listens to me."

"I hope she feels better soon." Bill says the words and they sound so real. Spoken freely, not through gritted teeth or accompanied by his usual stiff shoulders.

Joel's hands rested on his hips. "Yeah." He hated this part — with Bill and Frank it was harder to not talk about things. He was pretty sure Bill didn't even like him, just like Joel didn't like him that much, but they saw each other. Understood one another. "Yeah, me too."

"The medicine you gave — it helped." That came out through gritted teeth. Joel held back from smiling at the unspoken admission—you sold me real shit. It's saving my partner. Thanks. "Frank's talking about — lavender. Herb garden and all. God."

Joel snickers and they exchange a look. "Good luck with that."

"I'll definitely need it." Bill's hands pat his sides, and Joel recognizes his motion before bolting out of a conversation. "Feel free to look at them," he waves a hand in direction of the shelf before leaving Joel there alone.

He does look.

One by one, Joel checks the titles because if you were here, that's what you'd do, and "when in doubt, always do what you must".

He hated that your words stuck to his brain so easily.

They were sticky like honey, which also resembled your voice. Or maybe that was only the way he heard it — Joel enjoyed listening to you talk.

"When in doubt, always do what you must" came after he left behind some supplies in order to help during a run, and you'd gotten mad at him for the first time.

It was then that Joel noticed how fucking tough you were.

Complete the mission. Help when you can. Do what you must.

If he was here already, he might as well read all the titles. Who knew how long he'd last? If he'd be here again, or if you would?

When his eyes land on Frankenstein, Joel knows he hit the jackpot.

That's when the memory of your bet sparks behind his eyelids, and he's cursed with the way you smiled that day.

Anything.

There was something Joel wanted, badly.

He cut out his own permission to want anything that strayed from finding Tommy again, getting clues to somehow discover a way to find his brother, get him back, but you planted the seed in his subconscious by simply existing — he was powerless to stop it.

One second, you and Tess walked into his life.

The next, he had on one side a best friend who cursed as much as him and on the other a menace who popped into his subconscious state, giving him dreams for the first time in years.

You two brought back a sense of humanity into his day-to-day life.

In return, Joel tried his best to do good for both of you.

Keep you safe however he could. Slip extra ration cards into your stack so you could more.

Small things like that — things that he later realized were only the seeds for the want that blossomed.

Joel wanted you out of the smuggling business.

He wanted you to be safe.

It was fucking ridiculous.

Your hand never missed the trigger timing — if there was anyone around the neighborhoods he lived more skilled in knives than you, he'd eat his own hand, and you were clever.

Quick, sharp, rational.

Despite all of that, he hated the sight of your back whenever a deal had them going outside.

Every time he saw a pistol or any other weapon in your hands, he wanted to throw it away as hard as he could.

And here he was, facing Frankenstein.

Anything.

Fuck. Joel hated how he hesitated.

If it belonged to anyone else, his hands would've already made the book meet the secret parts of his backpack, but he couldn't do this to contacts so good like Frank and Bill.

He couldn't fuck up this one.

Shit.

(Maybe he did like the two men, after all. Just a little.)

Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him the book.

One minute they're sitting alone drinking scotch while Tess and Frank finish up the trade and the next, they're talking about old hobbies they regretted not paying more attention to. Conversing like two normal people. Like Tess and Frank do, only without all the niceness and excitement.

At one point, Bill asks, "Did you see anything you liked?"

It takes a second for Joel to realize he's talking about the room and the shelf. Joel shakes his head. "Wasn't a big fan of readin'." A lie, he thinks. "Even that's a stretch. I — probably should've done it more now that I think about it."

Bill's answer is a hum. "Yeah. Lots of things I wish I should've done. Properly. Piano's one of them."

Joel eyes the item in the room. He recalls you and Tess talking about how Frank was lucky to know an instrument. "Frank's good at it, though?"

"He was rustier when he arrived, but yeah — he's doing good now."

Joel admires that. Some things are probably talent, he figures. "Practice's everything. 's why I feel bad for people whose thing was, like, artsy. Y'know?" He lists you and Frank as examples. "They ain't got means to do what they really love now."

That's when Bill shares that Frank paints. Piano and drawn, painted art — that was nice. Frank probably missed a lot of things.

If what you said was true and artists withered without their art like some plants did without sun or water, then he must be sad nowadays.

The new information sparks up a memory. The abandoned art supply on Canbose with 5th Street — was it possible there were some there?

Joel kept the doubts to himself so as to not spark any hopes of things he'd fail to deliver, but the real surprise is that he and Bill have their first conversation there.

It's a nice one.

Joel loathes that his brain comes up with the knowing looks both you and Tess would give him and Bill if either of you saw the way the two men can converse so easily once the guns are gone.

Bill's — he's okay.

Rough around the edges, sure, but in polished, sturdy ways.

He's also a little box of Pandora.

The last thing Joel could expect was being called aside by Bill before he leaves with Tess, only to find him hiding behind the door waiting for him with a furtive air in his stance, as if there could be any secrets that they'd keep from theirs.

Bill extends the copy of Frankenstein without meeting Joel's eyes. "Here." He all but shoves it into Joel's hands, and then nods. "It's the one you kept touching."

There's no reason to play bargain or pretend this is a gift he's too humble to accept.

He does as he's told, thanks Bill with a long nod, and walks out.

It does beat at his mind on the walk back to the QZ, though—had he rambled about you that much?

It seemed impossible—to be fair, he always managed to keep the conversation away from himself, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet.

Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTWO DAYS LATER

The smell of your apartment envelops him every time.

Everything's open.

You keep plants hung in several places on your wall, and they're all so tall and green. Big, imponent, and your habit of walking through the place and touching one of them, sometimes going as far as plucking a leaf or petal out of them—the air suddenly turned into myrrh, lavender, eucalyptus.

Joel wished he smelled nothing other than here.

"Heard you were feelin' better," Joel says as soon as he has eyes on you.

There's more color on your cheeks. When you smile, Joel sees it reach your eyes even if it remains small in your lips. "Still feel like shit, though."

Tongue sharp as ever, then.

He chuckles and walks in as you move aside in invitation, gaze checking through the apartment as he takes off his shoes.

Joel always pays attention to everything that surrounds you.

While you ask about the trades you missed, he takes note of the spotless state of everything around him. Stainless windows, shiny floor, a sharp citrus scent lingering even around you.

Stress cleaning — check.

"Did you finish the food I gave ya?"

"Of course," you answer. Joel's happy to hear that — you ate very little on the first day you got sick, and he gave you some of his food to make sure you ate.

The two of you take a sit in the kitchen, and as you talk about work, he analyzes you better.

You had your most comfortable clothes on. They came from a box he found not long ago that was your size exactly; the shirt has wet stains on your chest, and your wet hair tells him you felt good enough today for the first time in a while.

Good enough to gather the patience to wash your hair in the sink.

"Don't mind Inoctus, you know he says that shit about the Fireflies all the time. I ain't gonna argue with him again," Joel waves a hand, and then gets to the part he wanted to talk about. "Never mind him, though — did Tess tell you about what Bill and Frank found for us? What Frank fixed?"

"No, not yet."

Excellent. "We've got some good news. Oh — and before I forget. D'you think that art supply on Canbose still has some supplies left?"

"The one that intersects with the 5th?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I don't see why it wouldn't have," you shrug your shoulders. "It's close enough to the QZ for it not be completely raided and I don't see who would prioritize stealing art supplies in the middle of everything." It made sense to Joel, and he felt a rare sense of giddiness tingling. "Why?"

He leans back on the chair. "Frank's a painter."

"No way."

Joel grins — you understood him. "Yes, way."

"Fucking hell. Is there anything he doesn't do?"

He laughs. "I know. I felt the same way."

"He plays the piano, he should be obliged by law to stick to that cool thing."

Joel likes it when you're feeling a little petty — the scrunch on your nose is adorable. He wants to pinch it between his fingers, even if he never did. "Anyway..." He shares the other updates about the trip to their house without you, then talks about the people who contacted him — the ones that gave him any trouble are your expertise, and Joel loves the set on your brows when you're listening.

He has no idea how someone who looks so precious can have such a wicked mind.

"She looks so — I don't know. Not this ingenious. Mean. How the fuck does someone who's always hummin' songs under her breath can intimate grown-ass man?"

"You're the only fucker who thinks she looks like an angel, Joel."

"Nah, we both know that's a lie."

"No, you're just delusional. If anyone thinks she looks angelic you better bet they're comparing her to Lucifer."

Was he? Delusional.

Tess always made him feel like he was faced with a Truth Mirror whenever he opened his big mouth around her.

After a couple of hours, you've already cooked some things — with the little help he could offer — for the both of you, taken notes of the people you need to talk to.

Joel realizes that time passes only when you.

Outside of your presence, it's all a snowball. Stale.

"Ah, shit." You get up in a rush.

"What?"

"Almost lost the time for my pills again," you mutter under your breath.

"You really need a watch." From where he sits at your kitchen table he can see your profile — the roll of your eyes. He huffs in disbelief, ignoring the feeling of his mouth tugging in the corners.

After you take your med, you sit on the couch and find his gaze from across the room. "Clean the table for me?"

Joel never says no to you.

Not for lack of want — fucking god must know how many times he's craved saying it, enunciating each letter with gusto. No.

It never came out.

He cleans the table thinking about how much he's delaying it.

The book's inside his duffel bag that remained next to your door all this time, but it weighs on his back somehow.

He did more than just clean the table as he tried pushing down the little mean jabs his mind took at itself.

You can't force her to stay outta business.

She ain't never listened to a soul in her life—who are you to tell her what to do?

Once every while, you would venture into Joel's personal space and place a finger where his brows pinched together. The first time it happened, the effect had been immediate—Joel was so shocked by the act that his whole face relaxed; not his body, though. His body froze, and he had stood there in a perfect portrayal of a statue.

You do that when he sits on the couch.

Your presence is so damn familiar to him that even lost in his own mind, he finds his way through the maze. He sits by your side, leans back, and drops his head on the couch.

When he feels your finger touching his frown, Joel opens his eyes.

"What's bothering you?" Your finger leaves, and he misses it.

Joel turns his head to the side. "Nothin'." He likes the way the color's back to your cheeks. A week on anti-inflammatory meds made you a little gray, and nothing about you was dull.

"You're a shit liar," you say.

He scoffs. "No, I'm not."

"You really are, though," you argue, fighting a smile. "And just so you know, your accent gets thicker the harder you try."

At that, he frowns. "No, it doesn't—" and fuck, he hears it. How the fuck did you notice that? His frown deepens, and you chuckle at him. "You pay attention to the strangest fuckin' things." It's said in the same gruff way he says most things, but there's enough admiration underneath it that you hear it for what it is.

"And thank god for that — it's what's kept me alive. Us alive," you snort, giving yourself the credit you're due for once.

In the end, he blurts it out. "I found it."

"Found what?" you ask, truly confused at the abrupt change.

"Something you told me I couldn't."

"That's... oddly vague," you reply. "I name a lot of things you can't find. You seem to think you have superpowers."

"No powers. Just talent." He shrugs, and gets up to retrieve the book. "What's the one thing you told me there was 'no fucking way' I could find?"

The second it takes for your brain to connect the dots is the time Joel needs to find the copy in his bag.

Joel sees your eyes dropping to it when he turns around. Widening. Freezing that way. Your lips parting only a couple of inches as your jaw slowly drops.

He sits with more satisfaction on your couch than he's sat anywhere in a long time.

The book falls with a soft thud between your bodies.

All the space he puts between you two is replaced by it —

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asks.

When you look up, Joel's caught off guard.

The moisture in your eyes shines under the light coming from your kitchen. Joel's throat becomes restricted by an invisible force, and his eyes sting in response to the sight.

"What the fuck, Joel?" your hands pick up the book with a reverence that makes his skin tingle. "Where... how —" both times you start, then stop. "My god." He just watches. You turn the book around, eyeing every millimeter. "This is real," you mutter. He's aware you're not even talking to him at this point. "Have you—" you look up at him, and he feels special enough, "have you opened it? Are the pages—it's whole?"

The way you breathe out the word.

A reverence. So sacred.

Joel might as well consider the bet paid if he wasn't so far gone on what he wants.

Kind of.

"It's whole," he confirms.

Joel almost opens up his mouth to make a teasing remark. Ask if you'd like to be left alone with it, maybe. Instead, he lets you examine it to your heart's will, which takes a while.

He's always comfortable in the silence with you.

That's when he started realizing the trouble he was in.

When he came over just to sit at the same table as you. Have dinner in silence while you cleaned your guns. Sometimes, he'd imagine a bottle of scotch would make the two of you end up in whispered conversations under the dim, yellowish lights of your place, but it never happened.

Joel's too much of a coward to let his guard down with you.

He wouldn't be able to do what he did with the others — a sweet release in the dark; an impersonal match of bodies, mingled in sweat and joined in more ways than it should seem possible, but never looking each other in the eye.

You looked him straight into his soul when you spoke to him. Every time.

"This means... you won the bet," you say.

Joel blinks out of his thoughts. "Sure does."

"So." You put the book down gently on your lap, then gaze at him, eyes piercing into his. "What d'you want?"

Tough question. Joel felt the tingle that never left his skin covering him from head to toe. His throat constricts around the words — his body starts to heat up. He shakes his head, and is overwhelmed by how the air seems to charge between you both. He licks his lips, and says.

Like a coward, his eyes fall on Frankenstein before he speaks.

"Can't have what I want." The naked truth. What's the point of lying to you, anyway? You're a shit liar. "So I'll ask for a close second," he adds quickly. Something magnetic pulls at him, and he looks up — a mistake. Fucking mistake—you never looked at him this way. Is that red on your cheeks? "I — uh; I want a voucher. A veto power."

You blink, utterly confused. "What?"

"A veto power over you." It's the closest he could think of on his way here. Some kind of power, since Joel has no right to demand anything from you. "On a decision. I—If you said you're comin' on a mission, for example. I could say 'no. Veto.' and that'd be it. No arguments. I want a veto card over you. Just one."

You stare at him for a few seconds, and Joel can almost see the engines in your brain turning.

Joel sometimes feels you're more than just yourself. The eyes on your head see far beyond what's in front of them, and he feels naked quite often when in front of you.

"Just tell me what you want," you say.

Can't have what I want, he told you. He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."

"How would you know?"

"I just do," he argues.

"Maybe you're wrong."

"I'm not!" The storm swirls and lifts him from the couch. Joel turns his back to you, overcome by the reality of it all. "I know I'm not. There isn't—what I want is impossible. There's no such thing anymore. It ain't like the books, or finding fucking chocolate or—it ain't. I wanted you safe. How fuckin' stupid is that—" he chokes on air, gasping around the words. "There's no safe anymore." Softer, and lower, it comes out again. "There's no safe."

Most of the time, Joel's control is kept on a tight leash. His hands have a vicious grip around it because if he loosens it, it'll run off.

His hands are shaking now. He should turn back to face you, to see if he's just said too much or fucked it up somehow, but—you get up. He hears the squeaking of the couch and your steps approaching.

Then, as slowly as you approached him when you first met, he feels it:

Your hands slide around his middle. Your palms spread across his back and contour his waist, and you're hugging him—you hug him from behind, and Joel's chest expands with the air that your presence brings.

"Joel." You hug tighter. He can feel your upper body pressed against his back, and his hands come up to rest on top of yours, shaking as they are. He wants to speak up, but you beat him to it. "I thought I was going crazy, Joel."

Crazy? He is going crazy. You're wrapped around him and the world is yet to implode; Joel feels a knot in his throat that wasn't there before. "Why?"

It hits him — the answer.

Before you're able to say it hits him in the chest, because your hands grip him by the ribcages but not with force; all your fingers need to do is apply gentle pressure on him and Joel feels that you want him to move, so he lets you.

You spin him inside your hold, and Joel goes willingly.

When he's turned and facing you, the answer is there, all over your face.

Your hands stay on his back, but your eyes are searching on every inch of his face for any sign, for anything to deter you from what you want to do.

Joel sees it. He is delusional.

"I want the impossible too," you say. It comes out in a soft whisper, and Joel mentally curses all the moments of silence between you two where he felt the air as palpable as you inside his arms right now. When you looked at him, almost through him, and he turned a blind eye to it in fear that it was exactly what he wanted and craved for. "Is it — too much?"

He's incapable of answering.

His hands come up to your face, and he fits his palm on the set of your jar, where his thumb can touch your cheeks.

You melt to the touch, eyes closing along the way.

All those times you two shared a laugh and a look, and the silence hung in the air as your eyes were unable to leave each other — this. It could've been this.

"Tell me to stop and I will," is all he can say before he dives.

Joel meets you underwater.

The same way you're drowning in his hands with all of your weight supported on his body, Joel submerges as his mouth meets your kiss.

It's a waiting game — you were waiting for the moment he'd realize, he thinks.

Joel may be out of touch with reality itself, but some things can pierce through different dimensions.

Raw things never fail to elicit the strongest form of feeling and your desire pulls him under—real, demanding.

Although he remembers being a vocal partner in bed, he has no words or taunting remarks for you—he'd rather kiss.

Your mouth parts so eagerly for him that Joel wants to shut up.

He has you shutting up, moaning in his mouth as his tongue slides on yours. His fingers grip tighter on your hair. Your arms cling to him, then both of them let go to wrap around his shoulders instead, and Joel feels the despair as you climb up higher, as you press your body harder against him.

He understands it. Empathizes, even — he's feeling it on him the same way.

Your desperate, wet kisses rekindle connections long lost in his brain.

Joel remembers the desperate and insane horniness of youth when hormones mix with inexperience and everything feels new and like a raw, open nerve.

This tastes like those moments.

It'd been so long since Joel was touched and your hands start a mapping of his body that start to get him drunk.

It hits him that it's you. He's kissing you, and you're kissing back with so much force that he has no air, there's no air in his lungs—

He pulls back, gasping, and feels your nails digging into his scalp. The moan scratches the back of his throat and Joel only notices his eyes are still closed when your forehead touches his and your breath starts mingling with his.

Opening his eyes is a blessing. And a curse, most likely.

Seeing your mouth swollen and puffy makes him greedy.

Then — "Are you stopping?" you ask. Hoarse voice. Breathless. "I didn't tell you to stop," you add, whining.

Joel picks you up in one motion, and the laughter that bubbles out of your chest reminds him that you're light — you're the ghost that pops up in his dreams shining with the pink hue of sundown and you're the hope of his mornings, the scent of coffee and pages and herbs that make him feel like this earth could still have a sense of home even if he denies that fact, gritting his teeth at the fact the world still goes on.

He pins you against the nearest wall. One without a shelf, or furniture.

With you pressed against the wall, he has better support. He can trace your thighs with his palm, can get his hands underneath your cotton shorts, your blouse.

"Are you trying to kill me?" you ask him. Your head hits the wall behind you, and Joel looks up to see you watching him as he maps you. You visibly swallow when your gazes meet, and Joel wants to say so fucking much, but nothing comes out at first.

All he wants is to make the pink on your lips become permanent.

He wants to rip every item of clothing on you with his hands, and wants to —

"Joel," you lean forward, capturing his lips in a kiss and stealing all the images he had of you pinned on your own wooden floor, cheeks pressed against it as he took you from behind.

When your tongue meets his, Joel feels something snapping.

He growls into the kiss, both of his hands groping your asscheeks as he desperately grinds his hips against your body.

This kiss is even better than the first, even if it kills all of his oxygen faster.

Joel never kissed like this. Not this messy, this wet and sloppy mess of need, and dry humping, and swallowing your moans only to have them be echoed back to you when you grind your hips down in the perfect way—

When he pulls back for air this time, Joel grips your head by the hair, making a fistful at your nape.

"This is not just now, is it?" he asks. His own voice sounds like sandpaper and pure lust, and he's not even beginning.

"No, no," you shake your head. "I need you, Joel."

"Fuckin' hell," he has more to say, but now he needs you naked. "'m gonna take off your clothes. Then I'm gonna eat your pussy 'cause I've thought about it too many fuckin' times." Your jaw falls open at him, and Joel smiles despite himself. "Yeah. You gonna let me, baby? Hm?"

Your only answer is to nod desperately, grinding against him as your eyes close.

Joel's in heaven. "Did I win what I want?" he asks.

"What?"

"My veto," he pulls you away from the wall and starts carrying you to your bedroom. "I still want it. Can't have the impossible but I can have a veto."

You laugh as he kicks your door open. "You want a fucking veto? Joel, all you have to do is hold me by the chin and say 'no' or 'yes' and I'd do it. It's that simple. Always have been. " You grab his face between your hands and pierce him with those All Seeing Eyes. "I'll give you your veto, if that's what you want." You kiss his lips, sighing softly. "'m sorry I can't promise you I'll be safe, but I can promise I'll try."

Joel knows he's about to do something that can't be taken back when he lies you down.

He nods just so you know he understood, but the knot's formed again and if he speaks, Joel will cry — the words wouldn't come out anyway, even if he wants to say them.

Joel's unsure if they haven't been burned out of his tongue.

He takes off your clothes one by one. Ironic for someone who wanted them ripped to pieces not a minute ago, but to have you laid in front of him soothes the desperation somehow.

His plans get interrupted, though, because once you're naked and all of his brain is mushed into nothing but skin skin you you touch touch touch, you stop him from kneeling down at the edge of the bed with a touch and one request, "You too?" your gaze is so open and vulnerable that his hands go to his shirt. "No — lemme. Please."

Joel does, and you do the same to him, taking his clothes off one by one.

When you drop to his knees in front of him, Joel is powerless.

He's too stunned to say or do anything but look.

Even his hands that itch to touch only manage to do so when they're flying for some support so his knees don't buckle and he falls — you grab his cock by the base with one hand, look up until his eyes are locked on yours, and then licks a wet stripe from his balls to the tip.

Then you do it again, and again, until Joel's coated in saliva, and you can suck around the tip, swallowing him down in one go.

He grips your hair for life support, cursing under his breath.

Joel's vocal about how much you're fucking killing him.

You go at it slowly, which is even more torture, but he gets it. He remembers you talking about not being with a person for the longest time. How it made no difference for you to have the physical or not because the attraction wasn't there unless there something underneath it — for someone who's out of practice, you must have the knowledge.

Your tongue runs on the sensitive skin between the dick and his balls, your mouth suctions when it's taking him down and when you start bobbing your head, using your hand to cover the parts your mouth can't reach, Joel has to physically pull you back.

"Stop, stop —" his hand on your hair pulls you back, and Joel curses again when you whine at having to let go. "'m gonna fuck you, baby, it's okay, 's okay," he gets you up by the neck, and is kissing you right after.

That's how he falls in bed with you — with his cock leaking pre-cum, his back already coated in sweat and your mouth tasting like him.

Joel eases the fall with his hand, not wanting to crush you with his weight. He wants to eat you out — Joel wants to bury his face in you, but when he makes a move to go down, your legs clamp around his waist and your head starts shaking.

You pull back from his kiss, "No — later, you can do that later, just — please," you guide your hand between your bodies to hold him and guide his cock to your entrance. "Waited too long, Joel."

I need you, Joel.

"Wait, wait — " it'll be over too fast if he sees you all the time. Joel has an idea. "A position that's better for you first. I wanna see you too, but I want you to feel good. Turn around for me."

"You want me on all fours?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Just turn around."

You obey him, and Joel grabs one of your pillows to push under your waist. You rest your cheek on the one under your head, and he positions himself first before crowding your space with his head on the crook of your neck.

He dips his fingers in first, spreading your wetness all over you before lining up.

It's sinful how good the position is.

He fills you up, bottoming all the way out. Joel's thick, but not too long, and he knows this angle is as good for you as it is for him. "Feels good?" he asks in your ear.

Your only response is his name.

"Is that a yes?" he pulls all the way out, and slams it back in, wanting to feel the drag. Wanting to feel your walls clamping around him. How you open up to accommodate all of him. "'Cause you feel like — fuckin' heaven, baby — louder, say it louder —"

"Feels amazing, Joel," you cry.

He knows it does. Joel hasn't felt anything remotely close to pleasure in a long time, so this might be too much, he might be in danger of growing an addiction, but he's past caring.

He drags it out.

Joel wanted to fuck you senseless a while ago, but now all he wants is to stay buried in the tight and warm haven of your cunt until you're both too spent to move a muscle. "'m gonna stay — all fuckin' night — inside you, baby — hm, whaddaya think?"

"Yes, please—"

"God, I love — that's all you can say to me."

"Don't stop," you cry out louder.

"I won't." He couldn't.

He doesn't want to. He doesn't.

Joel thrusts into you slow, measured and deep, until the heat in his groin is climbing like your nails digging at his sides. He loses count of how many times he sucks on your shoulders, how many bite marks you must have on your neck, of how many single-worded compliments he spills in your ears as he fucks the words out of you.

When you beg to cum, Joel flips you over and hoists your leg higher so he can go in deeper, and he fucks you the way you've been begging him to — crying around his fingers for harder, and faster, Joel, please, please, I'm not gonna break —

He gives it to you like both of you have been dying to receive, and when your legs start shaking around him and his name drops from your lips in a scream, Joel pulls out, coating your stomach in the hot strings of his cum.

He doesn't collapse on top of you, which is a miracle.

He does lay strategically next to you in order to avoid his own mess until he's able to feel his legs again.

Your fingers thread his hair during that time.

The spasms of your legs make him smile, and the little hums that leave you without you even realizing make Joel float on his bliss.

When he comes back to himself, he gets up to get a warm towel. He cleans you both, just enough so sleeping is okay. He pulls up the duvet and puts you underneath it before climbing under as well.

When he lays, Joel expects you to turn around;

Instead, you wrap around him in octopus style, and whisper, "Turn around."

He obeys, and is rewarded by you spooning him.

Joel thinks he might be dreaming.

"Are you gonna be here tomorrow?" you ask after a while.

Your bodies are as tangled as they can be. Your hands caress the hairs on his chest and your breath is on his neck, and still, you are stared he'll leave.

"D'you want scrambled eggs or you prefer the toast?" he replies.

There's a kiss on his neck. Another on his shoulder. He grabs one of your hand to pull it to his lips, and kisses it.

"Scrambled."

"'kay. Where d'you keep your sugar? I can never find it."

"I'll show you tomorrow," you kiss his shoulder, and squeeze his body. "Joel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

He can feel your smile because your lips are on his skin. He's gonna use that more, he thinks. "I might wake up rubbing myself all over you," you whisper.

He laughs. "Fine by me."

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 💖

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back, you know... or what you thought of this one.. just saying... <3

#usernexusnyx #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #nightskychallenge #joel miller fanfiction

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narcissistshandler · 2 months

Note

You don't have to take this if you don't want to but can I please ask for a yandere sae x brother reader

Where sae gets jealous and shows his brother who he belongs to

If you're uncomfortable with incest feel free to ignore

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘'𝗦 𝗔 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗬 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗞��𝗦𝗦 𝗠𝗘

pairing. itoshi sae x male reader

warnings. yandere sae, step-incest, dubious consent, possessive and aggressive behavior, slight threat, younger brother!reader, amab!reader, dry humping, semi-public

a/n. you definitely can, thanks for the request ♡

You brought the glass to your mouth once more, the cold in contrast to the liquid that ran down your throat, burning all the way. You had already lost track of how many shots you had had, something you normally wouldn't do, but when you recognized the reddish-brown hair under the multicolored lights and the familiar green eyes scanning around stopped on you, you immediately knew you needed alcohol to deal with what was to come.

"What are you doing here?" It was the first thing Sae asked you, his tone rigid as if it were you who had walked into the bar and found him there and not the other way around.

You simply raised the glass in response, muscle in your jaw clicking in a attempt to contain your anger.

Sae had been impossible the last few days. Acting so strangely that he had even managed to shake up your relationship with Rin, who wasn't happy with how Sae seemed to think that since you were now once again single from a relationship that ended very quickly, too quickly, you should now be 'taken care'. Sae's care of course included you not leaving the house and spending every possible moment with him, which wasn't even viable.

"I thought I told you to stay home," he said, looking tall and imposing as he stood next to the bench you sat on. He reached out a hand and covered the glass to stop you from continuing to drink. "If you wanted to drink just tell me, we could do it. Alone. At home."

"Sae, I'm not your little dog to keep on a leash. If I want to go out I'll go out, if I want to drink I'll go and if I want to go on dates, guess what? I don't need your permission." The last words left your mouth just in time for a person to approach you from the other side.

"You-" Sae began, but stopped when he saw the new presence preparing to sit on the free bench next to you.

"Sorry it took so long, there was a huge line at the bathroom," they said, the bright smile on the lips that didn't fade even in the face of the hardness on Sae's pretty face. "And you are?"

Even with the alcohol coursing through your system and slowly rising to your head, you would be able to notice the change in the air under any situation. Sae's green eyes were poisonous, seeming to pierce through the soul of your mysterious encounter. He leaned in close, chest pressing against your shoulder in a movement that you initially thought was to assert superiority in that strange mania your older brother possessed, soon however, you noticed that he seemed to be trying to get a clear view of their faces under the neon lights of the bar.

A warning light triggered in your brain.

"Sae," you tried, not even sure what you were trying to avoid.

"Get out," Sae growled, teeth clenched.

"What?" They looked confused, the smile becoming weak and uncertain as they looked from you to Sae. "Who is this, [name]?"

"It’s none of your business who I am, get lost or or I'll make you do it myself," Sae spat out each word and you watched his knuckles turn white where he pressed them onto the glass cup in your hand.

"Sae," you repeated, your own voice hovering in that harsh tone of reprimand. Your free hand grabbed Sae's arm, trying to keep him under control in a purely instinctive action. You knew that anger shining in Sae's eyes well, you knew it was an anticipation of disaster.

Your night date however didn't know Sae and despite seeming pushed back by his words, they didn't seem as scared as you. "Why don't we go somewhere else, [name]?" they asked, standing up and reaching towards you. "Somewhere quieter-"

As everything always seemed to happen when Sae was involved, the situation quickly turned ugly and messy.

Even so close to your brother, feeling his chest rise and fall against your arm, you didn't react quickly enough to prevent him from pulling the glass from between your fingers and practically bending over your lap, slamming the object against the side of the head of your encounter. The glass shattered, alcohol and blood running down their pale faces.

A single blow was enough to make them stagger. The music pulsed, swallowing the chaos in its darkness and multicolored acid lights. Your reaction wasn't agile enough, arms grabbing Sae's waist and pulling him back and against you. He ended up sitting uncomfortably on your lap, one knee on your leg and the other foot resting on the floor. The bench under the combined weight creaked and shook, threatening to knock you both to the floor.

A commotion ensued, people slowly taking notice of the scene, screams and voices rising in the air. Soon the bar's bouncers approached to guide you and Sae out among the shaking, dancing bodies, but not before you saw your older brother's lips curled proudly as he saw the blood diluted with alcohol forming a puddle on the floor and the look of pure shock on their face.

"What the fuck, Sae?!" you exploded, pushing him against the dirty wall on the side of the bar you thought you could never go back to. "Are you crazy?!"

"This was all your fault," he said, calmly as he rubbed the red stain that melted into the pure white of his shirt. His eyes looked black, clouded with a darkness that made you tense. "And since I saved us from a problem, why don't you be more grateful and thank me?"

“You’re really crazy,” you stated.

"Maybe. But that's your fault too. I told you to stay home, where I could keep an eye on you, take care of you, keep filthy people like that from getting their hands on you. And what did you do, [name], uhm?"

You shook your head.

"Wait until Rin hears about this."

The choice of words seemed to be a trigger and Sae stepped towards you, graceful as a feline. "Rin, Rin, Rin, that's all you know how to say," he said, stopping so close to you that you could feel his uneven breathing. "What is it between you two? Are you fucking him? Or is he fucking you?"

You looked at Sae in disbelief and when all that confronted you back was sharp steel, anger bubbled in your chest. "What the fuck are you talking about? Don't be gross, he is our brother. Rin-"

Before the words could leave your mouth, Sae's body slammed against yours, so violently that it forced you to step back. Your back hit the wall. Confused, shocked and angry, you looked at your older brother, expecting a punch or anything else that rivaled the anger on Sae's face. Instead, his mouth crashes against yours, teeth meeting and pain immediately piercing through your jaw.

With alcohol clouding your senses and anger heating your veins, it takes you a few full seconds to process the contact. Sae's hands grab your face, fingers digging painfully into your cheeks as he moves his lips against yours in a way that could only be described as angry.

That was his brother. And he was kissing you like he hated you.

"I hate the sound of his name in your mouth," Sae mouths each word against your mouth, forcing you to swallow the sound of them. "I hate everything about him and I hate everything about you even more."

"What? Sae-" you're genuinely confused by the sudden change of scenery, trying to move away, but with Sae against your front and the wall at your back, there's nowhere to run.

"Shut up," he orders in a growl, wet tongue licking from your lower lip to your upper lip. "Shut up and let me kiss you, that's the least you owe me, the least."

And you, against all rationality, against all the tangle of questions and doubts and confusion in your mind, surrender to the order.

Sae immediately picks up on the submission in your body language and with a little sound of laughter that haunts the dark alley, he sticks his tongue inside your hot mouth, about to ravage you.

You're tense, arms lying at your sides not knowing what to do and your mouth hard under Sae's violating ministrations. He doesn't care though. Sae seems to be having the time of his life, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth, slapping against yours, body pressed against yours from chest to crotch.

The heart was beating fast in the ribcage, sighs and heavy breathing filled the air, then a moan resounded — these coming from you or Sae, your mind couldn't distinguish. You two were so close, Sae seemed to desperately want to merge into you, that later, when you were sober, it could scare you, but not now, so drunk that you thought maybe you were staggering.

You closed your eyes, trying to pretend that it was someone else kissing you. The smell that filled your nostrils however was the characteristic perfume of your older brother, the voice echoing against your mouth could not belong to anyone else and the fingers, stuck in your face, nails digging into your skin, was very purposeful, very familiar and possessive to belong to anyone else. Everything screamed Sae.

"Who are you thinking about?" he asked, separating his mouth from yours, as if he could read your thoughts.

Your chest rose and fell, panting after the aggressive kiss, still feeling the ghost of his tongue against yours. "No one. You."

Apparently happy with the answer, Sae kissed you again.

There was an insistent bulge pressing against your thigh and when Sae slammed into you and the harsh friction of jeans against jeans scratched your skin, in the blur haze, reality hit you. Oh, no.

You pulled your mouth away from his, trying to move away from the firm fingers on your face that tried to pull you back. "Sae, this is going too far," you warned, tongue running over the words.

It was one thing to kiss, here in the dark and so drunk that you already had a perfect excuse to pretend not to remember anything tomorrow. But this, this was a lot, it was crossing all the lines and you didn't want to go to whatever was on the other side once you crossed them.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Sae repeated, sounding ecstatic, but you knew it wasn't from alcohol. His fingers moved, hand grabbing both sides of your face and his index and middle fingers digging into your mouth to shut you up. You felt his other hand reaching between your bodies and then, his hot, bare member released to press against your leg.

The alcohol had become an oily pool swirling in your stomach, leaving you dizzy and sick. Part of your mind didn't even know if all this was real or maybe you were passed out at the bar after drinking too much. Your hands squeezed Sae's hips, the waist of his loose pants allowing you to feel the warm bare skin. Why did he seem so real then?

No, don't go there. Don't think, don't question.

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back, the thud of the crash passed right through you. All you could feel was Sae's body against you, hot like a living fire, the little sounds he made as he rocked against your leg. Like a damn stray dog, you thought, wry and sharp. His fingers were sprawled against your tongue, the taste of salt heavy on your taste buds. Sae, Sae, Sae. He was everywhere.

"I hate you so much, you're so carefree and clueless-" His voice echoed through your ears, breathless. A groan interrupted him and his hips tensed as the dripping tip of his member rubbed against your groin. "And you are hard when you should hate it and the next time you disobey me I'm going to rip your dick off... oh- I-I swear I will, [name]."

You paid no attention to the threat, to his dark tone, trying to ignore that your body was reacting to all this rubbing with your older brother and that your cock felt damn sore trapped in its tight confines. You could feel every movement of Sae's hips beneath your fingers, the muscles working in slow, hard thrusts, his dick dripping against the entire front of your pants.

Sae was lost in his ramblings, seeming delirious with pleasure between confessions of love and hate and desire. I knew you were mine since the day my parents brought you home. The words hit you somewhere deep, or maybe, it was just the shock of the contact of Sae's bare shaft rubbing against yours, giving you a pleasure so deep that you wanted to refuse.

This wasn't right, you knew, even as the involuntary sounds left your mouth and were muffled by Sae's digits, feeling the slippery mess growing between your legs. Even with the need making you roll your hips back against his, meeting him halfway with each thrust, so that you were soon shamelessly grinding against each other in the dark alley, the pain of the raw scratch becoming mild and discarded.

You knew you had to stop this madness, but you couldn't muster enough strength, you didn't even know if you wanted to.

"More." One of you two asked, already on the edge of that precipice. Maybe you, maybe Sae. Maybe both. In any case, you both obeyed, hitting against each other with more urgency and need.

Sae sunk his teeth into the side of your neck, rocking erratically as his cock exploded, spilling all over your leg. "Oh, [name]," he groaned against your skin. Shame gnawed at your insides, chest rising and falling rapidly and your member throbbing, envious of Sae's release, feeling him ride out his orgasm with little sharp gasps. You stay completely still, mortified and with your brother's cum cooling on your jeans, where a noticeable stain was sure to be.

Your mouth was open around Sae's fingers, gasping for air and saliva running down your chin. You fought the voice in your ear that told you to bring Sae's hand to your hardness and beg him to touch you. Even under alcohol intoxication, you thought it was a good enough punishment to walk home with your cock hard, denied release and with evidence of your weakness stinging and burning from head to toe.

#x male reader #blue lock x male reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae smut #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x male reader #sae itoshi x male reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #sub reader #dom character #x reader #tw yandere #male yandere

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aemondsbabe · 2 months

Text

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?”

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.”

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home.

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well.

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it.

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement.

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was.

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk.

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it.

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face.

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you.

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings.

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly.

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does.

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin.

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks.

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor.

“A… A great victory, master!”

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare.

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?”

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you.

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall.

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded.

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –”

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately.

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always!

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything.

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts.

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.”

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow.

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours.

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad.

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer.

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet.

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone.

A kindness, even now.

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly.

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.”

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head.

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers.

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot.

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter.

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace.

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow.

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.”

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.”

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them.

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way.

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill.

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again.

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?”

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip.

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his.

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same.

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you.

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers.

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself.

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises.

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples.

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm.

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold.

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine.

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking.

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives.

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason.

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his.

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm.

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend.

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine.

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her.

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion.

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore.

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now.

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again.

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you.

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say.

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly.

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close.

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew.

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips.

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you.

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else.

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet.

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

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shybunnie20 · 4 months

Text

Virgin!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

strangers to friends to lovers

★Teasers ★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie embarks on a new chapter after finally graduating. He expects to face a variety of hurdles that come with a change of scenery, but what he doesn't anticipate is falling head over heels for you.

Author's Note: Holy shit, I can't believe this is finally finished after 11 months. It’s the first time I've written smut in well over a year and I'm pleased with how it turned out (I couldn't have done it without the support of my beloved @eddiethefreakkmunson)

Location photos are linked above and in the fic at their first mentions. AU with no Upside Down, no use of Y/N, focuses on Eddie's POV, fluff and mild angst with a happy ending *wink wink*

Word count: 17.3k

Warnings: MDNI 18+! alcohol consumption/drunken behavior, subtly pervy moments, masturbation, fondling, dry humping, protected p in v, oral (f receiving), a little bit of praise & possessiveness, includes swearing.

Eddie was determined to leave Hawkins for good as soon as he tossed his graduation cap to the sky. He didn’t expect how expensive a venture like that would be, so he devised a plan. For a couple of months, he would stick around to save up a financial cushion.

To pocket every penny possible, Eddie took up odd jobs around town like mowing lawns and painting fences. With every task completed, he army crawled his way toward living life on his terms. He didn’t expect it to take him well over a year to save up enough cash.

On this sweltering afternoon, the atmosphere is charged with the promise of new beginnings. The summer sun peeks out from behind the dense clouds and casts irregular shadows on the dirt road of Forest Hills.

His van is packed to the brim with boxes of his belongings. After mentally checking everything twice over, uncertainty twists Eddie’s stomach into knots. What if I have car trouble? What if I get lost? What if it’s not everything I hoped it would be?

Wayne descends the concrete steps and joins Eddie. He lets out a belly-deep sigh that speaks volumes. You’ll figure it out. You’re gonna find your way. Your best days are ahead of you.

There’s a hint of sadness in seeing his boy take this significant step toward independence. But beneath that sorrow, profound pride prevails within Wayne. Eddie’s dreams reach far beyond the boundaries of Hawkins. Sticking around here won’t do him any good.

Eddie looks at the man who’s been his rock; the one who used to rise before dawn to plate crispy bacon and fluffy pancakes, meeting Eddie’s needs before his own. The memories are vivid as he reflects on the milestones his uncle guided him through. Without a doubt, Eddie wouldn’t be half the man he is today if it weren’t for Wayne.

His beloved van sits atop the very spot where he once wiped out while learning to ride a bike without training wheels. “It’s time to be a big boy,” Wayne said, urging Eddie to muster some faith in himself.

Reluctantly, Eddie mounted his small bicycle and clutched the rubber handles. With a push to set him off, he experienced the fleeting thrill of accomplishment as he pedaled forward. He only made it a few feet before his balance wavered.

The bike wobbled, sending Eddie tumbling to the gravel. His knees and palms bore the brunt of the fall, and the sharp pebbles embedded themselves into his scraped skin.

Wayne isn’t exactly a ‘rub some dirt on it’ kind of guy, but he isn’t the coddling type either. He cleaned Eddie’s wounds, slapped on some bandages, and told him to give it another shot. Faced with his nephew’s tearful protests, Wayne emphasized that just because failure stings, it shouldn't deter him from trying again.

“I guess this is it then.” Eddie wipes beads of sweat from his brow using the back of his hand.

“Yep, looks that way. It sure will be quiet without y’here. I got so used to living with all that racket of yours.”

“It’s called good music. You should take it for a spin sometime, it’s way better than that honky-tonk shit you made me listen to growing up.”

“I like my honky-tonk shit just fine, thank you,” They share a laugh.

Wayne will undoubtedly miss their banter, but it’s their Sundays together that weighs the most on his heart. Occasionally, the summer graces them with a few perfect days—pleasantly sunny with a stirring breeze. That weather maintained an unspoken tradition.

When little Eddie moved in, he was struggling to find his footing and hadn’t spoken much. Wayne took him to a serene lakeside spot where the water gently lapped against the shore.

He cast his line into the water in pursuit of a crappie dinner, and six-year-old Eddie gleefully played with the live bait. Over the years, their dynamic remained largely unchanged. Wayne watched his bobber from the swaying dock while Eddie kicked back in a folding lawn chair. It was simple father-son time that didn’t cost more than an afternoon or two. As of now, those days are over.

“You sure you’re gonna be alright without me, old man?”

Wayne shrugs and shoves his hands into his front pockets. “I suppose I’ll manage one way or another.”

“Take care of yourself,” Eddie says firmly.

“Will do. Oof-” Wayne chuckles when he’s abruptly hugged. He smooths over the back of Eddie’s head with his calloused palm.

The men hold onto one another, their unspoken sentiments conveyed in the silent embrace. They exchange a pat on the back before parting.

Wayne’s eyes follow his nephew as he closes the rear doors and makes his way toward the front of the van. “Eddie, one last thing. Remember to take your chances while ya got 'em and strike while the iron’s hot. Don’t let nothin’ pass ya by.”

Offering a firm salute, Eddie hops up and settles into the driver’s seat.

With Hawkins in the rearview mirror, Eddie sets off. Chicago may not be the sprawling metropolises of New York or Los Angeles, but it’s a world apart from his hometown.

It’s far enough away to provide a much-needed change of scenery, yet close enough that he can move back home if things go to shit.

The drive goes smoothly overall with a couple of instances of getting turned around. By the time Eddie is finished with the long hours on the road, he’s bone-weary.

His new place may not be the epitome of luxury, but it’s a roof over his head and that’s all that matters. After lugging his things to the fourth floor, Eddie can finally consider himself moved in. His apartment lacks furniture and decor, but it’s a space he can call his own.

The throbbing of an unbearable intensity plagues his thighs, a fiery reminder of the multiple flights of stairs conquered. He collapses onto his twin mattress and emits a low groan. The sound bounces off the bare walls and echoes through the studio apartment.

Eddie starts noticing the difference in sounds around him. Gone are the barking dogs and tires rolling over gravel. His fridge hums like the one in the trailer, which is nice, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out the argument happening in the unit above his.

When the noise finally subsides, he hopes to catch up on some much-needed sleep. But just a few minutes later, the ruckus rekindles. In a bid for tranquility, Eddie clutches his pillow to his ears to block out the animalistic makeup sex seeping through his ceiling. He’s praying that the man is a two-pump chump because this is a lot for a first night. Hell, it’s too much for any night.

In a matter of days, Eddie has already encountered a series of issues. Whenever he tries to use hot water, his shower head screeches like a banshee. And the upstairs neighbors? They wear bricks for shoes and have a hoedown at 2 a.m. on a nightly basis; that is, if they’re not at each other’s throats.

Job hunting has been fruitless. The gas stations, car washes, and tobacco shops turned him down for the same reason: no documented experience. This means that he’s going to be stuck with the makeshift bed frame he came with for a while, which is just wooden planks zip-tied together. He’s not sure how long it’ll be able to withstand his tossing and turning.

There’s good news, though. Eddie refused to succumb to defeat. Today, he strolled past a tattoo parlor and impulsively checked it out. When he approached the counter, Eddie was met by an imposing man with a rather unwelcoming demeanor. In spite of feeling a bit intimidated, he greeted the man warmly.

As expected, the shop owner Cliff, did not reciprocate. When Eddie inquired about job openings, Cliff promptly replied with a curt “no.” Eddie’s tone grew desperate and he nearly pleaded. Cliff became irritated and offered a non-existent custodial position just to get Eddie to shut up and leave.

Currently sprawled on the rickety mattress, Eddie holds Mr. Pickles in the air and looks up at him. His trusty plushie is a bit worse for wear, having had his seams sutured with crimson battle vest thread.

“We’re doing it, buddy. We’re finally doing it.”

Shortly after moving in with his uncle, he had trouble falling asleep in the unfamiliar trailer. Wayne, hoping to provide comfort, gifted Eddie the stuffed bunny. It swiftly became a treasured part of his life, symbolizing safety and support—two things he hadn’t received much of up to that point.

The floppy-eared companion got its name from Wayne’s favorite snack. Whenever his uncle would pop the lid on a fresh jar of pickles, young Eddie would erupt into a fit of laughter. He insisted that Wayne was going to transform into a pickle due to how fast he blows through a jar.

In his twenties now, Eddie still cuddles with Mr. Pickles every night. If his pal could talk, he’d tell him how proud he is. Eddie rolls onto his side and nuzzles the bunny’s worn fur. That smile lingers on his face while he drifts off to sleep, now with a sense of hope for the days ahead.

The time has come. Eddie has worn through his entire wardrobe and needs to make a trip to the laundromat. Having a washer in the trailer was something he didn’t fully appreciate until now.

Taking a quick look around his apartment, Eddie spots a cardboard box that’ll suffice in lieu of a laundry basket. He fills the box with the scattered clothes from the floor, slips on his sneakers, and makes his way out onto the street.

Nestled in the heart of his neighborhood, Eddie arrives at his destination. The air carries an overwhelming fresh scent of detergent. It’s not bustling by any means; there are only a handful of people here.

Compared to those who are well-versed in their routine, Eddie feels out of place. He chooses an available machine and plops his box of dirty clothes on the counter behind him. He inspects the front-loading washer, not versed in its functions and operation. Eddie goes to open the machine’s door but it refuses to yield.

His patience wanes with each futile tug. Just as frustration peaks, a sudden realization dawns on him, prompting a blush to sweep across his cheeks. There’s a lock hidden on the flip side of the handle.

With the press of his thumb, the lock disengages and the door screeches open. Hot under the collar, Eddie hastily scoops up his clothes and stuffs them into the damp drum. He slams the door shut with a mechanical click, the sound signaling the lock relatching.

This place lacks helpful signage, to say the least. The only one here displays the cost of running a cycle, but there’s nothing to guide newcomers through the process.

Eddie pulls out his wallet to retrieve a few quarters. After inserting them, he figures out the detergent tray without much trouble. But as Eddie presses the START button repeatedly, increasing his force with each press, the machine stubbornly refuses to respond.

“You have to choose a setting.”

Eddie jumps at the sound of your voice, his brows arched and mouth hanging open. “Huh?”

You walk over from the adjacent wall of driers a few feet away. “It won’t start unless you select a wash setting first.”

He looks at you like a deer-in-the-headlights, so you step in and set the machine to delicate for him. The washer springs to life and water begins to fill the drum.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Eddie says while rubbing the back of his neck. “These are so different from the one I had back home.”

“Where’s home?” You ask, resuming your task of folding your clean laundry on the nearby counter.

Eddie is visibly taken aback by your continued engagement. “A town in Indiana that you’ve definitely never heard of,” He starts to fidget with the detergent jug’s cap, though it’s already sealed.

Suddenly, Eddie feels self-conscious about his appearance. Talking to a cute girl wasn’t on the agenda today, he didn’t dress for this. He regrets choosing function over fashion; his denim shorts are an old pair of Wayne’s jeans that he cropped to wear while mowing lawns. The raw hems are messily frayed and the light blue is darkened with grass stains.

“Indiana, huh? You’re a ways from home then. What brings you to The Windy City?”

Eddie’s attention lands on your pile of clothes, subtly assessing your wardrobe choices. “Uh- just needed a change of pace, I guess.”

“Chasing the dream, right? Figured Chicago had more to offer?” You peek at him, catching his stare fixed on a pair of underwear at the top of the pile—a standard white cotton panty, nothing worth ogling.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, his posture stiffening when you make eye contact. He swallows hard, averts his gaze, and shifts his weight between the balls of his feet. “Something like that.”

“Did you bring your band with you?” You take the undergarment in question and fold it, seemingly unfazed.

As you move the folded pile into your laundry basket, his clothes start thumping inside the machine, causing suds to splash against the glass window.

Eddie’s brows knit together. “How’d you know I have a band?”

“You’ve got the look,” You remark as your eyes travel over him.

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. “Is that so? Do enlighten me, what’s the dead giveaway?”

“Your hair,” You suggest charmingly.

Eddie swishes his brunette curls like a lady in a shampoo commercial. “Too predictable?”

“I’d say it’s on brand. Let me guess, Slayer? Maybe a little Dio or Megadeth?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you before looking down at his shoes. “Jesus Christ, you’re reading me like a goddamn book.”

You cock your head to the side, playfulness tugging at your lips. “And if I were to look for this book in a store, what name might I find it under?”

“Eddie,” He lets his arms fall to his sides. When you tell him your name, it bounces around in his head. How pretty, he thinks.

After lifting your full laundry basket, you step away from the counter. “Good luck with the dryers. Oh, and just a heads up, those doors lock too. Don’t go yankin’ the handle off unless you’re looking to take home a souvenir,” You giggle to yourself as you walk out of the laundromat.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open while he watches you leave. Once you’re gone, his attention drifts to the nearby bulletin board. Among the various flyers, one advertises an open mic night. He decides that he’ll check it out sometime this week.

At Double Barrel Bar, Eddie is swallowed by a sea of mainstream nonconformity. The bar-goers are dressed similarly to him, and while the crowd is mostly younger people, they’re still a touch older than him.

A symphony of clinking glasses and animated chatter collides with the thunderous live metal music. The dense haze of tobacco smoke and the distant clatter of pool balls only enrich the ambiance. The walls are adorned with framed music memorabilia and band posters, a mix of global icons and local talents.

Eddie is enveloped with nostalgia. This place reminds him of the gigs he used to play with Corroded Coffin, although they never played for an audience this size. Staring at the stage, he questions whether he could engage such a crowd and persuade them that he’s worth listening to.

Between two other men at the bar, Eddie takes a seat.

Lee, the bartender, greets him. “What can I get ya?”

Eddie shrugs and hooks his sneakers beneath the rung of the stool. “I'll take a cold one, whatever's cheapest.”

“You got it. Bottle or tap?” Lee wipes his hands on the white rag draped over his shoulder.

“Bottle is fine.”

Lee retrieves a bottle of beer and deftly pops the cap before sliding it over to Eddie.

His fingers curl around the icy glass, the condensation cool to the touch. Eddie’s plump lips wrap around the bottle’s rim and he takes his first sip. The crisp liquid trickles down his throat, offering a short-lived remedy for the stuffiness of the room.

As Lee tends to another patron, Eddie fidgets in his seat, causing the flier in his back pocket to crinkle. “So, you host an open mic?”

“Yeah, Thursday through Sunday. Are you any good?” Lee asks.

Eddie flips his guitar pick necklace between his fingers. “I like to think so. I guess you’d have to ask the ants in my kitchen, they’re the closest thing I've had to an audience lately.”

Lee snorts. “I've got a good feeling about you, I’m gonna reserve a spot.”

“Oh, uh- you don't have to do that.”

Lee waves his hand in dismissal and gathers the abandoned glassware from the now-empty seat beside Eddie. “No pressure, just swing by on Thursday if you’re interested.”

The opportunity intrigues Eddie, but performing alone is uncharted territory. Contemplating the offer, Eddie grapples with a cloud of self-doubt looming over his decision.

It’s been two months, and his routine is now established. Each day brings progress and a sense of reward, even though there have been occasional hiccups along the way.

Surviving the sweltering summer with a broken AC was sheer hell. He found himself spending ample time nude in his apartment or standing in front of the open freezer compartment of the refrigerator; sometimes simultaneously. Fortunately, September has arrived, and the temperature has begun to wind down.

Managing expenses requires a frugal approach, given the modest pay from his custodial job. Eddie resorts to taking power showers and using candles to keep his utility bill low.

Sometimes he forgoes meals to keep an extra couple of bucks on hand. But when he does eat, he opts for saltine crackers slathered in butter, bologna sandwiches, canned soups, and plain noodles. Occasionally he treats himself to store-bought pasta sauce, though it’s still the saddest spaghetti known to man.

Eddie faces skepticism from the seasoned artists at the tattoo shop, all military veterans who view him as an arrogant kid. Their perception fuels his determination to prove himself. To earn their respect, he’s dedicated to cleaning more thoroughly than he ever has in his life.

He’s become keenly observant, absorbing every detail of the professional tattooing process, despite never being included in those conversations. Within the circle of artists—Ace, Lunchbox, and Dozer—Eddie gravitates toward Ace, who becomes a mentor. Seeing Eddie’s genuine enthusiasm, Ace asks about his drawing abilities.

Although Eddie’s sketchbook is brimming with fantastical creatures, Ace can recognize a young man’s raw ambition and desire for direction and purpose. He takes Eddie under his wing, allowing him to learn the medium while on the clock.

After taking Lee up on his offer, Eddie found himself on stage every Thursday night. His performances were rusty, as he hadn’t played in front of anyone since before he was working his ass off to get here.

As he strummed through the jitters, Eddie rediscovered the sanctuary that music had always offered. It felt like a part of him had resurrected, reviving the passion he sorely missed.

Playing Thursday nights may not rake in tips like the weekends would, but he’ll take what he can get. Eddie’s been saving up for some pre-owned furniture, and he’s happy to snag any extra cash he can for it.

Life is good right now. The worry about moving back home has lessened, and he’s genuinely amazed at how smoothly things are going. Just when Eddie thought things couldn’t get any better, a Saturday night slot opened up at the bar.

It would be twice as busy, packed from wall to wall with people who could bare witness to him fucking up. Doubt crept its way in, but when Lee mentioned that Eddie could pocket thirty-five bucks or more by the night’s end, it was a no-brainer.

Tonight marks his debut Saturday gig. Stepping through the red brick archway and out onto the stage, the creak of the rustic boards beneath his feet sends a ripple up his legs. Eddie hasn’t even made it to the mic and he’s already forgotten what foot he’s supposed to be stepping with next.

Beneath his t-shirt, his back grows slick. A lump lodges itself in Eddie’s throat, causing his voice to crack when he introduces himself to the room. Amidst the overlapping conversations and the flushing from the nearby restroom, the amassed noise seems muffled. The strong winds in his head distort the sounds, whirling like a twister.

Eddie hooks his guitar up to the amp and forces himself to take a deep breath. As he tunes his instrument, the upheaval begins to settle. Gradually, Eddie finds unity with his guitar and concentrates on perfecting the tone.

Throughout the performance, there’s a persistent undertow of nerves refusing to fully subside. In spite of his efforts to lose himself in the music, his fingers occasionally falter as they dance on the strings.

At the end of his set, Lee can be heard whooping and hollering over the sparse clapping. With a sense of relief, Eddie packs up and makes a beeline for the bar, eager to ease the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Normally, the rush is akin to a high, but this time around it’s so intense that he’s dying to dial it back a notch.

He splurges and orders something a bit fancier than his usual bland beer. Why not celebrate a little? Eddie claims a recently vacated table in the bustling crowd, seating himself on the leather stool adorned with studs. His eyes roam the room while he takes a swig of his drink, savoring the superior crisp taste.

His attention zeroes in on a figure just feet away, a quick recognition igniting in his mind. Eddie recognizes you instantly, due to the scarcity of memorable encounters he’s had.

Eddie observes from afar, observing your mannerisms as you execute your waitressing duties. You must only work weekends, which would explain why your paths haven’t crossed again until now. When your eyes meet his, a shock shoots through his body.

He sits in rapt anticipation as you make your way over. Time seems to stretch unbearably from your previous spot until you finally stand opposite of him, separated only by the circular wooden table.

A courteous smile graces your face—a skill that waitresses must master if they want to pay rent. “Ready for another?”

Eddie stares back at you. His eyes drift down to the almost full beer bottle in his hand. The cogs in his skull are scraping, unable to put the words you’ve said to him in a comprehensive order. He nods without making a peep.

You pivot to leave, but then turn back to him and lift a brow at his unaltered dumbstruck expression. “Are you sure? ‘Cause you don’t look it.”

He remains silent and shakes his head sheepishly, feeling foolish for agreeing to another beer and then changing his mind just because you asked again. Is there more dignity in being indecisive than a bumbling mess?

“You were just singing up there for nearly an hour,” you call him out, folding your arms and tucking your serving tray against your side. “I know you can talk.”

Eddie clears his throat, but he ends up making an odd sound. “Uh, my throat’s a bit sore, that’s all.”

“Did you forget to do your vocal warm-ups or what?”

“It probably sounded like I did,” Eddie laughs, the self-deprecation evident.

“Not at all, I thought you were great.”

“You did?” Eddie’s lips curl at your compliment. Heat blooms on his cheeks, amplifying the full-body perspiration. He takes a casual sip from his beer, a guise to moisten his dry mouth and escape your intimidating gaze.

“Totally, you really come alive when you’re up there,” you rest your forearms on the table’s edge. “Is it just Eddie, or do you go by a stage name?”

No way. There’s no fucking way that you remember him, his face is so forgettable it’s not even funny. Lee had to have said something about who was filling the Saturday night spot. Eddie is inwardly thrilled to hear his name roll off of your tongue, but he tries to maintain his composure. “I suppose not, I guess I never thought about it.”

“You could pull it off, it suits the whole ‘one-man show’ thing you’ve got going on,” You say while giving him a once-over. The intrigue on your face is unwavering as you walk away.

He’s drunk, he has to be. Or maybe his drink was spiked somehow. The room is spinning and he feels nauseous as all hell, despite only having taken a few swigs from his beer.

A short while later, Eddie’s bottle is half-empty as he sits, continuously replaying the moment in his mind. More specifically, he can’t stop thinking about the sparkle in your eyes; he’s never seen anything like it.

He snaps back from his daydream at the sight of your return, this time with an unopened beer in hand. Eddie looks nothing short of puzzled as you slide it across the table toward him. “Uh, no thanks, I’m-”

“Relax, it’s not for you. I’ll be clocking out in six minutes. I wanna hear more about that small town of yours. I mean, as long as that’s okay with you. I understand if you have other plans tonight.”

“No!” Eddie exclaims. “I mean, yes it’s more than okay, and no, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

You glance downward while scuffing your shoe against the floor. “Okay, cool. Keep it cold for me then?”

“Yeah, for sure. You can count on me.”

Shit shit shit. How is he going to keep this beer cold? Of course, ways to heat it flood his mind. If you come back to a lukewarm beer, that’ll be the end of him. He’s going to fuck this up and any chance of getting to know you will be squashed.

When you join him again, your drink is still cold and the bottle has left a ring of moisture on the paper coaster. Eddie’s unsure of how he managed to not lose it; if he’s capable of anything, it’s misplacing something when his only responsibility is to keep it in his possession.

As you slide onto the stool beside him, you’re quick to inquire. You ask him typical ice-breaker questions at first, and Eddie responds with a plethora of details. At times, he goes off on tangents. You don’t appear bothered by it.

Eddie talks about his ability to learn how to play songs by ear, and he delves into the intricacies of his favorite Dungeons & Dragons campaigns that he’s created over the years. He earnestly tries to convey its depth to you and throughout his ramblings, he doesn’t miss the concentrated look on your face as you try to keep up.

Lee is nearing the end of his cleaning routine and the other waitresses have left for the night. Neither of you is aware that the bar is devoid of a crowd, scorching lights, and blaring music.

Eddie has been too busy asking you about your origins and passions, his wide eyes and attentive demeanor affirming his genuine interest. Just as he mentions working at the shop and you’ve asked him how many tattoos he has, you’re interrupted.

Lee stands beside the table, armed with a damp rag and a spray bottle. “Awfully hard to wipe the seats when your asses are still on them. Scoot your booch,” Lee instructs by motioning toward the entrance.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to slip off his stool. You, on the other hand, take your sweet time.

“Have a good night,” You say and give Lee’s shoulder a friendly pat.

Uncertain of his next move, Eddie hesitates while you make your way to an unmarked door. It’s half past two in the morning, and he feels a tug of concern about you leaving by yourself.

There’s a very good chance that you’d consider him clingy or intrusive if he waits here. Eddie opts to stand outside. He props himself against the building and idly nudges a loose chunk of concrete with his shoe to keep himself occupied. Soon after, you emerge into the night.

The slam of the heavy door prompts him to straighten up. “Hey.”

“Oh, I thought you left,” you admit and adjust your purse strap on your shoulder. “Thanks for telling me about Hawkins the Hell Hole.”

“The pleasure was all mine. Do you, uh…” Eddie inches forward, his Reeboks scraping loudly on the pavement. “Would you like me to walk you home? It’s pretty late.”

“I don’t live far, it’s just a few blocks.’

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you around then?”

Your eyes twinkle brighter than he’d previously seen. “I’d say the odds are in your favor.”

“Goodnight. Get home safe,” He says with a half-hearted bow.

“Likewise,” You reply, biting back a giggle.

Eddie watches you fade into the darkness along the unlit patches of sidewalk. Once you’ve turned the corner, Eddie smiles from the surreal sensation of floating on clouds.

In this moment, the feeling of joy is so potent that it’s borderline palpable. He’s the embodiment of elation, a soul soaring high. It’s a feeling he wishes he could bottle up and carry with him forever.

The next Saturday plays out much like the previous one, save for one detail: it’s considerably tougher to concentrate on stage knowing who’s in the audience. Post-performance, the routine echoes that of the prior week. The two of you gravitate toward the same table as before, establishing it as the one you’ll always sit at.

At first, a hesitation lingers before diving into more personal topics. However, as the night progresses and more beers are consumed, you seamlessly fall into them. Eddie weaves elements of drama and romanticism into his past, making it utterly engrossing for you to listen to.

When you propose getting together outside of the confines of the bar for the first time, Eddie eagerly accepts your invitation to show him around since he has yet to do any sightseeing.

Eddie is swept up in an exuberant wave of boyish excitement, and it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt. He never experienced it during his teenage years like the average person. The sheer thrill of having an instant connection with a girl is an entirely new feeling for him.

Week after week, your laundry days are synchronized and you’ve started the habit of making silly faces or giving each other the finger just because. During the late nights spent together at Dove’s Diner, Eddie finds enjoyment in seeing you eat. It’s a peculiar fascination, but it makes him happy. Seeing you completely at ease while enjoying greasy food is endearing to him.

When he arrived in Chicago, Eddie couldn’t shake the feeling of not wanting to move back to Hawkins. Even so, he wasn’t experiencing the same comfort here as he did in that cramped trailer.

There was a longing for familiarity that he had in his old surroundings. Eddie didn’t want to have to go back home in order to feel that sense of belonging again. He had his doubts about ever truly adjusting to life here until you came along. In your company, the foreignness of the city fades away, replaced by that feeling he’s been missing.

Several times, he’s been working in his sketchbook, adding to the pin-up style figures and faces that bear a striking resemblance to you. While engrossed in drawing, he hadn’t picked up on the similarities. But when he absentmindedly drew a simple heart, that's when it occurred to him.

Eddie like-likes you.

As your shift comes to an end, you head to the back room to gather your belongings. Eddie stands idly at your claimed table, picking at his hangnails while he waits.

“When’re you gonna ask her out?” Lee asks while tidying up nearby.

Eddie laughs heartily at the idea. “How about never.”

“You should. I can tell she’s into you.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t stand a chance.”

Lee puts down his spray bottle and looks at Eddie. “Listen, I’ve known her for a while now. Trust me on this,” he dumps a used ashtray out into a trash bag.

Eddie emits a noise of disbelief, his mind flickering back to the painful lesson he learned in his youth—he’s no one's type. Lost in reflection, he doesn’t realize you’ve returned with your sweatshirt draped over your bent arm.

Despite the tiring evening, you're upbeat in his presence. “Okay, I’m ready! I was thinking we could get some takeout and watch TV at my place.”

“Sure, I could eat,” Eddie says with a grin. Lee is shaking his head, looking particularly smug.

Your apartment is the polar opposite of Eddie’s, the difference is like day and night. It has a homey atmosphere and there’s a notable absence of wear and tear. He does have band posters, framed personal photos, and furniture, but they fail to create the same inviting ambiance that your apartment effortlessly exudes.

Seated beside Eddie on your couch, you tease him. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I’m trying!” He attempts to mimic your technique, but the piece of chicken repeatedly falls from his chopsticks.

“I can see that,” you stifle a laugh. “And you’re total shit at it.”

Out of frustration, Eddie impales his sweet and sour chicken with both sticks.

Glancing your way, he catches you smiling ear to ear, watching him. Eddie smiles back as he chews. “What? This way works just as well.”

You laugh and refocus your on the TV while resuming your meal. Eddie swears that you’re sitting closer to him than when you first sat down. Your thigh is almost touching his and your shoulder is just as close.

The paranoia subsides as he gets lost in thinking about how he can feel the heat radiating off of your bare thigh. But Eddie’s pulled back to reality when your chopsticks cut across his vision and dig into his takeout box.

He doesn’t mind, not really; sharing is caring. Having said that, when you lean over to look into the box, your shoulder bumps against his. A particularly appreciative sound escapes your lips, one that’s borderline pornographic.

“That’s really good, I’ll have to get some next time,” you hum and place your takeout box on the coffee table. “Or I could just keep stealing yours, it tastes better that way.”

Eddie is frozen, eyes unblinking. As you return to your spot on the sofa, you’re unquestionably closer this time. Your beautiful skin is on display in those shorts of yours and your bare thigh is brushing against his own. He could choke on air right now if he were still breathing.

You look over at him, your brow furrowed. “You good?”

“Yeah, yep. All good,” Eddie avoids making eye contact and stares blankly ahead. “Peachy keen.”

“Okay, weirdo,” you brush off his abrupt awkwardness and scoot toward the edge of the cushion. After gathering your trash, you look at him. “All finished?”

“Mhm,” He replies weakly and extends his box toward you.

With your arms full, you head into the kitchen, leaving him by his lonesome in the living room.

Eddie releases a heavy sigh and drags his hands down his face. Your absence allows him to reenter his body, but it only makes him keenly aware of his not-so-subtle half hard-on that’s outlined through the thin fabric of his shorts.

His eyes widen in alarm and panic takes over. “Shit!” Frantically brainstorming ways to conceal it, Eddie spots a fuzzy blanket at the far end of the couch and he retrieves it, draping it over his lap. While he tries to make himself look as casual as possible, he catches a glimpse of your approaching shadow just before the kitchen light is switched off.

In the few seconds he has left, Eddie tries out various hand placements, but none feel quite right. Every position feels forced and conspicuous.

As you stride back to the couch, your sweet expression eases some of the tension in his bones. “I got a bit chilly,” Eddie blurts out, hoping to preempt any impending questioning. “Is it okay if I use this?”

“No, I’m totally gonna tell you that you can’t use a blanket for its sole purpose.”

Eddie laughs nervously, “Alright, alright.”

This is arguably worse, being wrapped in your scent. It’s awfully hard not to get any harder when your natural smell is flooding his head. It’s intoxicating, and he finds himself inhaling deeply to capture as much of it as he can.

“What’d I miss?” You ask while plopping back down beside him.

The continuous movement causes Eddie to clench his back molars together because an image surges before he can even think to suppress it. He’d bet all the money he has that you’d look stunning on top of him. There’s fantasy looming alongside the image; Eddie wonders what you look like beneath your clothes.

“Nothing, you didn’t miss anything,” He mutters. When you start to squirm against the back of the couch, Eddie shoots you a questioning look. “You got ants in your pants?”

You huff, “No, there’s an itchy spot on my back. Could you scratch it for me, please? It’s driving me nuts.”

“Oh, um, sure,” Eddie fumbles for words as you angle yourself and present your back to him. “Where is it?”

“Right between my shoulder blades.”

Eddie’s eyes zero in on the outline of your bra strap that’s visible through your shirt across your back. Given his luck, that would be the target. Just to be cautious, he starts by scratching at the higher middle part of your back.

“A little lower.”

Eddie swallows hard as his fingers tentatively inch their way down. His belly begins to swirl the closer he gets to the clasp, but thankfully, you stop him just before he reaches it.

“Right there! Yeah, harder.”

If this goes on too much longer, Eddie could very well pass out. But, per your request, he applies more pressure. Beneath the blanket, the discomfort has only intensified—his arousal is now raging with a persistent ache.

“Oh my god, finally,” You say appreciatively and settle back into a more relaxed position.

The overwhelming urge to touch himself skyrockets as his body begs for friction. Eddie repositions himself to adjust the blanket, hoping to keep his erection concealed. From the corner of his eye, his gaze drifts along your figure, pausing at the rise and fall of your diaphragm as you watch TV.

A jagged breath falls from his lips, but he’s determined to clear his mind. Realizing that he can’t leave here tonight with your blanket as a shield, he has to find a way to distract himself by the end of this program.

Miraculously, he survived. Now lying in his bed, Eddie is surrounded by the darkness, save for the glow of the moon and the faint residual light from the streetlamps filtering through the broken blinds. Eddie stares up at the ceiling while his mostly naked body responds to the vivid recollections swarming his train of thought.

On any ordinary day, Eddie would resort to the routine of using his hand and lotion to relieve himself. Be that as it may, the stirring in his core demands a different sensation.

With the thought of you weighing heavily on his mind, there’s an alternative means by which he’s going to alleviate the frustration and desire that’s grown too loud to ignore. Eddie, already shirtless, yanks his boxers off in a swift motion and kicks them off carelessly. Moving onto his knees, he leans over the edge of his bed and retrieves a pillow from the floor.

He sits back on his heels in the middle of his bed and contorts the stuffing with intent. For a moment, he’s not sure how he wants to use it. His body’s impatience grows, causing his erection to bob expectantly.

Eddie licks his lips in anticipation and sets the bent pillow down with the bend facing him. With one hand, he firmly holds the makeshift toy in place. With his other, he strokes himself languidly, blotting the fabric of the pillowcase with precum as he taps his cock against it repeatedly.

Experimentally, Eddie rolls his hips downward, thrusting the sensitive underside of his length against the smooth material. His eyes fall closed, and he can’t seem to pick just one aspect of you to fantasize about, not when every inch of you is so captivating. Eddie grunts, “Yeah, you like that?”

He adjusts his hips, angling them lower to get more friction. The heat blooming causes Eddie’s jaw to go slack. The usual five or six minutes have been halved as the thought of your smile makes Eddie embarrassingly close already.

Wanting to get in a few more thrusts before he’s spent, Eddie pistons himself against the pillow. “Tell me how badly you want me, I wanna hear you say it.”

With one fist continuing to pin the pillow down against the mattress, Eddie trails his other hand up his pale, slender stomach. He digs his gnawed-down nails into his skin, leaving red streaks behind, as he tries to imagine it as your touch. Eddie doesn’t know what it would feel like if it wasn’t his hand, but the thought of you is more than enough.

Devoid of any visual aid, the absence of a magazine or porno tape isn’t hindering him. Typically, when Eddie only has his imagination to utilize, he can beat off without finishing until he eventually gets bored and gives up.

This time it’s different. As his thoughts run wild, Eddie’s rhythm falters. The bed frame squeaks, and the wood shifts while he thrusts as hard as he can.

“Uhhh,” A coarse moan pours from his throat as his cum shoots onto the pillow. Eddie’s thrusts slow to a stop and he pants. The tension in his abdomen gradually subsides as he floats his way back down to earth.

His eyes flutter open, and he’s faced with the mess he made. “Fuckin’ hell,” With a sigh, Eddie decides that he’ll deal with it tomorrow.

After changing into fresh boxers, he chugs down a glass of tap water. Utterly exhausted, Eddie collapses back onto his bed. The aged frame creaks in protest to his abrupt flop. The intensity has been burned away, and what lingers is rawness.

Here’s the thing, Eddie has a way with words, and his unconventional charm comes without a second thought. But conveying himself physically is a different story. His upbringing lacked affection, and consequently, Eddie was robbed of particular milestones. Among those missed moments was sitting on the grass beneath a starry night sky on summer night.

Eddie never got to pluck the green blades from the ground as he gathered the courage to have his first kiss. He hasn’t so much as held someone’s hand before.

With Mr. Pickles tucked under his chin, a wave washes over his heart, wading him further into the tide of ache. Eddie may be inexperienced but he’s not stupid. He’s picking up what you’re putting down. Your persistent hints practically scream at him to make a move.

But your persistence only worsens the anxiety because Eddie’s not sure that he can take the leap like you want him to. It’s not that he doesn’t want you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s uncertainty about what to do if he gets to be with you.

Eddie’s drawn to you, his poor pillow could tell you that much. This isn’t the first night he’s spent laying here trying to talk some sense into himself. When he practices being smooth instead of awkward, Eddie struggles to navigate through the hypothetical scenarios that he’s in complete control of.

If his bedroom walls could speak, they’d tell of those nights. But after the sinful act he just committed, they have a hell of a lot more to say. Those bold utterances were far from who he is. It was a facade, a portrayal of a self-assured man he’ll never embody.

Talking dirty made him feel powerful in the moment because the mask allowed him to avoid facing how he truly feels about you. At his core, what Eddie craves is to baby you, he wants to show you that he can be sensitive. He’d die on the spot to see you in a state of delight from being showered with adoration.

Eddie closes his eyes and envisions a world where he can be what you want. He’d never be oblivious to having food in his teeth, and he’d never push a door that should be pulled. This false reality is one where he doesn’t disappoint you by shying away from your advances. It’s unrealistic, he’s just not wired that way.

During his younger years, Eddie endured the worst of taunting. The other kids mocked his short frizzy curls by referring to it as a “rat’s nest.” They told him that he’d resemble a troll until his dying days. It was ingrained into him that he was unworthy of any form of love—be it familial, platonic, or romantic. The remarks made about Eddie’s prominent nose convinced him that he was a walking safety hazard and he’d poke someone’s eye out if he ever dared to kiss them.

In the seventh grade, Eddie hit a breaking point. He was fed up with having chewing gum put into his curls. There are too many times to count where Wayne sat for hours with a jar of peanut butter, attempting to free the cemented wads from his nephew’s locks. One day, Eddie stood in front of the mirror in the cramped bathroom and cried at the discovery of another bright pink clump of gum tangled in his hair.

It may have been just one piece at that time, but it was the final straw. Out of desperation, Eddie did the only thing he felt would solve the problem for good. By taking matters into his own hands, he used the clippers to give himself a buzz-cut. As chestnut-colored locks cascaded down, settling atop the sink and his feet, the damage was done.

Wayne lent a hand in handling the patchy spots in the back of Eddie’s head that he couldn’t quite reach. The impromptu solution worked as he’d hoped, but it only opened the door to different torment.

The following school day, his classmates didn’t hold back, likening his appearance to that of an inmate waiting to meet Old Sparky, or cruelly suggesting that he resembles his imprisoned father.

Eddie quickly came to understand that he was never going to be the guy girls wished would ask them to the dance. The scars of rejection were etched into his self-esteem, and since then, he’s come to terms with his inadequacy.

Perhaps you’re interested in Eddie because there are still things you don’t know about him. Surely, once you learn how unworthy he is, you’ll laugh in his face just as the others did.

Tonight he’s shielded from the nightlife commotion inside his van, parked along the curb outside your apartment. He sits patiently, watching the pine tree-shaped air freshener gently sway with the feeble push of air from the AC vents.

It’s Friday night, and there’s nothing he’d rather do than spend it with you. Eddie directs his attention toward your building as you descend the steps of your apartment’s stoop.

Eddie detects the effort, even from afar. Your shoes look new and you’re wearing more makeup than he’s used to seeing you in. These differences have him pondering the significance behind the deliberate choices.

When Eddie casually suggested catching a movie a few days ago, he hadn’t thought much of it. To him, it was merely something you hadn't done together. He didn’t think twice when you got so excited about seeing a late-night showing of Die Hard.

It’s dawning on him that it wasn’t because you’re a big Bruce Willis fan. The reason you’re all gussied up is because this is a date. He asked you out on a date.

This is not a problem, per se. Eddie’s thrilled about going on his very first date, but fear also has him in a chokehold because he’s unprepared.

Wayne never took the time to give his nephew the lowdown on dating. It didn’t come up because Eddie never displayed interest or curiosity about it.

He’s at a loss. Eddie doesn’t know how to carry himself, he doesn’t have a clue about what’s considered proper etiquette beyond what he’s seen on TV and in movies. Are those even reliable sources?

As you cross the sidewalk in his direction, Eddie’s palms grow slick. It suddenly registers that he should be outside, ready to hold the car door open for you. But before he can act on this realization, you swiftly swing the door open and slip onto the passenger seat.

"Hi," You chirp, the sound almost a squeak as you close the car door behind you. You subtly adjust the bottom of your dress before securing your seatbelt.

“Hey,” Eddie’s eyes wander over your body until he finds himself admiring your bare knees.

With a jolt, his eyes snap back to your face, only for you to be watching him with a pleased expression adorning your features.

Eddie clears his throat and busies himself with turning over the ignition. “You look nice,” he scrunched his face. “Pretty! I meant to say you look pretty.”

"Thanks," you reply appreciatively and inspect your freshly painted nails to ensure they’ve withstood the indecisive wardrobe changes of the past half hour.

Throughout the brief drive, engaging in small talk grants Eddie a temporary respite from his brain being in overdrive. Determined to maintain composure, he makes a conscious effort to avoid looking your way.

Eddie successfully carries the conversation as you enter the lobby and get through the refreshments line. Luckily, you secure the last two seats at the end of a row; he’d have been mortified if the theater was oversold and there weren’t any seats left.

The first half of the movie goes as one would expect; you’re comfortably seated beside him, occasionally whispering commentary to each other. Meanwhile, Eddie shovels fistfuls of over-buttered and under-salted popcorn into his mouth, crunching away as the scenes progress on the screen before him.

But then there’s a subtle shift in your body language. He assumes that your inability to sit still might be caused by the need for a restroom break. That is until your knee gradually inches closer to his.

The film has become an afterthought as Eddie watches you place your hand on your thigh, noticeably close to his own that’s casually hanging off of the armrest. It’s impossible to differentiate the pounding pulse in his ears from the blasts of gunfire booming through the theater.

When your fingertips graze his, Eddie rips his hand away to reach for the bucket of popcorn that’s resting in the ditch of his opposite arm. “Want some?” he fails to whisper while offering the bucket to you.

The explosive flashes of red and yellow harshly illuminate your face and without a word, you shake your head and go back to the movie.

Eddie puts the bucket back where it was, and in the hopes of distracting himself from the guilty tingle in his feet, he fidgets with his wristwatch. Repeatedly, Eddie clasps and unclasps it, making the strap incredibly loose and uncomfortably tight around his wrist.

A few minutes go by and without warning, his heart stops because you unexpectedly rest your head on his shoulder.

As if struck by lightning, Eddie leaps to his feet. The motion launches the bucket of popcorn into the air, and the people in the row in front of you are showered with kernels. He's as stiff as a board as he’s confronted with mild uproar and a chorus of expletives.

Red-faced and unsure of whom to apologize to first, Eddie turns to you. “Shit! I’ll go get another one,” He doesn’t wait for your response and rushes down the stairs, practically leaping over them two at a time.

After bursting through the double doors and out into the empty hallway, Eddie brings his palm to his forehead, his other hand propped on his hip while he paces. Once he’s able to collect himself, Eddie heads toward the lobby, only to find that everything is powered down.

Eddie decides to use the little time he has to rehearse what he’ll say. There might not be anything he can do to play off his peculiar behavior; at least, nothing that he can think of at the moment.

As he shows up empty-handed, Eddie doesn’t overlook your rigid posture. Your left leg is crossed over your right, pointing away from him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re just upset that he wasted the popcorn and didn't get more.

In your lack of questioning, Eddie feels compelled to explain himself. “Concessions were closed, so…” He gestures with upturned palms, but you don’t acknowledge that he’s spoken or come back.

Not having received a response, Eddie resorts to chewing on his thumbnail and his leg bounces in tandem. Lost in his head, he finds it increasingly difficult to focus on the remainder of the movie.

Exiting the theater and stepping out into the parking lot, Eddie’s voice lacks confidence as he walks alongside you. “What’d ya think? I give it a solid six out of ten.”

You reply with a casual shrug and wrap your arms around yourself. “It was alright.”

“How ‘bout I treat you to Dove’s? Wanna go for a bite?” Eddie suggests to salvage the remainder of the evening.

“I’ll pass. I’m not hungry,” you say curtly, taking a step ahead to open the passenger door for yourself, denying Eddie a second chance to hold it open for you.

“Oh,” Eddie begins, but his sentence is severed by the slam of the door. “Okay,” he finishes with a sigh.

During the drive back to your neighborhood, the air feels dense. The radio commercials do little to fill the space between you.

Upon the front tire nudging the curb, you get out of the van before Eddie has put it in park. He hurriedly follows suit, rushing over to catch up with you as you head toward your front steps.

“I had a good time tonight. Did you?” Eddie blurts out.

Pausing in your steps, you turn around and face him. “Yeah, I guess.”

Knowing that he’s the cause of your deflated spirit punches a pang to his chest. Eddie offers a gentle expression. “Would you wanna go again sometime? Probably best if you hold the popcorn though,” he chuckles uncomfortably.

“Night, Eddie,” You say with finality before letting yourself into your apartment.

Once you’ve gone inside, dejection overtakes Eddie’s features. “Goodnight,” he mutters to himself, biting the inside of his cheek.

Sifting through the mental archive of wisdom passed down by Wayne, Eddie desperately rummages for any guidance that could apply to his current situation.

Eddie has officially had the world’s worst date, and it very well could be the only one he’ll ever get to go on. It only hurts more that the outcome was entirely his fault.

You’re avoiding him, that much is obvious. You stopped showing up to do laundry together and while he performs, you intentionally keep your back turned to the stage.

After your Saturday shifts end, you no longer stick around to hang out with Eddie, instead choosing to leave with your fellow waitresses.

One would think that it was a tough decision, but it makes perfect sense to him. Eddie gives up playing on Saturdays to avoid crossing paths with you. He reverts to his old spot on Thursday nights.

It’s a way to protect himself while making things easier for you. He can’t fathom how repulsed you are by his presence at this point.

Eddie sits at the folding table in his living room, his feet hooked with one another. The blaring thrash metal fills the room as he meticulously drafts tattoo concepts, completely absorbed in his sketchbook.

The incessant ringing of the telephone hardly cuts through the music. Eddie ignores it for the first two rings and lets out a reluctant huff before pausing the tape and picking up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy, can you come get me?” Your cheerful request weaves through the lively chatter and honking car horns in the background.

Not having seen you in two weeks, your voice hits him like a wall. “What for?”

“M’ready to go home.”

Eddie reads his watch and leans against the wall. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“You know what, forget it. I’ll just walk home.”

“Absolutely fucking not. What bar are you at?”

“Errr, The Dugout I think.”

“Stay put, alright? Wait for me inside, I’ll be there in a few,” After hanging up, he recklessly shoves his feet into his Reeboks and snatches his car keys from the counter.

Eddie arrives, expecting you to be inside. But there you are, sitting on the curb, right where you shouldn’t be. He calls out to you and jogs over, dodging a few bar-goers on the way.

At first, you turn your head the wrong way when you hear your name called. When you spot him, you scramble upright. “You came for me!” Excitedly, you raise your hands above your head and it slightly throws off your balance.

“Holy shit, you’re plastered,” Eddie half-scoffs, half-laughs. His eyes roam your body, and he immediately takes notice of your scraped and bloodied knees. “Jesus, what happened?”

“Huh?” you ask, your drunken buoyancy unaffected by his evident concern. Following his guided point, you simply shrug. “I dunno, can’t remember.”

“You’re not here by yourself, are you?” Eddie scans the area, looking for any signs of someone accompanying you.

“Mmm... no, well yes. My girlfriends were here but they left.”

Eddie scoffs, “You’ve got some shitty friends.”

“Good thing I have you. My very own knight in shining armor is here to rescue me!”

“That tower of yours must’ve had quite the mini bar, princess,” Eddie remarks.

“Let’s go,” Eddie instructs, heading toward his van with the assumption that you’re following. Peeking over his shoulder, you’re practically tripping over your own feet.

The long strap of your purse slides off your shoulder, snags on your bent elbow, and the bag thuds against your calf.

“What am I gonna do with you, hmm?” He steps back, takes hold of your purse, and throws it over his shoulder. Then, he wraps his arm around your waist and holds you snugly to his side, determined to get you home safely by whatever means necessary. After helping you into the passenger seat, he reaches over to fasten your seatbelt. “No hurling in here, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you salute before sitting back so that your head is supported by the headrest.

Getting you up the stairs was the hard part. He unlocks the apartment door and gently steers you toward the bathroom.

You make a feeble attempt to resist, grasping onto the door frame before finally yielding to your waning strength.

Eddie lets go of you and begins to rummage in search of supplies.

“Okay, Eddie Bear. I’m ready for my bath,” You slur, leaning against the wall for support as you start to ease yourself into the tub.

“Eddie Bear, huh? That’s new,” he snorts before glancing over. “Oh, no you don’t. C’mere,” Eddie grasps you by the waist once more, guiding you to sit on the closed toilet seat.

With both hands, he cradles your booze-warmed cheeks, unintentionally pushing your lips into a pout. “Stay put, would ya?”

Mumbling to himself, Eddie goes back to gathering the first aid supplies. “I look away for two goddamn seconds. Nothing but trouble, I swear.”

The pout doesn’t leave your face and you cross your arms with an annoyed huff. As the seconds pass, it's as though there’s elevator music playing in your head while you wait for something to happen.

Eddie crouches at your feet. “So, what’s your justification for getting shit-faced on a weeknight?” The tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips as he begins wiping away the dried blood on your knees with a damp cloth.

“Boys are dumb, that’s why.”

“I know, aren’t they just the worst?” Eddie concurs with a hum. He stands to rinse the cloth, washes his hands, and then fully gets to his knees on the tile floor to apply ointment.

“Yeah, they are,” Your voice trails off as you look at his fingers resting firmly on your thigh, just above your knee, to prevent any inadvertent movement.

Engrossed in your own little world, you start humming an improvised tune. “Like them so much,” you sing-song to yourself.

Eddie glances up at you briefly. “What’s that?”

“Your hands,” you explain and poke each of his knuckles with your index finger. “You’ve got such nice fingies.”

“Fingies?” Eddie smiles as he secures bandages over both of your knees. He withdraws his touch from your thigh and he takes hold of your hand, turning it palm-side up.

“Mhm, the nicest.”

“Yours are nice too,” he comments as he cleans the scrape on the heel of your hand. As Eddie admires the intricate lines and wrinkles across your palm, he inadvertently brushes the cloth directly against your wound.

You make a high-pitched fuss in reaction to the sudden contact, reflexively pulling your hand away.

“Shit, sorry,” Eddie apologizes earnestly. He applies the ointment before applying a bandage. Rising to his feet, he theatrically brushes off his hands. “There, good as new.”

You reach out to him in a toddler-like manner and make grabby hands at him.

Eddie laughs and leans against the door frame. “I’m not carrying you. Brush your teeth so we can get you into bed.”

“You’re no fun,” you groan while you stand awkwardly, the bandages restricting full movement. You wet your toothbrush and squeeze toothpaste onto it, making sure to shoot a scowl at Eddie as you do.

After lackadaisically brushing your teeth, you plop the brush back into its cup. “There, squeaky clean. Happy?”

“As a clam,” Eddie says with a grin. He steps back to allow you out of the bathroom. “Go put your PJs on.”

With a dismissive wave, you drag your feet to your room and begin to dig through your dresser drawer.

Just as he’s about to start picking up after himself, he’s interrupted.

“Eddie,” You call out defeatedly.

“Yeah?” When he doesn’t receive an immediate response, he cautiously steps into the doorway of your room. There you stand, still wearing your dress.

“I can’t reach it,” You say, turning your back to him and bowing your head slightly, signaling that you need his assistance.

Eddie swallows hard and mutters under his breath, “Right, the zipper,” Stepping into the room, his hands start to tremble.

Now positioned behind you, he carefully takes hold of the small piece of metal. Despite the trembling, Eddie tries his best not to make contact with your skin as it’s revealed by the descending zipper.

Dizziness consumes him as his eyes flit between your shoulder blades. Once your dress is completely unzipped, Eddie takes a significant step backward, putting distance between the two of you. “Is that all you need?”

You return to sifting through your pajama options. “I think so.”

Eddie retreats to the bathroom. The image of your bare back is seared into his memory, he’s just gonna have to live with it etched into his mind forever.

After regaining his composure, he locates some aspirin and fills a drinking glass with water. “Are you decent?” Eddie asks hesitantly, not daring to step closer to the threshold without receiving confirmation.

“Uh huh,” You mumble, flopping onto your bed and committing to the first position you land in.

Holding the cup of water and two tablets of pain relief, Eddie re-enters your bedroom. He finds you sprawled and droopy-eyed lying on your back.

Eddie’s chunky metal rings clink against the glass when he sets it down on your nightstand. “I think you’ll appreciate this little visit from the aspirin fairy come morning. You’re gonna feel like shit.”

“Okay,” you murmur, your attention glued to how his strong nose casts a shadow on his cheek in the glow of your bedside lamp. Flipping onto your side facing the door, you yawn and stretch your toes.

Eddie gathers the jumbled blanket from the other side of the bed and drapes it over you, covering you up to your shoulders with care.

Although he wants to, he refrains from tucking you in, concerned that you might trip or get more hurt if you need to get up. “Well, goodnight.”

Just as Eddie turns to leave, your weak grasp seizes his hand before he’s out of reach. It stops him in his tracks, and his gaze follows the path from your joined hands, tracing up your arm until his eyes meet yours.

Fighting to keep your eyes open, you’re teetering on the edge of consciousness. “I don’t want you to go.”

He returns without needing any further invitation and sits on the edge of the bed by your belly. Releasing his hand, you rub your eye before tucking your fist beside your head.

Looking down at you affectionately, a grin graces Eddie’s face. He watches as your eyelids flutter closed, and your breathing becomes slow and steady. “Such a sleepy girl.”

With your eyes cemented closed, you adjust your head on the pillow before drifting off to sleep. Eddie stays put for a minute or two, simply admiring you. He’s never seen something so precious.

His heartbeat rattles his ribs, just as it did the first time he saw you waitressing at Double Barrel. That static-like tingling plagues his extremities as an old thought resurfaces. In those conversations where you shared your life stories, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be kissed by you.

Eddie’s eyes brim with tears at the fact that his presence is solely due to your inebriation, and this closeness it’s about to expire. “God,” he exhales, rolling his eyes skyward to hold back his tears.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, pulling the blanket a touch higher over your shoulder. Then, he switches off the lamp and leaves you to rest.

Dwelling on the fact that you won’t remember tonight won’t do him any good. Getting this close to you would have never happened in sober circumstances. At least he got to take care of you in the way he always wanted, even if only for a short time.

Over the past few days, Eddie has been thinking about how he felt when you relied on him to get you home. He’s curious whether the call you made to him signifies that you still want him in your life. If that happens to be the case, then he can work with that.

Going through with this might worsen the sting of rejection, but Eddie has his heart set on mending things.

Within moments of entering the bar and scouring the room for you, he spots you conversing with Lee about a table’s order. Eddie begins to pat his thighs in an erratic rhythm as he feels his insides lurch.

As soon as Lee notices Eddie, he wraps up the conversation and gets back to work. You observe Eddie, noticing the hopefulness on his face as he strides across the room. “Do you need something?”

“Not necessarily. I was wondering if I could uh, make you dinner or something?” Eddie kicks one foot with the other and totters back and forth in place.

Your expression changes to one of disbelieving annoyance. “I can slap together a PB&J at home, but thanks.”

“No, no. I’m serious, I’ll make whatever you want,” Eddie insists.

“What for?”

Eddie briefly looks away, scratching at the nape of his neck. “I miss hanging out with you.”

“I don’t know,” You ponder with uncertainty, your gaze monitoring the occupied tables in case you’re needed.

“Let me cook for you. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

His pleading eyes wear you down. “Fine, when?”

A bright smile spreads across Eddie’s face, stretching from ear to ear. He bounces on his tiptoes with enthusiasm. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can set a time then.”

“Sure, yeah,” you respond, your attention diverted to a booth on the far side of the room where the seated customers wave you over. “Look, I gotta go.”

You’re already back in work mode and walking away before Eddie can say anything else. He just stands there, incapable of shrinking his smile to a mere grin.

Bowing his head, Eddie pumps his fists at his sides in a moment of triumph. With the opportunity for redemption sitting in his lap, he has his heart set on making things right.

In the days leading up to the agreed-upon dinner, Eddie makes several trips to the library, hunting for a recipe for the meal you mentioned. He dips into his emergency savings to purchase extra ingredients, dedicating his time and money to practice making it.

The first go around, he forgot to add two crucial ingredients, resulting in a bland and tasteless dish. Eddie couldn’t let it go to waste, so he settled for the less-than-impressive dinner that night.

On the second attempt, he tried to compensate for the previous mistake by adding more than enough seasoning. He didn’t exactly do it on purpose; it poured out of the canister much faster than Eddie expected. Regrettably, that meal went straight into the trash. Eddie couldn’t stomach a forkful of it.

Eddie absolutely, positively cannot fuck this one up. He can’t afford to, both figuratively and literally. Without a doubt, if he serves you a shit dinner, you’ll push him out of your life for good.

When you knock on the front door, the perceived silence on the other side of the door is broken with a clatter and muffled cursing. The quiet resumes and hangs in the air for a couple of seconds before the door swings open.

There stands Eddie, hair a little tousled. “Hello, hello!”

His stomach does somersaults at the sight before him; your clothes accentuate your figure, and your skirt suits you. Once again, you look stunning and appropriately dressed for a date.

Meanwhile, Eddie doesn’t have many options to choose from. The most formal thing he owns is a button-up shirt and it’s too dressy, but it’s all he has. Paired with it are his holeless black jeans. Before today, he never thought it was possible to be both over and underdressed at the same time.

“Come on in,” Eddie says, stepping aside with reluctance, allowing you to enter his apartment.

As soon as he opened the door to you, his mind turned into a whirlwind of second-guessing himself. The shirt is definitely too formal, but Eddie wants to prove that he knows it’s a date this time, and he means for it to be one. If only he owned an iron so that the material wasn’t as wrinkly as it is.

He wants to prove that he can clean up nicely, evident from the scent of aftershave and cologne. Eddie meticulously clipped his fingernails and tidied his eyebrows, ensuring that he is as presentable as possible.

“This is my castle,” He gestures to the space.

The entirety of the afternoon was spent tidying up and Eddie couldn’t bear to leave a single surface undusted. Any potentially embarrassing materials were tucked away and he washed all of his dirty dishes.

As you enter and survey his studio apartment, he takes the opportunity to rake through his bangs with his fingers. You spot his sketchbook sprawled open on the guitar amp and pick it up.

“Oh, those are nothing, you don’t have to-” Eddie moves forward and reaches out, intending to retrieve the drawing pad, but pauses when you point to the sketch he recently finished.

“This one,” you trace the lines of the drawing with your finger before looking over at him. “I’d get this one.”

“You’d let me give you ink?” There’s a hint of insecurity and surprise in his voice as he subtly retrieves the sketchbook from your grasp.

“Maybe. It depends if you’re still shit at it,” you shrug casually, interlocking your hands behind your back as you assess the living room area. Your attention falls on the antique bookshelf, adorned with miscellaneous items and framed photos. “Has Cliff let you take clients yet?”

“No, you’d be my first real canvas,” Eddie admits.

As you continue looking around, his gaze is one beat ahead of yours. His eyes land on it just before yours do, and his stomach drops upon spotting the one thing he forgot to hide.

“Oh my god!” You squeal, rushing over to the couch and scooping up Mr. Pickles. “Who’s this cutie?”

Pale as a ghost, Eddie stares blankly back at you. How the fuck did he forget to hide the one thing on this planet that rids him of all masculinity.

“I’ll introduce you another time,” Eddie silently urges you to put Mr. Pickles back in his spot, desperately hoping you’ll never bring it up again.

In actuality, he should be thanking himself for the oversight, because you look far more high-spirited than when you stood outside his door.

“I’m looking forward to it,” You brush over the matted fur on the bunny’s head before carefully placing him back on the sofa.

The tension dissipates on his body as he picks up on the change in your energy. It’s reminiscent of how happy you were to see him when you were drunk. But this time is different; it’s genuine, rather than influenced by alcohol.

You’re lured into the kitchen by the incredible aroma, and the steaming food matches the enticing smell. “There’s no way in hell you made that.”

“You bet your ass I did,” Eddie retorts with his hands on his hips while he makes his way from the front door to the kitchen.

You step closer to him. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before,” you purr, inching closer until your toes nearly make contact with his socked ones. With featherlight pressure, you place a tender kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Eddie’s internal circuits fry as he tries to process the fact that he just got kissed on the cheek for the first time. His lungs refuse their vital function, denying him oxygen. He retreats by half a step, attempting to mask the blazing rosiness of his face.

“For god’s sake, I’m so sick of whatever this stupid game is.”

“What game? I’m not-” Eddie panics.

“You get me to throw myself at you by doing thoughtful shit like this, but when I finally make a move, you act revolted.”

“I swear to Christ I’m not playing with you. I mean, I’m not trying to,” Eddie explains, his words jumbling together. “I know I've been making a total ass of myself, and tonight was supposed to fix that. But I just- I keep screwing up because I like you and you make me so nervous.”

You scoff, halfway turned toward the door. “That’s hard to believe. You flinch if I so much as bump into you. You don’t want to touch me, I get it.”

A pang of guilt hits him like a baseball bat to the stomach. “No no no, I do! I wanna touch you,” Eddie admits. “Look, you mean so goddamn much to me. You deserve someone who can make you feel good, and I can’t do that.”

Still guarded, you sound agitated but you turn to face him nonetheless. “What are you talking about?”

His voice lowers, a whisper of shame. “I don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman. Nobody wants to fuck the dorky virgin, y’know?” Eddie’s vision blurs from the tears veiling his vision.

You frown at the vulnerable quiver in his voice. “I do, I’ve been wanting to.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t be able to make you cum.”

“I have to disagree with you on that. You’re a fast learner,” You extend your hand to him at waist height.

Eddie stares at your outstretched hand, struggling to process the gesture. He holds his breath, torn between his anxiety and trust. Cautiously, he places his hand in yours.

The benevolent hold pulses a flash flood through his being, the frigid water jolting his systems alive. When you intertwine your fingers with his, the clamminess is evident against the softness of your palm. Insecurity floods him, worried that you’ll be repulsed by it.

Cracks of lightning electrify Eddie’s heart, rendering him unable to meet your gaze. Instead, he focuses intensely on your joined hands. “I have no idea what I'm doing though.”

“That’s okay,” you assure him with a confident smile. Giving his hand a slight squeeze, you add, “See, not so scary anymore, right?”

Eddie shakes his head, even though fear is still coursing through his veins. You pick up on his hesitation and knowing that he won’t do it himself, you guide his hand to your hip and leave it there.

He sort of caresses, not out of boldness, but seeking to alleviate the numbness in his fingers. The sensation has already spread to other parts of his body.

Your patient expression, graced with a grin, grows into a bright smile when you meet his eyes. Eddie’s confidence blossoms, and he uses his other hand to cradle your cheek.

Acquainting himself with the contours of your face, his thumb strokes lightly from beneath your eyes and along your cheekbone. He starts to smile too as his nerves give way to the feeling of reassurance.

As you tilt your head into his touch, your eyelids flutter closed, and you grasp at the loose sides of his shirt, pulling him closer. He steps forward willingly, but his voice retains an uncertain tone. “I really wanna kiss you, but I’ve never, uh…”

You lean in, and the tip of your nose gently brushes against his. The thundering of his heart in his ears drowns out everything but your voice.

“Close your eyes and follow my lead, okay?” The warmth of your breath encircles his lips, turning his knees to jelly.

Eddie can’t even whisper a confirmation. At your request, he closes his eyes, leaving him solely reliant on his other senses. The smoothness of your lips against his registers as a gentle peck with just enough pressure for him to feel it. It lingers, and he finds himself incapable of moving his lips in response.

“Want another?”

With his eyes still closed, he murmurs, “Yes, please.”

Devilishly, you press a kiss to his wrist, the hand that is still gently cradling your face.

Eddie’s eyes open, a pout and a scowl simultaneously forming his reaction. “Nu-uh, right here,” he insists, leaning in eagerly. He’s caught up in the desire to feel it again but he’s still hesitant to initiate the kiss himself.

You happily close the gap and this time, Eddie slightly purses his lips against yours, doing his best to follow your lead. After giving it a few tries, he feels you withdraw but his head instinctively follows, chasing your lips.

His eyes swirl with affection as he grapples for something to say, feeling breathless and dumb. “Fuck, I don’t wanna stop doing that.”

“Then don’t.”

Finally, Eddie’s able to pursue, but only a fraction of a second before you. With determination, his pecks carry more verve. It’s easier than he thought it would be; granted, he can rely on his ability to keep a steady rhythm, a perk of being a musician.

Eddie didn’t think this could get any better—that is until your lips slot perfectly between his, wet and warm. He pauses, malfunctioning once more. As you kiss him deeply, his mind is dusted in a golden haze and it feels as though he’s floating within himself. Enveloped by the sensation of your hands on his collarbones, a soft noise escapes him.

Mortified, Eddie freezes. Instead of deterring you, it only spurs you on. You wrap your arms around his neck and mold your body against his. The intensity of the kiss only escalates, he’s chasing your storm, matching your every move.

Your fingers entwine in the curls at the nape of his neck, coaxing more noises from him. Eddie is so far gone that he’s unaware of the growing bulge in his jeans. His hand leaves your cheek, traces down your shoulder, and along the outside of your arm before clinging to your waist with both hands.

You hover over his lips, a stream of electricity fizzling between you. “Is it okay if I take my shirt off?”

Eddie forgets to respond but then nods fervently. With curious eyes, he watches intently as you lift your shirt, unveiling skin he’s never seen before.

He inhales and exhales shakily as your necklace falls back into its place against your chest. It’s not a swinging pocket watch, but Eddie is entranced nonetheless.

“You said you wanna touch me,” you draw his trembling hands up your sides. “Now’s your chance.”

Eddie’s hands ascend and meet the silky band of your bra, and you guide his palms forward to the plush foam padding. Your reassuring hold is encouraging, but Eddie tears his stare from your breasts to check-in. He finds you already looking at him, exuding a sweet demeanor. “Give it a try.”

Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs in the thick column of his throat, his hands unmoving beneath yours.

“Like this,” You squeeze your hands twice before removing your guidance and allowing him to proceed at his own pace.

Adrenaline motivates him to cup them independently this time, and his cock twitches as he commits to the action.

“You’re doing great by the way,” You offer a smile.

Growing more confident, Eddie applies more pressure. His thumbs move in tandem, brushing over the area where your nipples are concealed. The innocent delight in his eyes burns dark into frustration after a few squeezes. Eddie huffs in annoyance at the fact that he’s only getting handfuls of padding.

“Easy, tiger. Want this off too?”

Heartened by the lack of ridicule, he feels safe. Regardless, Eddie fails to articulate more than a few words, his heart lodged in his throat. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Come sit,” You suggest, taking his hand in yours to lead him to sit on the edge of the bed.

As he sits, Eddie thanks himself for having washed his sheets for tonight, despite never imagining that this would happen.

When you release his hand, both of them return to the plush of your waist, making himself at home there. The straps of your unhooked bra drape loosely on your arms, and his pupils dilate as the foam cups gradually gain distance from your body.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says under his breath, his bottom lip shining after a swift swipe of his tongue.

Your hips receive an involuntary squeeze as his patience begins to waver. He then slides his hands back up to your ribs, using his thumb followed by the heel of his palms to graze the bottom of your breasts.

With a sigh of relief, Eddie no longer has to daydream about what they might look like. His beautiful brown eyes roam over your body like you’re a masterpiece, a sculpture carved from stone solely for him to admire endlessly. Savoring the moment, he takes his time to appreciate every second. Eddie doesn’t take your trust for granted.

After a minute or two, you scoot backward onto the mattress toward the pillows. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

He watches you recline half-naked on his bed, and his belly swirls at the sight. Eddie follows suit, crawling to you. Now positioned between your legs, Eddie hesitates as he looks down at you, your hips not making any contact.

His touch resumes at your waist, but this time he’s stroking the expanse of your tummy; it inadvertently brings comfort to both you and him. Until this moment, he’s never had the chance to see the tiny details on your face up close—the distinct aspects that compose your sheer beauty.

Eddie’s hazelnut curls hang over his ears as his gaze trails over your neck and chest. His intense adoration makes you want to hide, but the unease is melted away when he captures your lips with his own. Eddie feels like it’s already been too long since he last kissed you, the deprivation like that of extreme thirst.

Goosebumps prickle his fully dressed form, a surge of belonging filling the cracks in the surface of his heart. Timid pecking is a thing of the past, each kiss more fervid than the one before it. The wet click of your lips drowns out the inhibitions buzzing in his ears.

Eddie’s large hand paws at your breast, his thumb playing with your pebbled nipple, drawing a whine from the back of your throat. You tug him closer by his jeans, bringing his hips down against yours. Regardless of the denim barrier, this causes a change in him. When you lift your hips against Eddie, he grinds back just as needily.

As your lips part, he begins a trail of affection along your cheek, jaw, and down your neck. When Eddie reaches your collarbones, his mouth moves hurriedly. He’s itching to fulfill the longing that’s been something he’s imagined plenty of times before. Kissing every inch in his descent, Eddie hunches over and takes your nipple into his mouth.

The melodious sound that pours from you makes him painfully harder. His cock strains against the metal zipper of his jeans, fighting to defy the taut material. You arch into his mouth, and Eddie continues to grind against the apex of your thighs.

He licks his way across to give much-needed attention to your opposite breast, all the while maintaining stimulation on the other with his thumb. Eddie suckles and flicks his tongue, his breath hitting your bare skin like a sweltering midsummer heat wave.

The reciprocity of sincerity is blowing his mind; the way it feels to have your hands weaving through his hair. There’s a slight tug when your fingers catch on a knot, and the sting only fans the flames burning in his lower belly.

Eddie releases your nipple, leaving it bereft of the heat of his mouth. Following his previously explored path up your chest and neck, he bashfully looks into your eyes. “Could I, uh, kiss you down there, too?”

“Normally I’d have to ask for head. Are you sure?”

The melted milk chocolate of his irises practically drips off of his lashes as he blinks at you. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

“I’m not entirely convinced,” You coax him playfully.

“I’ll just have to prove how starving I am then, won’t I?” Eddie quips, moving out of the way to remove your skirt. As he does, the waistband slips from your hips and he slides it off your legs.

You’re in nothing but your panties and the white cotton is not particularly sexy, but they sure are familiar. That day at the laundromat, Eddie never imagined he’d see you in this exact pair at some point. He wonders if you did.

His fingertips tap their way up your thighs until they reach the band of your underwear. You look so cute with your hands resting across your belly like an awaiting princess—his princess.

Much like the skirt before it, the garment is tugged down the curvature of your legs. Your knees knock together as your legs reflexively close. Meanwhile, Eddie is mesmerized by the damp patch on panties hanging from his fist.

“You wanna keep 'em?”

Eddie nods with feigned innocence. These would go to good use, he thinks.

“They’re all yours,” You grant his wish.

“I feel so spoiled,” he says while tucking them into his back pocket for safekeeping. Then, Eddie redirects his attention to the living art laid out before him. “Especially for getting to see you like this,” he drags his fingertips along the outside of your calves until they reach your knees.

Your legs fall open, proudly putting your glistening cunt on display for him.

“Fuck,” Eddie says, moon-eyed. He repositions himself between your legs, lying on his stomach. Drool pools on his tongue, his mouth just inches away from your body. With one arm wrapped under your thigh, Eddie uses a finger on his free hand to collect the wetness that’s all for him.

“Don’t be a tease,” You fuss.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Eddie responds, ready to put his new skill to use. It starts with a testing press of his lips against your clit. He works his way lower, mouthing at you messily, making out with your cunt. Eddie licks his lips and rests his cheek against your inner thigh. “Can I use my fingers too?”

“Yeah, just take it slow,” You gather his hair and keep it out of his face so it doesn’t get in the way.

Eddie glides two digits through your folds, admiring the way the pads of his fingers glisten with the mix of your slick and his spit. Slowly, he eases his two fingers into your entrance. They sink deeper without facing resistance, and you soak him down to his bottom knuckles. Eddie looks up at you from between your legs, amazed. “You’re so wet.”

You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze. “You own a mirror, don’t you? How could I not be.”

Flattered, Eddie smiles. He draws his fingers back before plunging them into you a little faster this time, though not by much. As you lay back and get comfortable, you instinctively roll your hips downward with each thrust of his fingers.

With his cheek still resting on the inside of your thigh, he’s unable to bring himself to speed up, downright mesmerized by the sensation of your velvety walls squeezing around his fingers. When he accidentally flexes and curls them upward, it elicits a pretty gasp from you.

Eddie’s gaze flits up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What was that?” he teases and does it again, deliberately. “Did you say something?”

You moan, “That feels amazing,” You run your hand up your belly to your breast, massaging yourself in tandem with his improved technique.

He finds a steady tempo, rubbing the spot that makes your nerves flare. With nothing else on his mind, Eddie is fully engrossed as he drives his digits into you. Your fingers suddenly appear before him to rub your clit for added stimulation.

“Oh my god,” You moan unabashedly, arching your back off of the bed in response to the heightened ecstasy.

“You like that?” Eddie looks up at you, feeling a rush of pride as you writhe.

“Yes- fuck, I’m almost there.”

Eddie boldly nudges your hand away with his nose, swiftly replacing your fingers with his tongue, flicking it passionately.

Your moans fill his ears as he laps at you, enjoying the way you taste when you unravel. He’s so in the zone that he fails to realize you’ve already reached your peak and become overstimulated.

You squirm in his grip, gently pushing his forehead away. “Eddie, Eddie!”

“Yeah?” His fingers stop abruptly, and he looks at you with doe-like eyes, your glossy sugar smeared all over his lips and chin.

“It’s too much,” You say exhaustedly.

“Shit, my bad,” Eddie frowns, disappointed that his fun has come to an end. He slowly withdraws his digits, admiring the way you’ve coated them. He drags his fingers down his tongue like your arousal is cake batter from a bowl. A low hum emanates from Eddie as he sucks them clean, inadvertently making a show of it. “God, your pussy tastes good. Even better than I dreamed it would.”

“Come here,” You beckon him, smiling blissfully.

Eddie wastes no time getting onto his hands and knees and crawls up between your legs. Hovering over you, he gazes into your eyes, cheeks dimpled. “I made you cum.”

“I can’t remember the last time I came that hard either,” you chuckle, noticing the sheen on his face. You grab your discarded shirt to wipe it off. “Here, let me-”

“No!” Eddie angles out of your reach, his brow furrowed. Using his still-sticky fingers, he wipes at his lips and chin, licking his digits clean once more. “Can’t let it go to waste.”

After you tuck his frizzy curls behind his ears, Eddie’s tender grin fades. Your hands slowly move down his pecs to his belt, and you tug at the metal buckle. Just as you free the leather from the prong, he stops you.

“Uh- wait.” The hesitance in his voice brings your pursuit to a halt. The way you shrink back causes his heart to squeeze.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to go all the way if you’re not ready.”

“It’s not that. Believe me,” Eddie reassures you. He brings a hand to the side of your face and strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m just worried that you’ll never wanna see me again ‘cause I'm so terrible in bed.”

Your shoulders raise and lower with the deep breath that you take. “You said you want to make me feel good, right?”

“More than anything,” Eddie declares in a heartbeat.

“Your cock would.”

Eddie nearly shudders and his voice burns raspy. “Yeah? You want it?”

You hook your fingers through his belt loops and tug, staring back at him intensely. “Not want. I need you inside me.”

“Christ,” he gulps and presses his hips forcefully against yours, dampening the denim. Eddie lowers his mouth to your shoulder and kisses it. “I wanna know what it feels like so bad.”

You turn your head and nibble his earlobe. “Let’s take care of that, shall we?” When your hands return to his partially undone belt, Eddie doesn’t intervene this time.

“I don’t have protection though.”

Blindly, you unbutton and unzip his jeans. “Side pocket of my purse.”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away and awkwardly scoots backward off the bed. His pants hang low on his slender hips, exposing the snug elastic band of his blue plaid boxers. After finding the condom, he inspects it. “I have no fucking clue how to use this.”

Sitting up, you hold your hand out. “I can put it on you if you want.”

Eddie hands it to you, then it occurs to him that he’s still fully dressed. While you’re tearing the foil package, he yanks down his jeans and kicks them away, his belt jangling. Only a few buttons are undone from the neck before he gets impatient. Eddie tears his shirt over his head, leaving his mane disheveled.

He pulls at the waistband of his precum-soaked boxers indecisively, but the sight of your beautiful naked body reminds him that it’s only fair. Eddie pulls them down and his anxiety has caused him to go partially soft. When you look at him, he wishes the world would swallow him whole.

Your eyes rake across his slim frame, then meet his eyes instead of drifting below his waist. Eddie climbs back onto the bed, sitting on his haunches. You crawl onto your knees to join him and pull his body against yours, kissing him.

Mumbling against your lips, he tries to apologize for already failing you by being unable to stay hard, but his words falter as the kiss deepens, his worries becoming an afterthought. Eddie grips your waist, and the sensation of your breasts pressing against his bare chest makes him feel woozy. As soon as you break the kiss, he’s immediately filled with fear once more. “If it’s small or it looks weird, don’t tell me.”

You effectively distract him from his insecurities by trailing your lips down his pulse, dragging your teeth along the supple skin there. Eddie grips your ass harshly, a shaky sound pouring from his throat as you kiss your way down his body. He watches, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

As you finally look at his shy cock, you run your palms up and down the sparse hair on his outer thighs. “You’re the perfect size for me,” You compliment him with a smile.

“I am?”

You suck a bruise on the pale skin of his waist. “Yeah, you are.”

Eddie’s eyes close, his hands resting on your shoulders as he focuses on the sensation of you licking and biting him. Lost in the feeling rather than inside of his head, Eddie’s cock gradually rouses.

Having previously set it aside, you grab the condom. “Hold it still for me, please.”

“O-Okay,” he secures it at the base, his palm covering the trimmed thatch of curls. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” With one hand, you fit the band around the tip, and with your other, you roll the latex down his shaft. That alone causes Eddie’s mouth to fall open, a ghosted moan tumbling from his lips.

“There, easy peasy,” Sitting back up and wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him flush against you. His wrapped, twitching cock is trapped between your bodies. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m not sure I could if I tried,” Eddie says, his eyes flitting between yours. “Is this really happening?”

“It’s happening,” After kissing the tip of his nose, you settle back bringing him down with you to get comfortable, your head resting on the pillow.

Eddie returns to the previous position, this time with your legs hiked around his hips, causing his cock to rub against your mound. Afraid of poking around too much, he asks, “Would you do the honors, m’lady?”

“Why, of course,” you say with a giggle. You guide the head of his cock right where it needs to be and look into Eddie’s eyes. “Go ahead.”

He swallows hard and inches his hips forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance. Eddie sinks until he’s halfway sheathed by the hot embrace of your cunt. As he pushes the rest of the way in, his jaw falls slack.

“You doing okay?” You soothingly stroke the bulging veins on his forearms.

“Mhm,” Eddie mumbles with his lips rolled inward. After a few seconds without moving, he draws his hips back and then drives them forward. The moan that rips from his chest is unholy.

After two or three agonizingly slow and experimental thrusts, the motion comes naturally to him after all that practice he’s gotten from humping his poor pillow in this very spot. “Fuck me,” The hand that isn’t supporting Eddie’s weight fists at the bed sheets as he thrusts repeatedly, falling into a slow and steady pace. “Jesus fucking fuck.”

“Look at you go,” you moan out. “It feels amazing, doesn’t it?”

“Feels… god, you feel incredible,” Eddie grunts, propping himself up on both hands. His hair hangs down, swaying with the tempo of his hips. In this position, he can watch the bounce of your body with each thrust and he’s doing just that.

The grazing of your fingernails along his flexing hips throws off his pace. It weakens him, especially when you’re looking at him the way you are. Eddie is so consumed by the feeling of you wrapped around him that he can’t be self-conscious about the fact that he’s moaning every time he sinks back into you.

The shame of virginity has been lifted away as Eddie experiences this night of firsts with the girl he’s crazy about. Eddie is struggling to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second of this. He’s captivated by the way you’re watching his length disappear inside you over and over.

You look stunning lying on his pillow, anchoring his body to yours. Before tonight, he considered the concept of moaning someone's name to be cliché because it only happens in the movies. But Eddie’s had a change of heart because he can’t stop saying yours. It’s all of you right here, right now, all over, making a man out of him.

His muscles begin to tremble, and he lowers himself onto his forearms. Eddie rests his forehead against yours, his hips stuttering. “I’m so close, baby. I don’t wanna cum,” He slows his movement to stave off his orgasm.

“I want you to,” You express while gliding your hands down his muscular back.

“No,” Eddie protests, ceasing his thrusts entirely. “I want you to cum again first.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Are you shitting me? It’s always been about you,” he pulls back to look into your eyes. “I’d do anything for you, you’re so damn worth it.”

Just before you have the chance to respond, Eddie unexpectedly rolls his hips. With one hand, he thumbs at your clit, watching how your eyes roll back. He doesn’t even have to look down to see the mess you’re making because he can hear it.

Eddie’s moans dance with yours as he pushes his knees forward, adjusting the angle of his hips to mimic a ‘come hither’ motion. He knows he’s found the spot he discovered prior when your legs spasm around him. In response, Eddie rubs your clit harder.

The way your walls tighten makes it all that more difficult for him to hold back. He’s on the cusp, his abs tensing as he tries to fight it. Your hand flies above you to push against the headboard, your other one occupied with gripping his flexing waist.

“Cum for me,” Eddie growls, frustrated with himself as he teeters on the edge, just seconds away from spilling into the condom.

Your brows furrow and your eyes squeeze shut, a rush of air getting caught in your throat as you climax.

“Yeahhh, that’s it,” Eddie’s abdominal muscles tense to their limit. “Oh- fuck,” His voice pitches higher.

“I’m yours,” You moan prettily and guide him down, letting him bury his face in your neck to give his arms a well-deserved rest.

“All mine,” Eddie says between his labored breaths. He grips and lifts your hips while you kiss his shoulder. Losing their previous steadiness, his strokes become shorter and more sporadic. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m gonna cuh- uh- mmm.”

Eddie lets out a whimper as he delivers two unsteady thrusts before slamming his hips against you, burying himself as he orgasms. His ass tenses and ripples, the muscles contracting as he rides out his high.

Panting loudly, Eddie stills his movements completely and props himself up to look down at you. “Jesus Christ. After that, I wanna have you for dinner every day,” he says against your cheek before kissing it. “As a snack in the middle of the night,” Eddie adds, kissing your temple. “Shit, you’d be good for breakfast too. It’s the most important meal of the day, y’know.”

You let out a winded giggle, your bodies sticking together as he struggles to keep himself propped up.

“Sweetheart, can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” You tease and smile wide when he rolls his eyes and snorts.

Eddie takes your hand, flattening your palm against his chest so that you can feel how vigorously his heart is beating. “Is this what being in love feels like?” He asks tearfully.

“Yeah,” you nod, placing his hand over your own heart that’s thudding just as hard. “Just like this.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

★Tip Jar

tags: @nj01 @tlclick73 @foreveranexpatsposts @madelynraemunson

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 3 months

Text

bully masterlistִֶָ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab // gender neutral (two alternate versions for you to choose from) ⋆˙⟡ summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. is a bit dark in spaces, as it's about zb1 bullying you and leads to smut. so you've been (generally) warned. specific chapter warnings will be provided on each post.

dividers are all by saradika and mdni banner below is by cafekitsune !!

— MONDAY, Kim Jiwoong 🎭

posted: 1/22/24

it's monday, the first day of the school week. you're excited for your advanced drama class, but not too keen on the person you're always forced to run into there. suave, charismatic, repulsively arrogant: kim jiwoong lives to make your life just a bit harder.

and lucky you: today he's your scene partner.

— TUESDAY, Zhang Hao 🎻

posted: 1/27/24

happy tuesday, you know what that means: two straight hours of wind ensemble. and it's made even more enjoyable by first chair, zhang hao, chewing you out for every mistake you make. he's been quiet today though. it's making your skin crawl.

can you manage to get out unscathed?

— WEDNESDAY, Seok Matthew 💪

posted: 2/5/24

it's hump day... *ahem*. unfortunately you're being forced to play contact sports under the leadership of team captain matthew seok. no matter how many times he's made a fool of you in front of your whole gym class, it never gets old for him.

oh shit. uh, (y/n)? you might wanna duck...

— THURSDAY, Sung Hanbin 📝

posted: 2/16/24

thursday. good news: the week is almost over. bad news: you're stuck in poetry class with sung hanbin as your desk partner. it's weird. sometimes you play off each other so well, you're nearly blindsided by his sudden flipping of the switch.

if only you could steal a glimpse at his journal.

— FRIDAY, Kim Taerae 🎤

posted: 3/2/24

it's the end of the most bizarre week of your life. last year, you would've been overjoyed to spend time in select choir with your friend kim taerae. but that all went down the drain after hanbin recruited him into his group of incessant jerks...

and he's desperate to officially be one of the guys.

— SATURDAY, Reclamation 😈

posted: 3/21/24

nearly every student is gathered for your university's big soccer match against your rival school. you're hoping to steer clear of the boys you've had such strange (and steamy) encounters with this week. i think you can guess by now that fate is not on your side.

or is it?

— THE ENDINGS, You Choose How It Ends 💕

posted: 3/21/24

choose from jiwoong, hao, matthew, hanbin, taerae, group (quasi-poly), and group (revenge)

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 2 months

Note

Hi omg i absolutely love your work so much!! Literally had to turn on notifications just for you🩷 i wanted to request an enemies to lovers trope with ethan (but kinda slowburn) where he is really nice and shy/dorky with the rest of the group & rude to y/n specifically because he feels like thats the only way to get her attention. He walks in on her changing but leaves quickly due to embarrassment & a few days later just confesses during an argument and it ends in smut. Lots of angst & tension pls pls thank you so much🥲

Hiii! I hope you like it!

Holding on to You - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Ethan thinks he needs to be a jackass to get your attention. After months of dealing with his annoying ways, he confesses how he feels.

Contains: fluff, angst, use of pet names, mean!ethan, dry humping, riding, p in v sex. (If I missed anything, let me know!)

A/N: Apparently if I get stoned and listen to Twenty One Pilots, I write longer fics lmao. 3.7k words...jeez.

When Chad and Ethan needed a new roommate, and you hated yours, you decided to take Chad up on his offer for you to move in. Yeah, living with two boys wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Well, Chad wasn’t as bad as you thought he would be. Ethan on the other hand, loved to do things to piss you off.

As you stood at the sink doing your own dishes, Ethan walked by and dropped a bowl in the sink.

“Seriously?” you asked, looking over at him.

“What? You’re already doing dishes.”

Chad walked in the room before you could say anything else to Ethan. He smirked at you as Chad started to speak.

“Hey dude, you want to go with me to get the pizza for tonight?” he asked. You were having your friends over, and you were happy to have an interaction with someone that wasn’t a guy.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, sitting a cup in the sink, too.

“I’m not doing all your dishes, Ethan!” you yelled, as he and Chad made their way to the door.

He turned around to look at you again, flashing a smile before walking out.

The way Ethan acted was infuriating sometimes. He was completely different in the presence of everyone else, but when it was just the two of you, he was so rude.

When your friends started to arrive after Chad and Ethan got back, you were grabbing plates out of the cabinet when Ethan walked up behind you.

“Let me take these. I wouldn’t want all of them to get shattered,” he said, reaching over you and grabbing the stack. You huffed as he sat them down on the counter.

“I wouldn’t have broken them,” you mumbled, looking up at him.

“You just broke one last week!”

“Well, if you didn’t stack so many plates on the top shelf so only you’re giraffe-looking ass was able to reach them, maybe it wouldn’t have happened,” you snapped, grabbing the plates off the counter and carrying them out to the living room.

“Thank you,” Chad said as you sat the plates down.

“Yeah, thank you,” Ethan said as he followed you out, the sweetness in his voice making you want to gag.

As you all sat around eating, Tara brought up needing help for one of her classes.

“I can help you,” Ethan said, “I took that class already.”

“Let me guess, you had the highest grade in the class?” Mindy asked, already knowing the answer.

“I can’t help that I have a photographic memory,” he said, taking a bite of his food. “But seriously, if you need my help, let me know.”

You were quiet as you focused on your phone, trying to distract yourself from Ethan. You hated that he could be so nice to everyone else but was a total dick to you. It was disappointing because at one point, you thought he was sweet. The kindness and the fact that he was tall and very attractive was starting to draw you in, but then his personality just flipped one day.

“Why are you being so quiet?” Tara asked you, as you scrolled through your phone.

“I got a text from my ex earlier. Still an asshole,” you sighed, “But he’s been liking all my Instagram photos that he unliked when we broke up.”

“Don’t give him another chance, please,” Mindy begged, “He treats you like shit.”

Your cheeks started to turn pink as you sat there. You didn’t want to directly tell them that you were considering it, but the knowing look on Chad’s face confirmed that you were doing a bad job at hiding it.

“Seriously? He’s going to be in here trying to square up with me and Ethan, because he’s an insecure idiot,” Chad said, his tone full of disappointment, “You know he’s not good for you.”

Ethan was really invested in the conversation happening in front of him. He’d always kind of hoped that you’d just tell him you were interested in him. The type of guys you normally went after was the reason he was being a jerk, after all. He’s always wanted your attention.

“That’s my type though, Chad,” you sighed sarcastically as he shook his head.

“Yeah, but you could go after a sweet guy, like my boy Ethan over here,” he said, gesturing to the curly-haired boy that started to blush. “He’s a snack, right?”

“That didn’t work when you pitched it to the cute girl at the Halloween Party, and it’s not going to work now,” you giggled, happy that you were able to make a little dig at Ethan since he always says rude things to you.

“That wasn’t nice. I think you’re a snack,” Chad said to Ethan, as Tara started to laugh at their bromance.

“At least someone does,” Ethan said, glancing over to you and looking down at his lap.

“I’m not saying you’re not attractive, Ethan,” you sighed, feeling guilty for being so mean, “I guess you are a snack.”

“Oh, am I sensing a love connection here?” Chad said in a horrible fake-British accent.

“I didn’t say that.”

As everyone started to leave for the night, you went in your room to change into your pajama shorts and a big t-shirt.

Just as you took off your jeans, shirt, and bra, the door to your room opened.

“Hey, you left your…” You grabbed your shirt you were about to change into and quickly covered yourself with it as Ethan stood there. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

When he turned around and pulled the door shut behind him, your cheeks turned bright red. The guy that loves be an ass to you had just seen you in nothing but your panties. You sighed as you pulled your shirt and shorts on and walked out to get some water.

You jumped when you saw a shadowy figure in the dark kitchen as you turned the corner.

“It’s just me,” Chad said, as you flipped the light switch.

“You scared the shit out of me!” you said, as he stood there eating some of the cold, leftover pizza. “Why are you eating in the dark?”

“Why are you so jumpy? That’s how Ethan was a minute ago when he walked in here,” he said, chewing his food. “He sat your phone on the counter, by the way.”

“Maybe we’re jumpy because you’re lurking in a dark kitchen,” you said, grabbing your phone.

“You’re probably right. Well, good night.”

As he walked back to his room, you pulled a cup out of the cabinet, getting some water. You couldn’t stop thinking about how awkward it was going to be to see Ethan again, which will happen eventually because he shares your living space.

That didn’t happen for several days, though. He intentionally avoided you, only coming out of his room if you weren’t home, or you were in your own room. It was starting to bother you, because even if he made you feel like shit before he walked in on you, he at least talked to you, and it was significantly less awkward.

When you walked out to the living room, you saw Chad and Ethan sitting on the couch watching tv. You flopped down a few cushions away from them, looking at the screen.

“Star Wars, huh? I wouldn’t expect anything less from you two dorks,” you joked, as Chad scoffed.

“You know, I used to think you were cool,” he said, throwing one of the decorative pillows at you.

You threw it back at him, hitting Ethan in the process.

“Hey!” he yelled, grabbing the pillow that eventually landed on Chad and threw it back at you.

“You know what we need? Snacks,” Chad said, standing up. He grabbed the remote to pause the movie. “Ethan, Cheetos?” he asked as Ethan nodded. “Do you want anything?” he asked you, walking towards the kitchen. “No, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. Maybe if your nice, Ethan will share his snacks.”

You laughed at his comment as you looked over to Ethan. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could feel the tension in the air. The only thing that came to your mind was that he was probably dying inside from not saying anything shitty to you for the last several days.

“What are you looking at?” he snapped, glancing over to you.

“There it is. I thought you were never going to be mean to me again.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t feel like I should have to speak to you,” he said, as Chad walked back in, completely missing Ethan’s comment. “Thanks, man,” he said, after Chad handed him the Cheetos.

He pressed play on the movie again, as you tried to get interested in it.

“That thing is kind of cute,” you said, pointing at the character.

“Jar Jar Binks is cute? That explains your taste in men,” Chad said, as Ethan started to laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, staring both of the boys down.

“He’s one of, if not THE, most hated Star Wars characters,” Ethan said, looking over to you. “Just like how every single guy you date is completely unlikable.”

“You don’t have to call me out like that,” you sighed, standing up to grab the blanket that was on back of the couch behind Ethan. “Can you sit up a little bit so I can grab this,” you said, tugging on the fluffy material.

“No, I’m comfortable like this,” he said, his tone playful because Chad was beside him.

“Please, I’m cold,” you whined, as he rolled his eyes and sat up.

You grabbed the blanket and snuggled back up in your spot. Ethan kept looking over to you, trying to be as discreet as possible about it. You caught his gaze, giving him a ‘What’ look, before looking back at the tv.

When the movie was over, Chad stood up. “I think I’m going to Tara’s. You guys want to come?”

“Yeah, like I want to be there while you try to put moves on my friend,” you said, as he shrugged.

“She’s cute. I can’t help it. Ethan, you coming?”

“I don’t want to be a third wheel,” he sighed, “I have stuff to work on anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll be back later,” Chad said, pulling his hoodie on.

When Chad left, Ethan got up to walk to his room.

“Hey,” you said, as he stopped and turned a little to look at you, “If you hate me so much, why did you agree to me moving in?”

“Because you can pay the rent,” he said, “Is this conversation over?”

“No, it’s not,” you stood up, as he fully turned back around. “What the fuck happened? Because you used to be nice to me. Then you started to treat me like every other guy ever has.”

“Yeah? What was that jab a few nights ago where you made me feel like a loser in front of our friends?” he started to raise his voice at you, “Because that wasn’t very nice.”

“I wanted you to know what it feels like, Ethan! You treat me like I’m stupid! You know how many times I’ve gone to my room and cried over some of the things you’ve said to me?” you were yelling at this point, the anger in his face softening as he started to feel guilty. “You used to be so sweet and caring, I miss that Ethan.”

“I couldn’t be like that anymore,” he sighed, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

You were still mad, yelling “Why?” at him as he started to walk towards you.

“Because you aren’t interested in nice guys!” he yelled back, “You always go after people that don’t treat you right, when all I’ve wanted to do this whole time is to be what you want!”

“You really are dumb,” you started to laugh, shaking your head. “You had a fucking chance, Ethan! I was interested in you. It was weird for me, and I wasn’t sure how to act because you aren’t my normal type, but that’s what made me like you!”

“How was I supposed to know that?” he said, sighing as he sat back down on the couch. “I just wanted to be what you wanted.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s something wrong with my normal ‘type’,” you laughed, sitting beside him. “In some sick, twisted way, I think it’s sweet that you wanted my attention so bad.”

“So, it worked?” he asked, cocking his head to look at you.

“I’m not going to validate you being an asshole. I want you to be yourself, that’s the Ethan I like,” you smiled at him.

“I’m sorry for making you cry before, I feel awful about that,” he said, the guilt present on his face.

“Just don’t do it again.”

“I totally ruined everything, didn’t I?” he asked, “I remember you mentioned your ex the other night. Are you going to give him another chance?”

You started to laugh as you looked at him, “Why would I do that? I mean, unless you aren’t interested in me, and this is just some sick joke.”

“No, I’m interested,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss was sweet at first, exactly what you expected from Ethan. He started to pull away, but your head moved with his, not wanting the kiss to end. His lips kept moving as you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip. You started to straddle him as you let him deepen the kiss, his tongue dancing against yours. When you felt him get hard through his jeans, you pulled away to look at him. His eyes were dazed as he watched you, craving more.

“You okay?” you asked, your breathing heavy.

“Yeah, can we do that again?”

You leaned back in, his hands going to your hips as you kissed him. His grip tightened a little as he started to squirm underneath of you, desperate to get a little friction. His lips moved to your jaw, before kissing down your neck. You whimpered when he found your sweet spot, his mouth attacking it so you’d keep making that sound.

Your hands were resting against the hem of his shirt, so you started to lift it to graze your fingers over his toned stomach. He followed your lead, his hands rubbing against your sides underneath your shirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingertips brushed against your ribs, the tickling feeling surprising you.

“You tensed up, are you okay with this?” he mumbled against your neck.

“Mhm,” you said, removing one of your hands from his abs and putting it under his chin. He lifted his head so your mouths could connect again, as you started to grind against him.

He started to groan into the kiss, his hips moving against yours. “Do you want to do this,” you asked pulling away a little. He nodded his head as you slid off of him to unbutton his jeans.

“Wait, are we about to fuck on the couch?” he asked, as you nodded.

“Stand up,” you said, grabbing his hands. You grabbed your blanket from the other side of the couch, spreading it across the cushions. “Now we don’t have to feel guilty whenever we see Chad sitting on the couch.”

He smiled as you slid his jeans down over his hips. “I think you should let me take something off of you.”

You smiled at him as you stepped back a little, your hands at your sides as you waited for him to make a move. His hands went to your shirt, lifting it over your head. He felt like his eyes were going to pop out off his skull when he realized you didn’t have a bra on.

“You’re even more perfect up close,” he said, leaning down to take one of your nipples in his mouth.

“How many times have you thought about me almost naked since the other night?” you asked, your fingers tangling in his hair as he moved his mouth.

“So many times,” he said as he pulled away and moved to the other one. He groaned a little at the feeling of your fingers tugging on his curls.

His hands reached down to the top of your jeans, slowly unbuttoning them, and sliding them down your hips. You shimmied out of them as you slid your feet out.

As you both stood there, he leaned in to kiss you again, the tent in his boxers pressing against you.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked, as he nodded.

“Good idea,” he said, running down the hall to his room. You took the opportunity to take off your panties as you waited for him to come back. His jaw dropped when he came back and saw you standing there, completely nude. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It can’t happen until these come off,” you said, grabbing the waistband of his boxers and sliding them down his thighs. After he stepped out of them, you pushed him back onto the couch.

He opened the condom as he sat there, rolling it on his hard cock. You really started to look at his size, nervous that it wouldn’t fit inside of you. His hands reached out, grabbing yours to pull you back on his lap. You kissed him as you grabbed his erection and lined it up with your soaked core.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, sinking down onto him. You sat in place as you kept kissing him, giving yourself enough time to adjust to the pressure as he stretched your walls.

When you started to roll your hips, his hands held onto them. “God, this feels amazing,” he said, loving the feeling of you around him. “You’re so tight.”

As you started to bounce on him, his thrusts started to meet yours. You kept making eye contact with him as his mouth started to fall open, faint moans slipping past his lips.

“That’s so hot,” you moaned, as he looked at you, trying to understand what you meant. “You can be as vocal as you want, baby. I love it.”

His heart melted as you called him ‘baby’, loving the sound of it. He started to get a little louder, letting you know exactly how good he was feeling.

“Rub my clit,” you whimpered, as your hands went to his shoulders to stabilize yourself so you could move faster.

His fingers started to rub circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves, the whines flying out of your mouth echoing off the walls. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

His fingers soon sped up as your moaning got higher. “Yes yes yes,” you cried out, that euphoric feeling so close to taking over your body, “I’m gonna cum.”

Your pussy started to flutter around him as your body started to tense up. He kept thrusting up into you, so close to his own orgasm. “Shit, gonna cum,” he groaned out, his hand leaving your clit and going back to your hip as he pounded into you. “Fuuuuck.”

He let out a long, shaky breath as he released into the condom. Your body relaxed against his as his hands rubbed your back. “You okay, baby?” he asked, as you nodded against his shoulder.

You laid there for a few more minutes, just enjoying his arms around you. “You want to take a shower?” you asked your fingers rubbing across his chest.

“I’d love to.”

When you were in the shower with Ethan, he was so sweet and caring. As he ran the soapy loofah across your back, you started to tear up a little. No one had ever done anything like this for you. Any other guy you’d showered with expected round two, but Ethan just wanted to take care of you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, as you stood under the water, the suds washing off your body.

“Stop. You keep saying stuff like that, you’re going to make me fall for you,” you laughed, as he laced his fingers with yours.

“You promise? Because you’re so amazing, and so perfect,” he said, and you knew he meant every word he was saying.

After the shower, you grabbed the blanket off the couch and threw it in the washer, before starting it. It would’ve made no sense to put the blanket down if you were just going to leave it there. Ethan walked up behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. “You’re still naked.”

“You are, too,” you said, turning to face him. “I want to cuddle tonight. Your bed or mine?”

“Let’s grab your clothes and lay in mine. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about you in my bed,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

“Okay, let’s go before Chad comes home and sees us naked,” you giggled, pulling away from him to run down the hall.

The next morning, you woke up with your head on Ethan’s chest and his arms wrapped around you. You sat up a little, your tired eyes connecting with his as he opened them.

“You look so cute first thing in the morning,” he said, sitting up too.

“I’m starving,” you said, running your hand through your hair as you attempted to tame the bed head.

“I could take you out to breakfast, if you’d like to.”

“I’d like that,” you said softly, leaning in to peck his lips.

You bumped into Chad in the hallway as you both walked out of Ethan’s room.

“Uh…okay,” he said, as you started to laugh. “Was I right about the love connection?” His fake accent was back as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumbled, walking into your room to change.

When your door closed, Chad whisper-yelled, “Yessss dude I’m so proud of you! You’ve been crushing on her forever.”

“It’s a long story, but I’m so excited that she’ll know how it feels to be treated right.”

Chad and Ethan started to do a little happy dance as you walked out of your room, both of them stopping as you smirked.

“You ready to go?” you asked, reaching out to grab Ethan’s hand.

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #scream

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