#ORANGE GLOWSTICK | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roseykat · 9 months ago

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TITLE: Play Night

SUMMARY: Things between Jisung and Hyunjin are heating up, and leading towards their group trip to Jeju, Jisung needs to clear a few things up with Chan; about you and him and the current secret bet in place that he unintentionally started.

TAGS: smut, handjobs, orgasms, kissing, making out, hickies, soft/fluff/slice of life moments, swearing, slight confrontation (nothing toxic), use of alcohol (Hyunjin is slightly drunk but what takes place after is consensual), some Harry Potter spoilers/references (sorry if you haven't watched HP)?

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

MASTERLIST - PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

🏷️LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @princejisung @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @dawn-iscozy @valibals @oiikaro @im-sinking-in-mud @aalexyuuuhm @baby-yongbok @1dk-anym0r3 @wealwayskeepfighting @flowersun @huening-kawaii @newhope8 @leftkittenface @20minsat180degrees @itsthatbri 🩷

“Oh, now this - what about this one?”

Hyunjin hears Jisung’s voice from the aisle beside him where all the cold drinks are located. He himself had been scanning vigorously among the shelves for his favourite brand of ramen, only to come up short. They had been to four convenience stores prior and not one had what he was looking for. It landed them a trip further away than they had expected, but neither of them complained about wandering around far from where they were supposed to be.

After he straightens up and peeks his head over the snacks to see what Jisung was talking about, he shakes his head solemnly.

“No. No, that one's grape flavoured and it tastes like children’s medicine,” he says to him.

Jisung looks down at the purple can in his possession, “that’s oddly specific - oh, then what about orange-“

“Same thing.”

Jisung huffs and gives up, placing the can back where he found it in a disgruntled fashion, “you’re an easy man to please you know, but the minute it comes to food you’re so picky.”

Hyunjin strolls around to meet Jisung on the other side after filling his basket with snacks that had caught his eye and wanted to eat during their movie night, “drinks aren’t food.”

“Then what’s soup? A drink or a food?” He fires back.

“Not this again,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and closes the fridge for Jisung who follows behind closely.

They’ve been debating about this for a while now which started off as a very contentious pillow talk topic that now crops up frequently. Of course, they wouldn’t be themselves if they didn’t have opposing opinions. Jisung, who thinks that soup is absolutely a drink, has been pushing that agenda ever since the night he tried to cook French onion soup to impress Hyunjin.

Only, it wasn’t that impressive, and was rather just a slurry of tasteless onion water and zero seasoning. In order to not upset his friend for trying his hardest, Hyunjin did his best to stomach the interesting creation and honestly hoped that he never tried again.

“It’s an important question!” Jisung begins to protest, ready with an army of rebuttals and arguments.

“Soup is a liquid food. That doesn’t mean to say it’s a drink, because you can eat soup. Plus, some soups have chunks of food in it too.”

“That’s just vegetable water or meat water.”

“Meat water,” Hyunjin repeats in a disgusted tone. “So you’re also saying that plain water is soup too?”

“Well, if you heat it up-“

“Okay,” Hyunjin interrupts as he dumps all their items onto the counter and takes out his wallet to pay. “Stop talking.”

“Make me,” he mouths and teases quietly so that the cashier couldn’t hear him. “If you stuff my mouth with something big then it might get me to stop talking.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, again.

Nearly every waking moment that he’s around Jisung, there’s always a guarantee that he’ll make Hyunjin’s eyes roll; whether it’s because of some weird shit that comes out of his mouth, or whether it’s giving him an orgasm. Whatever the reason, Hyunjin pretends to ignore him as he collects his goods, then heads out with his best friend at his side.

The entire commute back to his apartment, Jisung kept talking. On and on, and on about an assortment of subjects that Hyunjin had no interest in. At least not now. Not when all he wanted to do was go home, not speak, and just laze around with Jisung like he has been for the past few weeks. That thought seems to trigger a very sobering realisation that dawns on him as they ride the train back to his place.

As Hyunjin looks at the side of Jisung’s face who’s been rambling on about his opinion on the best types of pasta, he realises that they’ve been hooking up for the past few weeks. They kiss, make out, do other things, but not once have they had sex. Yet. They haven’t even talked about it, and yet, a part of Hyunjin had to wonder; was there any point in even talking let alone thinking about it if whatever is going on between them, isn’t going to last?

His eyebrows knit together. He doesn’t want to think about that. Hyunjin doesn’t know whatever feelings Jisung has right now, but the one thing he knows is that he likes the sense of comfort that hanging around him brings. What if he asks and disrupts what they have? What if he asks and ruins Jisung’s thoughts on him?

As those questions infiltrate his psyche, his head lowers and comes to rest on Jisung’s shoulder, eyelids closing softly, “wake me up when we get to our stop please.”

Jisung’s big brown eyes turn into the size of plates, a little bit taken aback that Hyunjin, a person who isn’t that huge on public displays of affection, is resting on him right now. Not to mention the privileged feeling that inflates Jisung whenever a person rests their head on his shoulder, which is very rare. It’s like some physical way of saying that Hyunjin trusts him, or feels comfortable around him at the very least.

He scans up and down the cart where no members of the public come into his view. Grateful for their absence, Jisung feels safe by reciprocating the same affections. So he places his hand on Hyunjin’s upper thigh, and he too rests his head against his friends’.

For the next five minutes, Jisung and Hyunjin would ride the train back to his place in peace. Neither of them spoke a word until they reached their stop. The pair of them hop up, Hyunjin stands and stretches his long limbs as he and his friend head inside the apartment complex.

Once they return to his place, Hyunjin prepares all the snacks for them on his coffee table, while Jisung gets the movie ready that they - he - wanted to watch.

“Harry Potter? Again?” Hyunjin groans, taking the plastic wrap off of the kimbap to share and setting it down on the surface once they’ve both sunken down onto the couch.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” Jisung shoots him a dirty look. He’s always been pretty serious about his Harry Potter, having watched the movies over a thousand times and read the books back to back. “This is the next part of the series, thank you.”

Hyunjin sighs and makes himself comfortable. He then heads to his fridge to grab a couple of bottles of soju and some shot glasses. Back at the convenience store, he meant to buy something non alcoholic, had he not been so picky about the flavours Jisung presented to him he wouldn’t be deciding on whether he should have alcohol or not. In saying that, it was nice to have a drink.

He strolls back to the coffee table with their final items and places them all down.

"Oh, yum," Jisung gasps and reaches for the bottle, unscrews the cap and starts pouring the clear liquid into both shot glasses already.

Hyunjin stares at him as he downs the alcohol in one smooth go, "alright then..."

Jisung holds up the other shot glass for Hyunjin, "your turn."

He takes it in hand, careful not to spill it on the rug beneath him - then again, it's seen a lot more messier liquids on it than alcohol.

"Yuck," Hyunjin retches after swallowing half of the contents in the glass.

"Come on, you know you like it," Jisung nudges him. "You know the saying; if you can handle cum, you can handle alcohol."

Hyunjin nearly sprays out the rest of the alcohol from his mouth as a muddle of amusement, concern, and curiosity wakes him up more than the semi-burn of the drink does, "and who said that exactly?"

"Me," he answers. "Hence why I can take both so well."

Like some of the time, Jisung wasn't wrong and summed it up with another shot before he picked up the remote to play the movie. He settles back comfortably while Hyunjin takes another shot of the soju.

He makes it through the first twenty minutes of the film, then reaches the part where Harry Potter suddenly gets selected for the Triwizard Tournament. By that point, Hyunjin was sure the alcohol had fully trickled into his bloodstream when he wasn't able to tell the difference between Mad Eye Moody and Hagrid.

Frames started to blend together and yet, he thought it was still a good idea to continue drinking to see if that would help. However, most good idea turn to bad ones. The alcohol began to play absolutely no part in trying to help him make sense of the plot and made him focus on other things rather than the movie.

It was safe to say that he grew steadily bored when it came to watching it. At the same time, he didn't have the heart in him to express his opinion to the person beside him who was so wrapped up in the universe on screen. Jisung's eyes were completely glued to the digital motions before him whereas Hyunjin's eyes were glued to him.

Boredom strikes him bad when he feels the need to lean over and make his long body comfortable on Jisung. Hyunjin's upper torso stretches over his friend's lap who doesn't pay too much mind to it. Jisung even hangs his arms over Hyunjin's abdomen while he watches the film contently.

It's not the type of physical contact he wants right now.

"Jisungie," he mutters into the couch.

"Hmm?"

"Can we do something else?" Hyunjin pleads rather than asks.

He never gets a response. The lounge continues to be filled with dialogue - something along the lines of Ron Weasly now having a go at Harry for being inducted into the tournament and not telling him. Hyunjin's had enough of it and for whatever reason he feels like, he slides off of Jisung's lap. Half of his body slumps onto the ground while the other half remains somewhat on the couch.

"What are you doing?" he snorts, grabbing onto Hyunjin's hands and trying to hoist him back up.

He awkwardly anchors his legs around Jisung's body in an effort to help pull himself up as well but ends up knocking his head on the edge of the coffee table. With a delayed reaction, Hyunjin winces and then laughs as he tries to rub his own head even while Jisung is still trying to save him from falling off completely.

"Here just - just stop moving so I can help," he leans back and uses all his arm strength to move what is practically dead weight to him.

Hyunjin puts in zero effort to help and instead becomes a giggling mess the second he's actually able to get back into Jisung's lap. When he does, his long limp limbs wrap themselves around the man beneath him. He hides his face in the crook of his neck, the sudden whiff of Jisung's skin almost makes him dizzy, making his mood do a complete one eighty degree turn.

It creates immense difficulty in trying to swallow the urge to plant a kiss over the soft area, earning a very quiet yet distinct hum from Jisung. Hyunjin repeats the same action, longer this time and in different spots that his tongue can swipe over. The grip Hyunjin barely knew was there on his hips, twitched in place. As if Jisung's nails are trying to dig into Hyunjin's flesh had he not worn clothes.

"Hey," Jisung alerts him. “Can’t watch the movie if all you’re trying to do is get on my dick- ah…”

Hyunjin’s mouth shuts his right up from one sharp suck into his skin. His tongue flattens over the fresh red plum mark. The sight of it alone makes Hyunjin want to decorate them over every inch of Jisung’s body, similar to the style of how he would paint a canvas - which he does. Over as much skin as Jisung lets him when he moves his head to allow Hyunjin to cover more skin.

“Y-You’ll…you’ll get me hard,” he warns, now unable to concentrate on the film.

Hyunjin pulls away from his neck, giving him a rest from the myriad of hickies he’ll have to worry about later, and looks him down in the eye, “that’s sort of the point.”

Their mouths draw together like magnets, like they’ve been doing for weeks. Every day they find their lips on the others or some body party of theirs. Jisung gets to relish and dawn in the softness of Hyunjin’s lips, letting him slip past further to explore his mouth. His needs not only start to show through in his pants, but in his breathing and frantic pace of trying to feel Jisung that he almost can’t keep up with him.

So he decides that he needs to contain him a bit, bring him down a few notches to reminds him that he’s not in charge - at least for now.

With that, Jisung wraps his hand right around Hyunjin’s waist and manoeuvres him onto his back. The abrupt shift in control makes him act up almost instantly. Hyunjin is grabbing at Jisung’s shirt trying pull his body back down to his, but his muscles are weak and tired from drinking that it makes it too easy for Jisung to straddle his hips and pin his hands to the side of his head.

“Look what you’ve done to yourself,” he tells Hyunjin right in his ear while he rolls his ass down over the dick that's hardening underneath him. "Gonna be fucking begging when I'm through with you."

At that point, the pair had gone beyond the fact of not completing a full movie night. With the way that Jisung continues to pin Hyunjin back and exchange the manifold of hickies across the planes of his throat and neck. If anyone walked into the apartment, they would’ve thought vampires truly existed with the way Jisung’s mouth was latched onto his best friend’s skin.

“T-The movie,” Hyunjin stammers hopelessly with his words. “Jisung…the movie…”

Jisung lets out a sinister chuckle as he pushes himself back up to take off his shirt and tosses it somewhere around the lounge, "fuck the movie. You started this. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To rile me up and now you've gone all shy on me."

Hyunjin doesn't listen. His first instinct is to reach out and grab Jisung’s waist, to caress his hand freely for a few moments before gliding down and grasping the flesh over his hips. The slight sting in it makes him buck his hips forward and over Hyunjin’s clothed cock, making him groan lowly. He could cum easily like this - so easily and has done.

Every position they get into to practically dry hump each other, he always imagines that this is what it would be like if Jisung was riding his throbbing cock. To cum inside him and watch his face contorts the way that it does whenever Hyunjin makes him orgasm.

That thought sparks a wire in his brain, causing him to suddenly jerk his hips up and into Jisung. He smirks down at him, soaking up the state of the man beneath him. The hickies, red and wet kissable lips, dozy eyes that slowly blink up at him…

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Jisung mutters in exasperation like he's never seen Hyunjin's body before. “Just wanna f-”

Blaring on the coffee table next to all of the opened snacks was Jisung’s phone, he quickly bends over to the side to reach for it in urgency while still trying to straddle. Hyunjin twists his body carefully with Jisung still on top, picking the remote off the floor that had fallen after being pinned back. He pauses the movie for a moment to let Jisung answer his call.

A small weight sinks in his stomach as he speaks in shock, “it’s Chan."

"M-Maybe you should answer it," Hyunjin tries his best to talk over the exponential rate of how much he is turned on right now.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Jisung! Do you not answer your texts? I sent about six just before!”

He pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his notifications. His friend was right, Jisung had in fact missed his messages. But not on purpose of course. If he hadn't been so busy provoking Hyunjin whose hands started sliding up Jisung’s thighs, dangerously close to his tented crotch, he would've seen the texts.

Hyunjin's fingertips delicately trace over where Jisung's cock begins to harden. His eyebrows furrow immediately as Chan continues speaking on the other end of the line about how he’s still surprised that Jisung didn’t answer him right away.

“You’re always on your phone, I thought you might’ve been quick to respond,” says Chan.

“Oh, yeah not this time,” he responds truthfully, to some degree. “I’ve been watching Harry Potter all evening and-“

The words ready to leave Jisung's mouth die before they make it out as Hyunjin mischievously, and very clearly, starts to palm Jisung’s hard length over his pants. It didn’t take him that long to start leaking from his tip, creating a very visible dark patch over his shorts.

“…and-“

Hyunjin then reaches into the slot of the material, past his boxers and frees his cock. For a few moments, he takes away his hand just to admire how Jisung looks right now. The fact that he tried to finish what Hyunjin started, only to have the tables turned on him again. He flushes with embarrassment at the fact that without Hyunjin’s grasp around his length, his dick was able to stand tall on its own; so needy and desperate for touch.

“And what?” Chan’s voice suddenly startles him out of his situation.

“And I just lost track of time, that’s all,” Jisung continues as calmly as he can.

“No worries. I haven’t watched Harry Potter in years. I think the last might’ve been Prisoner of Azkaban? No, Goblet of Fire? It was the one where…”

Chan’s voice drifts out of Jisung’s mind despite the fact that he’s right in his ear on the other line. His face contorts at the sudden pleasure he receives as Hyunjin takes hold of his neglected cock once more. His eyes dart sharply down to his own length and the large hand which begins to slowly tug.

“…he gets chosen for the tournament when he really didn’t put his name into the cup…”

Jisung brings a shaky hand to his mouth, covering it immediately so as to mask and muffle something that could end up as a future regret. Hyunjin knows all too well what sort of sounds can come out of that mouth of his too, for it has reverberated around the walls of his apartment, stifled into his pillows, caught in the back of his throat which usually serves as a path for Hyunjin’s cum these days.

He’s heard it all before.

For Jisung to keep a lid on all of those possibilities is a smart move, especially if they want to uphold the secrecy of their situation.

“…and I’m pretty sure it’s the one where Cedric dies.”

“Y-Yeah,” he responds shakily. “That’s the one we - I’m watching at the moment.”

“Maybe I should rewatch the first two,” Chan suggests to himself. “It’s the only series I can actually watch and understand without it being too complicated. I tried watching Lord of the Rings before but it’s too…”

Once more, Chan’s voice becomes a distant sound as Jisung tries to stop himself from bucking his hips into Hyunjin’s hand. But it’s not possible. He can’t just ignore the fact that he’s been horny since Hyunjin made him all hot and bothered, and now he’s built up to maximum capacity where his body craves release.

“So what time suits you?” Chan asks randomly.

“Time for what?” Jisung responds back in confusion, his mind blending together like mush when Hyunjin has gotten into a steady pace.”

“To hang out tomorrow!”

“Oh, right! Ah - um, lunchtime? Twelve…” He suggests, his hips still rutting.

“Alright sounds good. I’ll see you there okay?” Chan asks.

“I’m cumming - I mean, I-I’ll come! I’ll be coming - going there,” Jisung stammers terribly with his words. “F-Fuck sorry, just…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chan laughs on the other end of the line, “see you then.”

Jisung has never hung up faster, the phone toppling out of his possession as he rocks his hips into Hyunjin’s grasp. It also gave him the ability to rut his ass against Hyunjin’s hard length below him. Then within a split second, the lid that Jisung was trying so hard to contain over what his body needed to do, came off.

“Fuck, gonna cum, m’cumming!” He cries out.

Hyunjin grins, and does not dare let up on his hand twisting and gliding on the length currently in his power, “I heard you the first time. How humiliating would that have been for you if Chan realised you were getting a handjob. Too bad he can't hear you whining so pathetically-“

Air hitches in Jisung’s throat, and for a few seconds too long Hyunjin looks into his eyes and sees tears welling up. A terrible, cold sinking feeling expands in his stomach, making him realise that he just said something awful to Jisung.

“W-Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t-

It was too late. Loud moans rupture violently through Jisung’s chest - ones that Hyunjin knows his neighbours are familiar with by now because by no means is Han Jisung quiet. He will let Hyunjin know how he’s making his body feel now explodes from immense pressure.

His rutting against Hyunjin’s cock becomes staggered as a result of trying to chase his orgasm. Jisung clutches onto Hyunjin’s shirt, the fabric balling up tightly along with his fist. He can’t stop, he doesn’t want to stop, until eventually that buildup releases erratically in flows of white that spill over his tip and dribble down Hyunjin’s hand. Jisung had never cum that hard from a handjob before.

He finishes gasping for air when he starts coming down, slowly rocking his ass over Hyunjin’s crotch to ease himself off the euphoria. Beneath him is a different story.

Hyunjin was mortified for making him cry, so shocked that he was frozen and couldn’t take his hand off of Jisung’s dick. But that didn’t matter. Jisung had the intention of finishing what he started, to feel so good that all his problems melted away.

Hyunjin sits up immediately, so close to Jisung’s face as he needs to check in with his friend, “are you okay? I’m so, so sorry, I don’t even know why I said that. It just...it just came out of my mouth.”

He wipes his eyes after a couple of tears fell down his face in the process of dry riding Hyunjin. Part of what just happened makes him laugh breathily and nods, “yeah. I’m okay.”

“Jisung, I’m really, really sorry,” he quickly says and means it, trying to look him in the eye.

“No, oh my god don’t be sorry,” he assures him. “I’m fine, seriously.”

“Then…then why are you crying?” Hyunjin asks the million dollar question, still acting out of horror.

He gives a lazy shrug, “I dunno how to explain it properly, but I like that kind of talk. It just…yeah. I’m not too sure. I suppose I teared up because I haven't actually cum that hard before.”

“I…didn’t know you were into…that,” Hyunjin doesn’t know how to reply to that type of statement, now that he just found out his friend likes being humiliated. Out of all things Jisung would be into, it had to be that.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know,” he replies, leaning over to the coffee table just a bit to pick up the box of tissues to clean Hyunjin’s hand.

“W-What did Chan want?” He asks even though he doesn't want to stray away from the topic to make sure his friend is still okay.

Jisung slides off of his body and in between his legs rather awkwardly. From this stance, it’s easy to see the large tent in Hyunjin’s pants that he was grinding on as he made himself comfortable. He smooths the palm of his hand over Hyunjin's hard length and slowly back down. In doing so forces a couple of strained sighs out of his mouth.

“Wants to hang out tomorrow,” he answers, reaching into Hyunjin’s shorts to feel his hard cock. The same cock that keeps him coming back, that makes him feel heated and irrational.

In Jisung’s opinion, anyone would be lucky to have someone like his friend in front of him. Even though they haven’t had sex, he knows how Hyunjin fucks, having seen the way he made you cum weeks ago - it only makes Jisung wonder what it would be like to actually cum around Hyunjin’s cock.

It’s what he wants, needs in fact whenever they’re together.

Hyunjin bites his lip and throws his head down onto the couch, “y-you going to?”

“Course I am,” Jisung replies, thumbing over the dark pink tip that leaks clear glossy precum. “Need to ask him about Y/N and what the situation is there.”

A dreadful ball of weight pummels Hyunjin from behind when he hears your name in the same sentence as ‘Chan’. Not to mention, as Jisung said, your ‘situation’ with him currently which Hyunjin doesn’t want to process. He likes being oblivious to the fact that Chan is sleeping with you. That he gets to fill you up, that he just gets to see you. Whether Jisung was telling the truth or not about you and him sleeping together, he acts as if you’re not to save himself from the reality of it.

“D-Do you really need to?” Hyunjin asks hesitantly, fumbling terribly with his words as Jisung lowers his head down and licks one long stripe from the base of Hyunjin’s cock, right to his dark pink tip.

“Yes,” he confirms, but doesn’t truly tell him why for reasons far too similar to his friend here.

After giving his answer, Jisung sinks his mouth onto Hyunjin’s cock, just half of it to tease him. Bobbing his head a couple of times causes Hyunjin’s to grab the side of the couch while the other flies to land on top of Jisung’s head.

“What if…if he doesn’t say anything?” He questions breathlessly.

Jisung pops back up, and leans over Hyunjin’s abdomen to ask him in his face, his question bears some perspective to the situation, “do you want me to blow you, or not?”

Hyunjin uses the hand that’s not ready to brace his body by the side of the couch and tucks a long lock of Jisung’s dark brown hair behind his ear, “yes.”

“Then please shut your mouth and let me,” he demands.

It wasn’t hard for Hyunjin’s eyelids to shut and squeeze together. Receiving a blowjob from Jisung always feels like he’s had his soul sucked out of him; he doesn’t know where he learned it, but isn’t complaining either because it put Hyunjin to sleep ten minutes after they cleaned themselves up. By the time he and Jisung crawled into bed together, he had forgotten having the conversation with Jisung about you and Chan. Yet, only to be reminded of it the following day when Jisung woke up at half past eleven in the morning.

He was scheduled to meet Chan at one of his favourite lunch spots nearby and was in no mood to meet him. Being the morning person he is not, Jisung found himself struggling immensely to get out of bed and Hyunjin’s long arms that were encasing him.

Although he didn’t feel like leaving, he thought it would be best to just go as it had been a while since he saw Chan last. More importantly, he needed to confront him about what’s going on. Mainly for his own piece of mind.

He remembers something in his stomach sinking when he read that text on your phone. Despite the intense shock he felt when he discovered that you and Chan were hooking up, he wasn’t able to diverge from his own feelings. Something which he struggles to get across and might depending on the outcome of the lunch with one of the people in question.

Jisung steps out of the shower with a towel around his waist as he goes to sit on the end of the bed to open some of the drawers to his dresser. He pulls out a cream coloured jersey, some underwear, and a pair of sweatpants.

The fact that he needs to borrow so many articles of clothing is just another potent reminder that he should be packing and taking an overnight bag whenever he goes to hang out with Hyunjin. Nine times out of ten, Jisung will always say he’s only coming over for the afternoon then ends up staying for more than one day at a time.

The sheets ruffle beneath Hyunjin’s body as he stirs himself awake. He sits up, bed head on full view and eyes barely open, “what are you doing?”

“Borrowing some clothes,” Jisung answers trying to ignore how hot his morning voice sounds. “I’ll bring you back some food to compensate.”

“You said that last time,” he grumbles sleepily. “I’m also down four of my favourite jerseys because of you.”

Jisung throws on the material over his top half before crawling his way on the mattress to Hyunjin. He kisses him unexpectedly yet expectedly on the lips.

“Just go back to sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll see you after.”

With his confirmation, Hyunjin’s top half flops back against the mattress before Jisung pulls the white duvet back over his body, tucking him in. He had no trouble falling back asleep when Jisung lightly brushes some strands of his hair out of his face. However, without the distraction of him touching Hyunjin, Jisung couldn’t help but feel nervous.

He already knew that you and Chan were sleeping together. That text long affirmed that. Yet for how long and what for remained to be a sickening twist of fearful questions lugging Jisung’s stomach down. He didn’t really want to hear the answers from Chan if he can even stomach that conversation. He didn’t want to hear ‘yes we’ve been fucking’ or the ‘yeah, it’s true’ answers.

In saying that, Jisung has a trait of bottomless curiosity. That itch to find out for his own personal gain was going to make or break him. At that, he dons on the matching coloured sweats, grabs his phone and wallet, and then heads out of Hyunjin’s apartment.

After a train ride away, it doesn’t take long for Jisung to arrive, and apparently not for Chan either, who was already seated, waiting for his friend. An assortment of dishes had already been brought to the table, making Jisung realise how hungry he was since breakfast was no longer.

“How the fuck did you get here so fast, you live on the other side of the city,” Jisung exclaims to him from behind as he approaches.

“Hey. I couldn’t wait any longer because I was hungry,” Chan complains in a whiny tone. “Came here earlier to order, so I couldn’t wait.”

“Good, that makes things easier because I didn’t know what I was going to get anyway,” he replies and sits down in the booth opposite Chan. He hasn't changed much. Then again, it hasn't been too long since he's seen him last. “Been busy?”

He shakes his head, “you have no idea.”

“Thought you might’ve been,” Jisung responds, eyeing him intently to see if he gives off even the subtlest signs of a lie. “Haven’t seen you in almost a month, what’ve you been up to?”

Chan shrugs, “work and tutoring some of these students at the University.”

Jisung gives a firm nod, believing him and understanding how tiresome that must be to help teach students. It’s not until he pauses and realises that Uni semesters haven’t started yet. Even summer semester students are on break. He could’ve called him out on his bullshit now to see what answers he would get, but for the sake of wanting to find out other information, he keeps that to himself.

“Shit, sounds tough,” Jisung sympathises with him, or at least tries to if he was lying.

“How ‘bout you?”

“Same old. Working - you’re still coming to Jeju right?” He asks on a different subject.

“Yeah, of course. I took leave for it,” Chan answers as a puzzled look then befalls on his face. For a moment, his eyes narrow at Jisung, or rather his chest, trying to decipher what’s wrong with the picture he’s currently seeing.

“What?” He asks, trying to follow his gaze.

“You and Hyunjin have the same jersey,” Chan points out, realising what the flaw was.

“Oh, I know, that loser keeps copying everything I wear,” Jisung quickly plays it cool because unbeknownst to Chan, it is in fact Hyunjin’s jersey.

“Why are you wearing a scarf by the way?” Jisung tries to direct the attention away from himself

He hadn’t noticed the black item wrapped warmly around Chan’s neck until he began to panic whilst digging up something else to switch topics. The heat Jisung feels like he’s already being dragged under was starting to make him feel uneasy.

“The same reason you’re wearing a jersey on a thirty degree day,” Chan fires back just as fast but more nonchalantly to just about make Jisung sweat.

It forces him to wonder what on earth this reason is that his friend is talking about, and why he’s being so cryptic.

His face twists into confusion, mildly surprised when he realises Chan is trying to clock him for something that he doesn’t even know about or what for. Then again, it’s Chan. When is he not this observant?

“And what reason is that?” He responds with an accusatory tone.

Chan doesn’t answer, not directly. He only lifts his chin up slightly and points to his own throat, confusing the hell out of Jisung as to what he means. When it’s clear that the message can’t cross his mind, Chan rolls his eyes, and reaches into his pockets to take out his phone. He pulls up the selfie camera mode and hands it to Jisung to look at.

Apart from seeing his own reflection, he can see something else; a few splotches of dark, reddish marks littered all over his throat. At first he thought he had a rash, but wasn’t too sure what he was looking at. However, upon closer inspection, he moves the camera a bit closer to his throat and takes a photo on Chan’s phone to see it better.

After his quick analysis, Jisung knew instantly what they were. More importantly, who it came from. Hickies, and from none other than the only person he’s been messing around with, Hyunjin. Jisung didn’t even bother covering them up.

He hastily hands Chan’s phone back after deleting the photo, “so what?”

“Suppose you forgot you had them, judging by your reaction,” Chan guessed correctly, completely stumping Jisung who’s nearly lifting his own body off his seat as he tries to come up with an argument.

“Well…I suppose you didn’t know that I know you and Y/N are fucking which explains the scarf too but here we are!” He blurts out before he even has time to think about stopping the words from coming out of his mouth.

Chan’s hand stalls over the pot of stew while Jisung’s lips are pursed together. All the colour in his face has drained, almost making him feel lightheaded that he just said that out loud. In saying that, this is exactly the topic he wanted to discuss - you and Chan. He just wasn’t expecting the conversation to meander in such a way that nearly exposes himself and threw him way off the track of ever raising the subject.

“And what makes you think that?” Chan resumes ladling some of the hot stew into his bowl of rice.

Jisung knows that you can’t unring a bell so makes the split decision and decides to come clean, “I was using Y/N’s phone for something, and that’s where I saw a text message from you, hinting that you guys were sleeping together.”

“Ah,” Chan recalls immediately at the sudden confession. “From that little truth or dare game you, her and Hyunjin played?”

Jisung’s jaw unhinges, staring across the table towards his friend who seems to be a search engine for the topic of ‘everything Jisung has done lately.’ Nearly every minute that passes, Chan slaps him with a new fact that his friend wasn’t expecting him to know.

“You - but, how did- did Hyunjin-“

Chan’s already shaking his head before Jisung can muster a proper sentence, “Hyunjin never said a word. In fact he hasn’t been replying to my texts so I haven’t heard from him.”

“Then…then Y/N?”

“Well it couldn’t have been you or anyone else that was there.”

Jisung isn’t angry. He’s just shocked that he keeps getting one upped. Chan finding out that Jisung had a threesome with two of his best friends - one of them who he’s been fucking for some time now too - was far more of a juicy topic than just you and Chan seeing each other casually, which Jisung still doesn’t know the full details of.

“Said she had never cum like that in her entire life,” Chan adds, burying Jisung another meter or so deeper into this hole of new scandalous information.

His body freezes over. Suddenly, it’s not thirty degrees and everything feels cold. Jisung doesn’t ever really hear Chan talk about his sex life. Even when he was in a relationship with his ex, each of his friends tried to dissect as many details about it as they could. But they were never successful. That was a result of keeping things as private and low key as possible.

Nevertheless, Chan’s crude and very straightforward words had knocked Jisung right off his feet. The fact that you had told him what must’ve been very clear details of that night at Hyunjin’s was a sign that it still lingered on your brain. Part of his ego secretly swells with joy because of it.

“Then I felt like I needed to outdo you guys after that,” he adds.

“What do you mean?” Jisung questions with a tone of an impending doom that looms over him.

Chan smiles sweetly, memories stirring of that night in particular he had with you. It had to be one of the best times by far to him, “you know what I mean.”

Jisung’s skin stings with scorching hot jealousy; he knows exactly what Chan means. The fact of the matter is that he can’t believe he’s saying these types of things to him. Then again, there’s only one reason why Jisung would be so affected by it and he didn’t want to display that in front of Chan without figuring out what it means. But whatever it is that’s tugging at the organ beating hard and fast in his chest, makes him furious.

“Alright then,” he replies unfazed as he possibly could, swallowing the tough pill before realising there was one other thing he wanted to mention. “Suppose you guys are still seeing each other.”

Chan looks Jisung right in his eyes as he slowly retracts the spoon out of his mouth, “maybe.”

“So yes then.”

“What does it mean to you?” He tests him, almost sadistically.

“It means nothing to me,” Jisung answers rather bitterly and nastily, his entire aura switching up before he finds a new tether to lure the spotlight away from himself. “Just the fact that I told the others about you two, and they made a bet.”

Chan looks up, “a bet?”

“None of them believed me, so they made a bet to see whether you guys were or not even though I said so.”

If he didn’t have food in his mouth, Chan would’ve laughed, instead a disgruntled chuckle came out along with a couple of specs of his rice, “course they wouldn’t! Why would they believe that the two polar opposite people would be screwing behind everyone’s back?”

“You're not mad?” Jisung checks to be sure.

He shakes his head, “course not, dunno if Y/N won’t be though. She said she likes keeping things pretty private-“

“Clearly not if she told you she had a threesome,” Jisung cuts him off at that point.

“Well, there’s some exceptions to that,” Chan shrugs, finishing off his bowl of rice. “I don’t know if this means anything to you but, she wouldn’t shut up about sleeping with you and Hyunjin. She told me every single detail like for instance, when you and Hyunjin made out-“

The tongs fall out of Jisung’s tight grip and clatter onto the table. He brings his hands up to his eyes, covering his entire face to hide whatever embarrassing feelings that start to simmer on the surface. However, Chan didn’t seem to care and continued on with his points to prove.

“-how she liked it when you went down on her, how you watched Hyunjin fuck her - I told you what I meant about the details, right? Anyway,” he says. “She was raving about it. And yet, when she and I started seeing each other casually, she said that she didn’t want me to tell anyone else. That I needed to take what we have to the grave.”

Jisung removes his hands away from his face and looks down at his own food, unsure if he can stomach any more of it with the way the conversation has been handled. The more he talks and thinks about you, the more he feels like he’s being filled up with this bad gloomy feeling. He has to wonder if Chan is just being plain cruel to him by dumping all of his thoughts and information onto him.

He has to wonder, would it have been better to stay oblivious rather than being teased with snippets of what you’ve been saying to Chan these past few weeks. Hearing about how much you enjoyed yourself with him and Hyunjin yet haven’t directly spoken to them since that night.

“What are you saying?” Jisung questions, tired with the bullshit that’s starting to spike in their discussion.

“The fact that she wants to keep our…activities a secret from people and rather them not find out about us, yet is the first to speak highly of what you, her and Hyunjin did, means something more than you think.”

More than he thinks? Jisung can’t understand what that could’ve possibly meant. He sits there, bewildered and stumped. Unsure of what else to say.

“Right,” he responds.

Chan watches him warily, trying to gauge his behaviour as he decides to change the topic, “so, what’s on the table for this bet?”

Jisung quickly pries himself away from his messy mind and answers, “losers have to buy a days’ worth of food when we go to Jeju.”

Chan nods, impressed as he reaches for more meat on the grill and loads it into his bowl, “even less of a reason to be mad. Looks like I’ll be eating for free either way.”

"Yeah, looks like it."

The span of Jisung's vocabulary seemed to fail him. That and the fact that he didn't really want to talk anymore. Yes, it was good to see one of his best friends, but the circumstances that developed throughout their lengthy conversation made him wish he stayed in bed with Hyunjin just the extra bit longer so he would have to cancel lunch.

He managed to finish off small bowls of food to not make himself appear out of character. One whiff of anything remotely aberrant on Jisung's behalf, and Chan would hold him hostage in the restaurant until he tells him what's wrong. Despite that, Chan noticed something off anyway.

He saw the way Jisung's face fell when he confirmed that he was sleeping with you. He saw how his shoulders drooped and then picked up when he mentioned that you told him about the night at Hyunjin's. He saw how defensive and sceptical Jisung became whenever he would just simply mention you.

He saw that Jisung was hiding something.

When both friends had finished enjoying their meals, they were greeted with a downpour of rain that would have them seeking refuge under the veranda of the restaurant once they were outside. Just before they bid farewell to each other, Chan quickly turns to Jisung and calls out.

“It’s okay if you like her,” he says out of nowhere. “Y/N and I are not what you might think we are and we made it clear to each other that we never will be. There’s nothing between her and I, just so you know.”

Jisung stares at him, not showing any emotions on his face even though deep down, his brain and insides are whirring with emotions he can't even fathom, “I don’t like her like that.”

Chan laughs at him, unfazed with the sudden tension that seems to be slicing through them, “keep telling yourself that. See you next week.”

Through the deluge of rain and shadows from the dark, dense clouds above, Chan runs off in the opposite direction to where he needs to head home. Jisung stands there defeated and shocked that Chan is onto his tail that he likes you. He knew that heading into meeting up with him meant that the truth was going to come out one way or the other. Suppose it was just not on his terms.

It stirs many thoughts as he throws his hood up and ducks out into the rain to head to the train station and back to the safety of Hyunjin.

When he returns, Jisung keys in the passcode to unlock the door to the apartment, and is smothered with a waft of a sweet decadent scent. Standing in the kitchen, Hyunjin was at the stove flipping over what looked to be pancakes which suddenly reminded Jisung-

“Fuck, oh my god. The food, I forgot to even order it,” Jisung groans when he closes the door behind him.

Hyunjin turns the element dial on low and spins around to lean on the counter, away from the stove tops, "it's okay. I felt like something sweet anyway."

Jisung sighs. It felt right to be back with Hyunjin once more even though he had only been out for a couple of hours. In saying that, his conversation with Chan was good but draining. It’s not that he doesn’t like him for telling him the truth, there’s absolutely no doubt about that. Chan is and will always be his friend.

There is no emotional connection between you and him and that’s all that matters to Jisung. However, it’s just the truth in itself that he has an issue with - you hooking up with Chan every now and then that is. It makes him feel uneasy and almost makes him feel like he’s doing something immoral by just sitting back and watching it happen.

The reality stings where he doesn’t like it so pushes himself from the edge of the bench and walks into Hyunjin’s body to retreat from his thoughts. Slightly taken aback but not oblivious to the strange display of emotions Jisung is presenting, Hyunjin sets the spatula down beside him and hugs his friend back.

“You okay?” He questions, concern dripping all over his face.

Jisung nods his head on his chest, “yeah. Just socialising, now I’m tired.”

It wasn’t a lie, but not the truth either. Regardless, Hyunjin takes his word for it without thinking twice about it. He had completely forgotten why Jisung had gone to see Chan for in the first place.

“Wanna nap together?”

“Didn’t you just wake up?” Jisung pulls one arm away from Hyunjin’s body while the other still rests there so that he can rub his eyes.

"Well," Hyunjin looks away from him. "That's beside the point. Just...missed you is all too.”

"Cute," he grumbles, ignoring what the weight of those words truly means. "I should pack for next week though because knowing me, I'll leave everything until the last minute."

Hyunjin lets out a long sigh. He hasn't even thought about putting a suitcase together yet either, "true. I should probably start packing as well."

"Okay then let’s both get ready," Jisung looks up at him before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Hyunjin's lips, slowly pulling away and says quietly; "see you in Jeju."

Hyunjin responds, look at him, “see you in Jeju.”

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin x jisung #rosiewritesskz #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut

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silverzoomies · 1 year ago

Text

Great Pumpkin

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, drunk sex, halloween party, porn with feelings, use of the speech quirk "yer"

word count: 7,878

a/n: meant to finish this one before halloween. whoops !! at least november is the spook before christmas !! or halloween 2, electric boogaloo !!

some notes about this one: i wanna apologize for the needless plot. i know it's unnecessary, but i got a little carried away. if anything feels awkward, out of place, or weird? that's my bad. sorry. i was havin' too much fun writing the less smutty stuff. some other notes - think of this as an au, i guess. where erik is hiding out at xavier's for...reasons? idfk. sitcom logic. everyone's living together !! but there's tension !!

tag list: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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All Hallows Eve.

Prior to the X-Family’s spooktacular bash, Hank whipped up a little something special. Using his Einstein brain - or wizard sorcery. Peter couldn’t be too sure - the beastly scientist conjured a powerful inebriant. He heard Peter joke one too many times about his inability to get drunk. Since the speedster’s body filtered through substances at break-neck speed. Leaving not a second’s worth of intoxication time.

No exaggeration there. Peter once tried chugging his mom’s entire stash of liquor, along with a bottle of Purple Toad wine. Some really fruity stuff. Such a mass of booze only left a burn in his throat, along with an onslaught of nausea. All of which lasted 0.2 seconds.

Hank wanted to do Peter a favor for all his hard work lately. And now, he could finally participate in what he missed out on. After all these years. As long as he didn’t use the substance for any nefarious purposes. Per Hank’s request. Whatever that meant. Not like Peter planned on playing pranks at this year’s party. C’mon…really? He’s a teacher, for Geddy’s sake! He's gotta set a good example.

Spoiler alert: he had planned on it. Keyword being had.

Until the inebriation actually kicked in. For the first time in his unconventional life, a warm buzz pooled through Peter’s bloodstream. One of the major side effects? Debuffs to superspeed. Which proved an otherworldly experience. If not a little uncomfortable. Still worth it, for a one-night-only lesson in drunkenness.

Peering lazily into his red solo cup, Peter blinked. His eyes followed swirls of neon cyan. Luminous in its irradiated glow. He couldn’t comprehend the science behind Hank’s glowstick booze. But he knew it filtered through his body at a much slower rate than other substances. The drink felt syrupy on his tongue, and tasted like - coincidentally enough - candy corn. Its effects proved weaker than Peter expected.

Given his cells operated so incomprehensibly fast, Peter didn’t find this too surprising. So, what? He’d never get frat party wasted. Oh well. Peter came to accept that fact about himself forever ago. Still, fluorescent booze made him mellow enough to slow down a lot. Peter could totally vibe with mellow. No complaints there. Mellow’s copacetic. He definitely owed Beastie for his magic potion of slow-mo. Peter oscillated between a nice, tipsy balance. Muddled enough to let loose and enjoy himself. But conscious enough to avoid making any ultra stupid decisions.

Or, he thought so, anyway.

Hobbling around the mansion, Peter pushed through crowds of partygoers. All dressed in their spookiest, sexiest, or most low-effort costumes. Twinkles of orange and violet lights kept the mansion somewhat lit. With spoOoOoOoOoky decorations scattered amongst the school. A perfectly campy atmosphere for Halloween. Oh. And those decorations? All Peter’s doing. Of course, it’s no surprise the professor deemed him prime event decorator. He took mere microseconds to spice up an entire plot of land. Throwing forth all his effort, Peter dressed the building in balls-to-the-walls, haunting decor.

Fake spiders with prickly fur lay strewn about in random places. Ghosts made of old, torn sheets swayed in the breeze. Skeletons hanged by the dozens. Streamers of orange and faded black dangled from the ceilings and doorways. String lights lined the mansion’s trim. Outside on the grounds, Peter even garnished the grass with inflatable Snoopys.

During his decorative escapades, he cracked jokes to the kids. Peter asked, “You guys think the Great Pumpkin’ll show up?”

They squealed with laughter, stomping their little feet. Candy buckets in hand, the kids yelled, “Mr. Maximoff, the Great Pumpkin’s not real!!”

In the midst of rearranging another Snoopy, he gasped, “WHAT?! He is too real!! Better not let him hear you say that!”

A haunted trail veered off into the woods surrounding the mansion. It led to an old barn, stocked full of hay and populated with jack-o-lanterns. All carved by the mutant kiddos themselves. Another set of glittering lights decorated the barn, creating an autumn glow. A pair of giant speakers - Peter paid for them, mind you - roared Halloween tunes over the entire property.

Cool stuff. Talk about a hell of a set-up. Peter couldn’t help but be proud of himself. Such a slew of decorations might put even Scrooge Mcduck himself in holiday spirits.

Wait. No. What? Scrooge Mcduck? Wasn’t he more of a Christmas thing? Fuck. Peter might be more mixed up than he thought. He gazed absentmindedly into his red solo cup again. Blinking slowly, he wondered…what the hell did Hank put in this disco concoction anyway?

Whatever. By the end of the night, Peter hoped the kids got a kick out of his hard work. Not that he broke a sweat putting it all together or anything. But he wanted to live up to his awesome teacher reputation. The highest of honors, really. No way he’d let anyone else trump him on that front.

Then again… Peter nibbled his lip, grinning to himself like a huge doofus. He took another long swig of his drink. Candy corn sweetness tickled his taste buds.

Okay. So, he might’ve had someone else in mind while he decorated. Somebody he desperately wanted to impress. A lot. Or, just a little bit, actually. Like, on a microscopic level. Maybe.

That somebody? You. Except, not really. No way.

Pffffttt…he definitely didn’t do it for you. C’mon! Why would he? Think of the kids! Those precious, lil demon spawn! They practically worshiped him. They’re what it’s all about, right? Riiiight.

Peter’s holiday decorations tempted any passing trick-or-treaters to drop by. And the professor prepared quite the spectacle of treats for them too. King sized, candy bars and all. Hank and Raven - showing off their mutant glory without an ounce of shame - passed the candy out to children.

Human children.

Magneto - still unaware he had a son sprinting around the mansion on any given day - dubbed the gesture hopeless naivety. Or something along those lines. Inviting humans to join in on a night of mutant fun? Totally bogus. Which…yeah. From Erik’s perspective? Fair enough.

“You think they’ll learn to accept you through meaningless, holiday gestures?” Erik griped, arms crossed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Raven merely rolled her eyes. She made a comment about the inherent innocence of children. Erik didn’t appear to care. He groused some more after that. But Peter didn’t hear much of it. Nor did he imagine he even wanted to. At least, not tonight. Maybe once Peter sobered up a bit, he wouldn’t mind lending an ear. If his father ever felt the need to open up about his woeful turmoil.

But Erik disappeared upstairs. Out of sight. Still in hiding, all alone. Poor dude.

Unlike his misguided papa, Peter didn’t mind human inclusion so much. One: because he considered himself a pretty open minded guy. Easy to say, since he didn’t harbor anything remotely comparable to his father’s trauma.

And two, on a less serious note: Human girls. They gravitated towards Peter like moths to a flame.

Throughout the mansion, the theme to Killer Klowns from Outer Space rang. Conversations buzzed around Peter like radio static. Candy corn booze made it impossible for him to comprehend them. Some partygoers played wallflower. Idling by snack tables, feasting on as much junk food as their stomachs could handle. It took every ounce of restraint Peter had, not to raid those tables himself.

Peter’s Terminator costume wasn’t much of a costume at all, really. It left most of the ladies confused. He didn’t recognize half the costumed cuties who pulled him in for dances. But they sure as hell recognized him. When another pretty girl pressed herself against him - tits bouncing, and bare thighs rubbing his pants - she’d ask the dreaded words, “What’re youuuu supposed to be?” Twirling her hair and giving Peter fluttery bedroom eyes.

Peter gave the same responses every time. Covered head to toe in black clothing, wearing a pair of sunglasses; he raised a prop shotgun from his back, responding with his best Arnold impression.

“I’ll be back.” Right on the money, Peter thought in his buzzed haze. Totally accurate. One to one.

If the girlies didn’t get the reference? So be it. Peter ultimately felt like a massive dork. But he got some sexually charged groovin’ out of it. A bit of groping here or there. He didn’t mind taking the L, if it meant grabbing some ass in the process.

But as the party clamored on, Peter knew he wanted only one thing.

To find you. Just to hang out, catch up, and have an innocent time. No other reason. Seriously. Honest. Why else would he wanna find you? To mess around a little bit? Nahhh. Why would he wanna fool around with you? And risk a long term friendship? He couldn't have that.

Not when you carried enough patience to put up with his day-to-day bullshit. Always listening to his senseless ramblings. Even if he spoke too fast for you to keep up.

During his lunch breaks on school days, Peter usually spent time with you. The two of you talked in the kitchen, or chillaxed in the lounge. Those chats? The highlight of his day. As corny as it seemed. He just couldn’t resist you and your kindly wiles. The wiles of his colleague. His…very pretty colleague. His…very pretty… platonic colleague.

Someone please end his misery now.

Peter wandered aimlessly. He danced his heart out and chatted up some more cute gals. Soon enough, he found you. Leaned over a set of snack tables, you picked through sugary sweet treats. Peter noticed the way you swayed in place. A little heavy footed like him, eh? He snickered to himself, sneaking up behind you.

Lacking any filter or restraint, Peter blatantly gawked at your ass. A fitted, white gown draped your body. Flowing in an angelic fashion, it harmonized with your every curve. Even tipsy, Peter recognized your costume the microsecond he saw it. Princess Leia. Star Wars. Episode IV. Very sexy. Beyond sexy, even.

A flirtatious whistle caught you by surprise. You whirled around with a doe eyed look on your face. A kind of gaze that made his brain turn to mush. As if the alcohol hadn’t already. You licked the frosting off a funky colored cupcake, as Peter’s gaze flitted down your body. His eyes followed the smooth creases of your gown. A tasteful peek of your thigh kept his attention locked. Until the perky tease of your nipples captivated him instead.

Awesome. Amazing. 11/10. Best night ever.

“Ohmygosh!” You laughed, reaching out to touch Peter’s chest for whatever reason. Not that he minded one bit, “Peeeter, I’m sooooo sorry! I’m a little tipsy right now! It’s really unprofessional!”

Scarlet bloomed in his cheeks, burning hot enough to make him dizzier. Peter ogled you like the last Twinkie on the planet. A dollop of frosting caught the plush of your lip. You swirled it away with your tongue. Drawing in a hitched breath, Peter blinked.

Focus. He needed to focus on anything else. Not the parts of you he wanted to be on, inside of, and all other configurations of carnality.

“And?? You wanna hear somethin’ cray-crayyy?” Peter asked, lamely slurring his words. He raised his red solo cup, waving it in a clumsy motion, “So am I, princess! I’m totally hammered. And I looooove it!” He threw his head back, belting a loud, “WHOOOOO!!” Feeling more like a free spirit than he had in years.

Moving closer, you couldn't control your laughs. You shushed Peter, keeping your hand on his chest. Patting you on the shoulder, Peter chuckled. He feigned offense, but his sizeable hand lingered on you. A thumb grazed the soft cloth of your dress. For a beat, he wondered what you looked like under it.

“Whyyyy?? Why should I keep it down, huh?? It’s a party, baby! Everybody’s yellin’!” He shrugged. Peter smirked, throwing his head back again. He shouted another, “WHOOOOO!!”

A crowd of partygoers kept their eyes on the two of you. Their gazes lingering for a little longer than necessary. You snickered again. So tipsy, you could hardly get a word in through your giggling.

“You really are drunk, oh my gosh. You’re crazy, Peter! I can’t even-” Dropping your head into his chest, you erupted in woozy huffs of laughter. Great. He loved the closeness, “Peter, sorry, I’m sooooooo-”

“Mind-blowingly hot?” Peter lazily blinked, “Because yer-...you-ohhhh, man. You look really hot. Like-” He made a meaningless gesture with his hands, shaking his head, “Like, WOW! Have you seen yourself? Someone tell ‘Ro to make it rain. ‘Cuz yer on fiiiiiiire!” He joked. Cheesy and lame, but too smashed to even care.

You scoffed, cheeks set ablaze, “Oh, please! Give me a break! Mister Terminator casanova over here. Are you trying to butter me up like you did all those other ladies?” Playfully, you pushed off his chest. Peter mourned the loss of your touch, “I saw you! Getting all handsy out there!” You said, your tone lighthearted. Still accusatory.

Somehow, you recognized his costume. That caught him a little off guard. Peter’s heart did some kinda funny, fluttery thing. Jumpy, warm, and beating beating beating in his chest. But…nah. Couldn’t be because of you. Could it? Maybe the booze did it. Yeah. Irradiated Beast hooch must’ve give him palpitations. He’d tell Hank about this side effect later.

Peter arched a silver brow, “Oh, yeah? Mmmhm. Sounds like yer just jealous. ‘Cuz the ladies find my inner Schwarzenegger, action hero totally irresistible.” Bullshit. Most of them thought he dressed as Neo from the Matrix. Wrong action movie. Peter kept talking out his ass, “I bet it drives you up a wall to see ‘em all over me like that.”

“Oh, you think? Suuure. Like Leia would ever have the hots for some dollar store Terminator.” You teased affectionately, “Likely story, Quickie.” Fuck. Quickie. He loved when you called him that. You deceived your own protests, pressing your body against Peter's.

Your nails dug into his shirt as you palmed his chest. So…you wanted to play this little game now, huh? Alright. Fine. Peter bickered back and forth with you for an indiscernible amount of time. Standing in a corner by the snack tables, away from the noisy, party bustle. Unbalanced and wobbly, Peter leaned in. Keeping you both pressed together in a way too intimate for wandering eyes.

He almost spilled his neon concoction on your dress. Exchanging giggles again, Peter lingered even closer. His lips on the cusp of reaching out for yours. But in a clouded moment of self awareness, he stopped himself short.

“D-Do you…uhhhh-” He swallowed dryly. His nerves buzzed all through his body, “Y’wanna…get outta here? Maybe go do somethin’ reallllyyyy dumb? Like-uh…maybe make a mistake you’ll regret in the morning?” Peter suggested, wiggling his brows.

You gave him another lidded look, igniting a blistering fire deep in his bones. With your body still pressed to his - bodacious and oh-so-tempting - you brought a hand up. A beat of silence passed, as you moved his sunglasses up over his hair. Silver strands fell loose. You gazed into his puppy dog eyes directly.

“And what makes you think I’d regret it?” You asked, your voice smooth and somewhat slurred. Oh...were you being real with him right now?

Your fingers traced flirty circles over his chest. Scorching flames in Peter’s heart burned warmth through his veins. Heat gathered in his groin. Peter’s eyes widened to a planetary degree. Clutching his solo cup a little too tight, he brushed your ass with his other hand. By accident. He only intended to pull you closer. You held his intoxicated gaze.

Peter let his lips ghost yours again, without any direct connection.

“See, that’s-uhhh…hah…that’s just the booze talkin’.” He whispered with a soft chuckle. Steadily, he pulled himself from you, “Wanna know what it’s tellin’ me?” Peter gave you another lazy grin, nibbling his lip, “Youuuuuu and meee…” He sluggishly said. He dragged you along with him. Stumbling backwards, “...should-uh…gooooo have some…adult fun, yeah? A little romp in the hay?”

Did you know he meant that verbatim? Probably not.

Moments later, Peter clumsily navigated through the party. He made a beeline for the entrance hall, holding your hand the entire way. Floundering with every step, he traversed the crowded halls. Through each doorway the two of you passed, fluttering streamers dangled above. Soft tissue brushed across your face, tickling your nose.

The streamers proved more unkind to Peter. Staggering through the last doorway, he became tangled in them. Peter tried to shake the tissue off, twisting around and flailing his arms. He cursed aloud, making a spectacle of his embarrassing predicament. Caught in a web of orange and black, he looked like a Halloween decoration all his own. The streamers wrapped around his body and arms, even covering his head.

“MOTHER FU-” He cursed, jerking the tissue down with a rough tug. Peter tripped forward in the process. But he caught himself just in time. Compensating for his humiliation, he laughed, “I’m okay! I’m okay! Allllll good, guys. I’m good. Totally good! Meant to do that, actually.” Peter cleared his throat. He averted his glassy gaze from any partygoers nearby.

One of them being Hank, who stood alongside Raven. The two shared a few drinks and quietly chatted. The big, beast of man wore torn, red flannel. His blue fur peeked out from the undone buttons, appearing frayed. His costume? A smurf werewolf. A smurfwolf. Or something. Peter couldn't tell. And Raven? She hadn’t dressed up at all. Labeling Halloween: The one time of year she chose not to disguise herself. Why? Because, in her words, "It's funnier that way."

Raven stifled a laugh at Peter’s expense. But Hank didn’t hold himself back. He roared a rumbling chuckle, “I see the serum’s treating you well, Peter!” Hank teased, cradling a drink in his fluffy paw, “Why, it certainly looks that way. You seem to be having-uhm…fun? Yes! Fun. I'm delighted to see it!"

Peter idled in the middle of the doorway, swaying a little on his feet. Forgoing the streamers, he left them tangled around his limbs. Fuck it. His costume could use some added flair.

“I’m havin’ a-uhhhhh…a total blast, Beast my mannn!” Peter slurred. He passed Hank on his way out the mansion’s entrance. And roughly patted the scientist on the shoulder, “Thanks again, buddy ol’ pal! I owe you one!”

You giggled, beaming an elated smile as Peter dragged you out the door. Once you flew ungracefully by, Hank and Raven both did double takes. They gave you cautious looks, as if to say - uh, do you think this is a good idea? A little too sloshed, you failed to register their concern. Following Peter out the door with an inelegant skip in your step, you waved the pair goodbye.

“Well, now…that’s certainly going to be awkward for him tomorrow morning.” Hank joked, looking down at his drink. He swirled the beverage, the cup appearing itty bitty in his clutch. Showing off a crowd of snaggle teeth, he yawned.

Raven shook her head, scoffing, “Oh, it’ll bite him in the ass later. That’s for sure.” She added, sipping her own drink, “You proud of yourself?” Raven quipped, arching an orange brow. Hank held up a single claw, playful in his self defense.

“Not my fault! I gave him that serum because I thought he could have fun with it! And he is! Didn’t you see him? What he does under its influence is completely out of my jurisdiction!” Hank shrugged, stating in a matter-of-fact way, “I’ll have you know, I did try to warn him!”

In hindsight, Peter should have heeded Hank’s warnings. What he did under the effects of disco liquor proved supremely stupid. The nanosecond your feet hit the grass outside, he lost any restraint he had left. Peter kissed you full on. Ushering your sweet lips into an alcohol induced session of heavy smooching. Tongues interweaving, lackadaisical and reckless, the two of you shared careless kisses. Under decorative spider webs and amongst inflatable Snoopys.

But no Great Pumpkin in sight.

You slung your arms over Peter’s broad shoulders, letting him devour you. His sizable hands slid over your hips. He pulled you closer as he stumbled like a complete klutz. Thick fingers curled into the cloth of your dress. Caught up in the heat of the moment, Peter didn’t dare consider any consequences. With no filter to hold him back, one of his palms felt for your breast. He copped a handful, before you stopped him in his tracks. You tore your lips from his candy corn kisses.

“Heyyyy! Hey, hey, hey! Not here! What are you even doing??” You laughed, giving his nose an affectionate nuzzle, “Someone might see us, doofus!”

Peter hummed, pulling you against him in a more firm grip. He stole frantic kisses, heated and mouthy. Squeezing your hips, his nails scratched across your gown to your ass. Kneading your plush cheeks with little shame.

“So what? Let ‘em enjoy the show!” Peter snickered, diving in for yet another kiss, “I’m not gonna miss out on a chance to touch you like this. Now that I finally got you…”

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t seem to take him seriously. In an attempt to pull yourself away again, you stumbled backwards in the grass. Even with his reaction time outta wack, Peter managed to catch you before you fell. In one awkward motion, he scooped you up bridal style and carried you into the woods. The streamers coiled around his limbs came loose, at long last. Flitting away behind him in the wind.

He held you in his strong arms, following the mansion’s haunted, Halloween trail. The hayride already closed down for the night, leaving the trail - and the barn - open for some private necking.

Finding his way to the barn, Peter wobbled, slowing his stride. In his arms, you took a moment to admire the decorations he put so much effort into. Orange, twinkling lights lined the barn’s entryway. Vibrant in late night darkness. Magical, and kinda romantic. Through the trees in the distance, the garnished mansion appeared visible. A Halloweeny spectacle, engulfed in simulated fog.

Party music echoed from afar, faint, but clear enough he could hear. Peter perked up, overhearing a classic, Hallow’s eve tune.

“‘CUZ THIS IS THRILLLAHHHH!” Peter shouted off key, moving backwards into the barn. His steps were careless, “THRILLAH NIIIIGHT!” He sang, falling into a bed of cool hay. Strands of straw bounced in the air. You came down with him, and he kept singing, “AND NO ONE’S GONNA SAVE YA-” He cut himself off, leaning in to feast on your lips. Peter cradled you in his arms, humming Thriller amidst awkward kisses.

You laid bridal style over his legs, dipping your head back. Inviting Peter to devour your neck like a thirsty vampire. Without all the grace of Bela Lugosi. More like a hammered Nosferatu. If either of you had second thoughts, Peter couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit. He left that baggage behind. In the morning, sober Peter could unpack it all. Right now, he wanted his hands on your body, under your dress.

“Ohhhh~! Oh my-” You moaned, tacking on an erotic squeal of his name. Giggling in a kittenish tone. The sound made him wanna bite you harder, “W-Wait-...Peter, maybe we shouldn’t-oooooh~! Maybe we shouldn’t be-”

His sloppy kisses cut your hesitance short. Peter nodded his head in a lazy, loose motion. Bringing more dizziness upon himself.

“Mmmm? What? No-...” He hummed, “Baby, we should. We definitely should. Don’t even worry-” Peter paused for an abrupt beat. Holding you tight, he adjusted in the hay. Uncomfortable, Peter knitted his brows, “Wait-...this hay’s so-...why’s this hay so fuckin’ itchy, man?”

At the chime of your silly snorts and giggles, Peter’s words became lost on him. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. He couldn’t think clearly enough to recall them. Instead, he drew his attention back to you. Peter’s lips found your neck once more. Your floral scent replenished his lungs, a lifesource he desperately needed. Hot kisses peppered down your chest. In his clouded stupor, Peter buried his face between your breasts.

He loved the flustered squeal you made in response. Enough that he couldn’t help but do it again.

“Ohhhhh…hot damn, baby.” Peter groaned into your chest, motorboating your knockers. A graceless gesture. Lifting his face, his hair appeared a disheveled mess, “Yer so awesome, y’know that? Liiiike…yer really great. I know I’m pretty drunk right now, but-uhhhh…” He slurred, sneaking thick fingers under your dress, “I do mean it. No joke. I think yer really cool. Cool and-uhm…and-uh…hahaaa….I really like you.”

You erupted in more buzzed giggles, parting your lips to protest his drunken confession. But Peter silenced you with shushes, “Shhhhhhhh! Shhhhh, don’t-” He hiccuped. Your laughs were so contagious, he couldn’t help but giggle as well, “Shhhh! Don’t tell anybody!”

“I won’t! I won’t!” You chuckled, gently holding his cheeks. You pulled him down for more smooches, lips meeting in a slower embrace, “I like you too, Peter…but shhhhhh…keep it a secret.”

His fingertips danced along your inner thigh, clumsy and unsteady. Peter’s hand disappeared between your legs and under your gown. Hot digits grazed your panties. A flimsy, soaked piece of fabric awaited those digits. Breathing a low huff, Peter whispered, “Fuck.” into your neck. The steamy word tickled your skin, giving you chills.

Blindly, he wormed his fingers into your panties. Peter dipped his digits into your honeyed heat. Thick, syrupy cushions sealed around him. He focused on parting your tight walls. A little too uncoordinated to pleasure you in a more ideal way. Rough, repetitive motions curled at an awkward angle. Digging so deep, Peter could hear the squishy call of your insides - leaking wet, all for him.

Your body tensed, knees spreading on instinct. Cool air caressed your thighs. Peering down into your lidded, baby doll eyes, he held your gaze. As your cunt pulsed around his digits, soft and constricting, he knitted his brows. Humming another groan, Peter dove down for your neck. He sucked mouthy, wet hickies into your skin. Leaving gifts for sober you to discover later tomorrow.

Speaking of sober.

Sober Peter never had trouble keeping up with anybody. Moreover, everyone else found it impossible to keep up with him. But in his buzzed daze, he could barely follow your lead. One blink, and his fingers buried themselves to the knuckle in your cunt. The next blink, you took initiative. Throwing him for a loop, you changed positions. You pushed Peter further back into the hay, straddling his lap.

As you fumbled for his jeans and pulled them open, more giggling ensued. Heated tension hung over the two of you like those glimmering, barn lights. You felt around, guiding your hand to a hot thickness in his pants. It rested in a curly bed of silver hairs, limp and untouched. Your giggles ceased, and your expression shifted.

“Peter, you’re not even-” You started, squeezing the softness of him in your hand. You gave him a few loose tugs, your voice teeming with hesitance, “Are you…are you sure you want-”

“Yeaaaahhhhh. Yeah. Yanno, it’s just-...I never thought I’d be the one gettin’ whiskey dick. Haha.” Peter joked, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. Buzzed and uncoordinated, Peter harbored little patience for foreplay. His fingers sought for your weeping heat again. He pushed them through your soft, supple pussy lips, “Sucks a lot. I was really hopin’ I’d get to-uhmmm…ahahaaaa…” He bit his tongue, laughing, “Really wanted to show you a good fuckin’ time. But this shit feels like rocket science right now, sorry…”

Eventually, through sheer determination, you worked up enough sorcery to liven him up. Waking his cock from its soft slumber. Peter fumbled, clumsily guiding his dick to your flowery mound. It took some serious concentration on his part to do so. His tongue poked between his lips, brows furrowed tight. He leered between your sweltering bodies. Humid air clung to his skin, contrasting the sharp coolness of an October’s night. The smell of booze permeated in your sweat, mingling with the scent of your perfume.

You sank over his cock, taking the now raging length of him fluidly. He bottomed out in a single intake of breath. Peter moaned, rolling his hips upward. Your fluttery walls stretched, cozy and soft around his dick. He dropped his head back into the hay, howling a goofy shout. It echoed through the trees, catching autumn wind.

"OHHHHHHH~! THAT'S IT! WHOOOOOO~!" He yelled. Peter chewed his lip hard, meeting your bounces with sluggish thrusts, "That's it. That's what I'm fuckin' talkin' about. Hoh-fuck..."

His rhythm was a little off beat, but he blamed the booze. Clenching the fabric of your dress in his fingers, he bunched it up tight. As if to hold you by horse’s reins, arduously guiding you on your ride.

Far in the back of his mind. Like, so far, Peter may as well have been on another planet. He had his first conflicting thought. Screwing you for the first time like this - hammered and careless - struck him as kind of…wrong. Really, he should have waited it out, and done this sober. But Peter couldn’t deny himself either.

"Peter, ohhh~! Feels really good~!" Your squeals of erotic, but sluggish pleasure sounded too much like music. Now cemented as one of his all time favorite songs, "Sooo good, I-aaahhh~!"

The bubbly feeling brought upon by Beast liquor made his body burn with ecstasy. His cock throbbed inside you, loving the tight embrace of your walls. Pleasure burned to an incomprehensible level of intensity.

Even your dress felt unreasonably soft on his skin. Peter moaned again, drilling your cunt in unsteady surges of carnal bliss. He breathed thickly, the air between the two of you now sweltering. Choking on air, he kept his slow pace. His cock dug tunnels through your walls at a slacking speed. Completely unnatural for him. But overflowing with intoxication, he thrived in it.

“N-Not gonna-” Peter laughed. His voice a rough, breathless mess of incoherency. Sticky heat flushed his cheeks, and his tone wavered, “‘M not-...god…not gonna last. Fuck. Oh my fucking-” He swallowed another groan, suffocating on it. Peter’s hips rolled, their movement leisurely, “Sooooo tight. Feels like yer tryna-...like yer gonna-...aaaahaaaaafuck.”

Playing with your pearly clit, you squealed. The swollen nub burned, tingling as you circled it. With difficulty focusing, Peter brought his head up. He watched your little fingers while you pleasured yourself. His lidded, dark eyes stared, so spacy, so clouded. A growl caught in the back of his throat. You toyed with yourself a little longer, spreading glossy slickness under your fingers.

Your whines stayed at a respectable volume. Quiet enough, no one outside the barn could hear. But Peter refused to keep his enthusiastic voice down. He dug his big hands into your hips, fingernails clenching your dress. Scratching rough lines into the white cloth.

"Fuck, you gonna-...you gonna keep touchin' yourself like that? Gonna cum for me?" His words slurred. Peter used his immeasurable strength to hold you in place. Stuffing his cock through your pussy’s luscious, spongy grip. He fucked you in lethargic, but needy ruts, "P-Please-ohmygod-...please cum for me, baby. Lemme hear it, please?"

"Noooo~! Pe-ahhhh~! Peter, I cannnn't! Someone might-...Peter I can't-" You whimpered. Swirling your clit, you pushed yourself even further towards climax. A delightful, oncoming wave of scorching pleasure surged in your body. Sizzling through your veins, "OH, FUCK, QUICKIE~!" A sharp squeal bounced from your throat, as Peter surprised you.

"FUCK!! Yeah? You sound so fuckin'-Ah-...Yer so fuckin' good for me. Don't hold back, baby. Wanna-ohhhh~! Wanna hear you scream. Don't you fuckin' hold back-" Moving suddenly fast, he slammed his cock in deeper. His cherry red dick shattered your poor cervix. Burying himself to the brim, he slapped your mound hard with sharp pounds of his pelvis, "Mmmmmmfucking-...gonna fuckin'....aaaahhaha..."

Peter’s body tensed. His heels scuffed along the ground, crushing hay under his boots as he braced his feet. More loose strands tickled his skin where his shirt bunched up. Making him itchy again. But his intoxicated rutting never dwindled. He whined again, his voice cracking. Ruthless, quickening grinds of his cock knocked you hard. Sending you straight into a dimension of overwhelming, euphoric pleasure.

As tremors hummed across your sweaty skin, bliss ruptured deep in your core. At that moment, Peter forgot to consider any further risks. He burst with a hot, white pop of gluey heat. Rocking your sore cunt in sloppy, shallow thrusts. Peter soaked his dick in your sweet, inebriated love. The scent of booze and sex simmered in his nostrils. Lifting his hips, he met you in one or two more reckless, offbeat bounces.

Barely conscious of reality, Peter panted. Lying with you in a clumsy heap, he shared lazy kisses and steamy breaths with you. Had he been anymore sober, Peter would’ve rushed you off to the nearest bathroom. In dire need of a minute’s recovery, he laid there. Splayed out, Peter’s limbs rested loose and flimsy. The seconds passed, and he sobered up quickly. Post-orgasmic haziness began to clear.

You snuggled up next to him, grazing his cheek with your nose. The scent of alcohol lingered on your breath. Remind Peter that, unlike him, you were probably still a little drunk.

“You okay?” You asked out of the blue, tickling his neck with a giggle, “What are you thinking about? You’re not second guessing yourself already, are you?” Your fingers toyed with the zipper of his jacket. Which he gave you to wear in the cold, shortly after fucking you senseless.

In the distance, the faint roar of the party continued on. Rustling from inside the mansion and seemingly endless. Peter stayed silent, before snickering. He turned his head to the side, returning your nuzzles with a kiss. His lips met your hair. The smell of your conditioner made his heart skip a beat for some reason.

“Nothin’. It’s not-” He shrugged, turning his head again. Peter stared up at the glittering string lights hanging in the barn. His coffee bean eyes jumped from twinkle to twinkle, “It’s not super important. Kinda weird to be thinkin’ about it after-uh…” His voice trailed off again. Peter cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush, “Seriously, no big deal.”

You rolled onto your back, watching the lights sway in a cool breeze, “You sure?” You laughed, humming an, “Uh ohhh!” Before you continued, “Did somebody sober up and realize he made a dumb mistake? Hehe…” You teased, though he could hear the sliver of hesitance in your tone. A beat of silence passed, and you hugged his jacket closer.

“Regret wh-...huh? Nahhh, baby. You kiddin’? That was awesome.” He snickered awkwardly. Peter brought his hands to his face. He sighed, “I-uh…I was just thinkin’ about how…I could be spendin’ this holiday with my dad. I mean, shit…maybe he wouldn’t wanna spend it with me, but-”

He assumed you might take offense to this. Wouldn't it come off as a little inconsiderate? To think about his dad right now. After such an intimate moment between the two of you. But being the understanding person you were, you rolled over to face him. Drawing gentle lines into his shirt, you snuggled up close to him again.

“Is that where you wanna be right now? With your dad?” You asked, your tone gentle.

Peter swallowed, pinching the bridge of his nose. A pounding headache swarmed him from nowhere. The repercussions of Beast hooch. Hopefully, such ailments would pass just as quickly as he sobered up.

“I-...yeah? I guess? But…it’s not like I can just-...like, I can’t go see him. Since he still doesn’t know about me, y’know? It’d be weird if I just showed up on Halloween. Like, hey, man, wanna hang out? Goddammit.” Peter shook his head, sitting up fully in the hay. Straw-like strands stuck to his clothes. He brushed them away.

“Well…hey, I got an idea, yeah?” You tried to follow his lead, sitting upward. Swaying a little as you did, Peter could tell you were still on the edge of tipsy. You giggled, “Let’s go inside. And I’ll…try to get everyone together for a movie. Maybe a horror? And you can run off! Go find him. Use the movie as an excuse. Offer him the opportunity to come down and watch. Sound good?”

It didn’t. Erik wasn’t the type to indulge in such activities. Still, Peter smiled fondly at your consideration. Nodding, he stood to his feet in a flash. You blinked, finding yourself lying bridal style in his arms again. With a hand to his chin, you tilted his head down. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thanks…” He hummed, his half lidded eyes gazing down into yours, “I really did have…such an awesome time with you. I haven't done that kinda thing with anybody in a while. But lemme-uh…” Peter bashfully chuckled, “Lemme get you to a bathroom so you can clean up, 'kay? ”

After the surprisingly deep chat he shared with you, Peter rushed you off to a mansion bathroom. Leaning against a wall, he waited outside the door. As the party settled and people filed out into the streets, he became more nervous. The two of you spent the rest of the night together, by the other’s side. Treating each other as normally as you would any other day. Soon, you sobered up enough to gather the X-family for a late night movie.

Peter took your advice, despite expecting the worst. Zipping upstairs and all through the mansion, he searched for his estranged father. To Peter’s surprise, Erik caught him off guard with a yes. But before he made his way downstairs, Peter took a moment to chat with him. He asked Erik how he was doing, and what he’d been up to. Ever since he chose the mansion for a temporary hideout (an arrangement most everybody felt uncomfortable with).

Erik - for good reason - wasn’t the most emotionally open. He kept their conversation short, before dismissing Peter. They both caught up with everyone else in the living room. The X-family sat together with snacks and drinks, joined for a movie. Erik chose a spot next to Peter on one of the sofas. Something he hadn’t anticipated at all. Since he didn’t get much out of the guy too often, he felt he could settle for his company, at least.

Sitting at Peter's other side, you eventually passed out. You rested your head on his lap, and he raked his fingers through your hair. By the time the movie ended, everyone veered off for bed. At last, calling Hallow’s eve quits. But Erik remained. He spoke to Peter a little while longer. Chatting about nothing at all, and everything at once.

Come next morning, Peter stood tiredly in the mansion kitchen. It was an unreasonably cold Monday in November. Freezing weather seemed to hit Westchester out of nowhere. He held a mug full of coffee, milky white and loaded with enough sugar to send anyone else to the hospital. Scratching his head over a mess of silver hair, Peter yawned. Even though he had more important things to worry about, he couldn't stop thinking about last night. For several reasons.

The impromptu bonding time he spent with his father lingered in his mind. Even if said father didn’t know what their interactions meant to Peter. It happened all thanks to your tipsy encouragement. Peter knew, even sober, you would’ve pushed him to do the same. Because you cared about him that much. Always inspiring him to step out of his comfort zone.

Aside from the estranged dad stuff, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more…steamy moments the two of you shared. Intimate interactions he still hadn’t sat down and discussed with you. Peter didn't have a clue what that little fling meant to you. Or if it meant anything at all. Distracting himself, he focused his attention elsewhere. Like the Halloween decorations littered about the mansion. He planned to take them down today after classes.

You came padding downstairs and into the kitchen not even five minutes later.

“Gooooood morning!” You cheerily said, blinking your sleepy eyes. Groaning, you brought a hand to your head. Your fingers touched your temple, “You know what’s surprising? I actually don’t have that bad of a hangover!”

Peter’s heart did flips, and he felt his stomach tangle in knots. Humming into his coffee, he threw you a casual nod of his head. Play it cool, “Mmmm. That’s good, though, right?”

You headed straight for the cabinets, standing on your toes to reach the highest one. You flailed around for the near-empty tub of coffee grounds. He left it up there without any consideration for short, mansion inhabitants like you. Totally absent-minded. Peter almost felt thankful he did. As you reached, the itty bitty, sleep shorts you wore rose by a touch. The cheeks of your ass caught his eye. Your bottom appeared etched in faint scratches, painted with red splotches. Damn…what the hell did he do to you last night?

Sipping his coffee with a groggy look on his face, Peter grinned.

Man alive, he wanted to screw you sober. Doing it drunk really wasn’t enough. Quickly, he dismissed that thought. Filing it away in his scatterbrained memory for later.

“Did you talk to Erik last night?” You asked, pulling Peter from his not-so-safe-for-work thoughts. You stretched a little further up, really reaching for that tin tub of Folgers.

Peter blinked, “Sorry, what?”

“Erik. I asked if you talked to him last night? Because I kinda remember you two having a chat. But then again, I was pretty out of it!” Your shorts hugged the shape of your cunt as you stood on your toes. An ache stirred in his groin, but he shook it off. Holy shit. What were you trying to accomplish here?

Peter’s heart skipped twenty beats. Sifting through the disorganized cabinets in his brain, he retrieved his previous thought. Ah, yeah. Screwing you sober? Not a want, but a need at this point. Focus, Quickie. He needed to focus. Especially if you planned on talking about something as important as his father.

“Uhhhh…” He ran a hand through his messy locks, taking a moment to process his racing thoughts, “Yeah, we talked. Not a lot, though. I meant to say thanks for that, by the way. Since I didn’t get to last night…” Peter brought his mug to his lips, averting his gaze, “Really. Thanks a lot. Don’t think we woulda had that time together, if you hadn’t pushed me to ask him 'n stuff.”

Still struggling to reach for that tin, you sighed. Your heels hit the floor, as you lowered your arm and turned to meet Peter’s eyes. Your sweet voice brought him an unexpected feeling of comfort.

“Hey, anytime, Peter! I know it’s been really hard for you. Seeing him around here lately. And you don’t need me to tell you the obvious. But-” You timidly gazed down at your toes, shrugging. Peter knew exactly what you were about to say, before you parted your lips to say it.

Something along the lines of: Maybe it’s finally time you told him the truth. Or whatever.

It was too early for this kinda deep, introspective talk. Peter didn’t give you the chance to continue. Setting aside his mug on a countertop, he appeared by your side in a fwip. The breeze from his abrupt movement tickled your cheeks. He reached into the cabinet for the tub of coffee grounds. Handing it off to you with a tired, hooded expression. He sluggishly grinned.

“We got class in, like, twenty minutes.” Peter interrupted, and you took the bait. Whether you knew of his intent to dissuade the previous conversation, he couldn’t tell.

“Oh! Yeah! Shit!” You slapped a hand over your forehead. Peter gazed down at you, admiring your early morning features, “I’m so screwed!” Not yet you’re not, “I totally forgot to put together a lesson plan! I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do today!” Well…you could always do him. Again.

Jeez. Dude. No. The hell’s wrong with him?? Be reasonable, guy! At least take your buddy out to dinner first. Which...yeah. Might be time to think about asking you on a real date.

“Yeahhh. I kinda forgot too. Had a bunch of other stuff on my mind, yanno?” Peter said, completely lethargic. He shrugged, “I’m so bad at my job, man.” He kept his eyes on you, as you threw together your own pot of coffee.

“Actually, that’s bullshit. And I think you know it too. You’re amazing at it. That’s why all the kids love you so much.” You replied. Smiling like you meant every word. Because you did. Man, why'd you have to be so freakin' sweet?

Early morning sunlight beamed through the windows. It bathed your hair and face in sparkling gold. Peter wanted to kick himself for swooning. He opted to change subjects.

“I gotta take these decorations down eventually.” He said, gesturing to the streamers hanging from the kitchen ceiling. For an instant, he remembered tangling himself in them last night, “I keep puttin’ it off. But it’s gotta happen sooner ‘er later.” Taking initiative, he reached up to tear some of them down. Balling them up in his hands.

“I could help you! If you need an extra hand!” You offered, innocently sipping your coffee. Peter took in the curl of your lips as you smiled. He cleared his throat, chuckling.

“Y’know you don’t have to, babe. It’ll literally only take me a second. I just gotta stop sittin’ on my ass.” Peter said. He tossed the balled streamers with a failed, Michael Jordan-style execution. They landed in a nearby trashcan, “Pretty soon, I’m gonna have to put Christmas decorations up too. Might get started on 'em as soon as these ‘re down.” He smirked, “I’m thinkin’ I get everyone some seriously ugly sweaters. Even Mags, if he's still around by then. Oh, and I'll need more Snoopys. The crotch goblins love Snoopy.” Peter paused for a beat, his dark eyes drifting down your body. A subconscious instinct, “And-uhhhh…gonna need lots of tinsel…uh…”

Peter reached for his coffee mug. What was he talking about again?

“Oh? That all sounds nice!” You tilted your head to the side, flirtatiously grinning at Peter. As if you could tell how distracted he was by your body. Heat set aflame in his cheeks, as he glanced up into your eyes. Noticing the way they seemed to twinkle, “Think you’ll decorate the barn again too?” You asked, a flirtatious tease pouring through your tone.

He choked on his coffee mid-sip.

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #txt #happy belated halloween !!! oooooo !!

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