#maybe middle school reading level
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asking this question for future me: hi, um, when i soon start applying for colleges and they ask for my reading list/bibliography. how do i tell them that my reading interests are strictly fiction. and most books i read have pictures in them. and i have basically no interest in anything else.
#i actually have a very high reading comprehension#however#all of my hyperfixations are usually tv shows/media made for kids ages like 8-12#as listed:#octonauts#sonic the hedgehog#dca fandom#fnaf#cuphead#(kinda)#ninjago#and all the ones with books are for like a 5th grade-ish reading level#i have a few real good minecraft books but theyre still like#maybe middle school reading level#the few “adult” books i have are all like#how-to books#like wilderness survival guides#and like self-defense manuals#and kids' books about animals and stuff#i have... the bible??? does that count???#well i guess not bc i read niv version#so i guess my bible counts as the kids' version too#the people reading my college applications are gonna be all like#“??? is this a child sending this in??”#“we can't... accept 4th graders. sorry” *declines*
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Finally actually finished the Book of Bill and it had some surprising but very good and very fitting psychological horror. I can never say no to psychological horror. Also "He may be a god, but I'm a scientist!" goes hard as fuck. It all shows that Ford was really suffering as well as Stanley, maybe even moreso.
I definitely like how the Book of Bill is aimed for more mature audiences, since it's fanbase is mostly adults now. It doesn't even feel very different than other Gravity Falls media other than some more mature language and themes.
Definitely beats reading some Rick Riordan books which hold your hand the whole way through. He needs to go back to 1st person fr because the original PJO and the ToA series were so peak and his 3rd person stuff just feels so bland in comparison. Tbh I have to force myself to give a shit about HoH. The Sun and the Star was pretty good but also really cheesy and the sometimes the book just felt like "omg Nico is so twaumatized twauma twauma twauma." The original PJO actually felt a lot darker than tSatS, because we had a first-person look into Percy's mind and feelings, which are actually really fucking brooding. Also Nyx should've been SO much more intimidating. Also also I wish Will got some actual character development instead of being so focused on Nico all the time.
Dunno why this turned into a tSatS rant. Don't get me wrong, the PJO universe will always have a special place in my heart. And Rick's writing beats that misogynistic TERF's any day.
#book of bill#book of bill spoilers#my posts#rick riordan#gravity falls#the sun and the star#percy jackson#fuck jkr#lmao#Anyway Percy Jackson is both my older brother and my son#huge fucking rant#Maybe it felt weird to read The Sun And The Star because I had JUST finished House of Leaves lmao#I think I'd graduated from middle school level books after that
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i just remembered in 5th grade i won an award for reading the most words book wise in my class (what a weird award to go by word numbers imo) but i also kinda cheated a lil technically lol bc my mom was a teacher there id have to get there when she did so id sit in her class and take AR tests for fun bc she could put the password in n not like i didnt actually read the books lol but oh my god i rly took AR tests for fun lmao but the email i made that yr thats still my main email was my AR username plus my fav number lol
#i also took AR tests for fun in middle school but its bc i got fun rewards for that and i again was reading the books anyway#reading level score tests were a scam imo tho bc all u had to do was use context clues n not actually know word meanings so ez af#but maybe that was the point actually huh#idk i was reading at a 12th grade level by 9 according to those so like lmao#batbaby rambles
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Can you tell my ass went from a mid 9th/10th grade English level to a fucking elementary level 💀
#okay maybe im being a littleeeee dramatic it’s prob somewhere in the middle school levels#idk#i should really start reading again
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#jigen#napoleon's dictionary#video#i feel like a lot of the writing for jigen just feels sexist now which like also just the writing for the series in general actually#you know#but hes right here! like ignoring the youth and beauty line you should go live your life!!#like maybe i am reading too much into it but so much of his life is guns and violence and he is telling her get out while you can!!!!#middle school level analysis in the tags 💪💪#i will MAKE IT HAVE MEANING
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#One day when I actually have the time for this I’m gonna write out an entire thing addressing on like. The nature of imperialism bc tbh#Some of y’all on here#1) have no goddamn clue what imperialism is. Even and sometimes especially if they call themselves an ‘anti-imperialist’ and#2) take on a laughably simplistic and nonsensical view on what is and isn’t imperialism. To the point where it’s like are you even trying.#This is middle school level reasoning#Anyways I would like to point it out that although he’s not a bad resource. Some of you guys seem to be unaware#That Lenin. Is not the end all be all of anti-imperialism!! Nor was he the inventor of the field or movement!!#And you really should be reading *more* than *just* lenin to get a good sense of the subject . Maybe even *gasp* someone who was#Actively more directly experiencing the effects of imperialism. Like you know. Anyone from the global south#But anyways beyond that. Even with just Lenin’s work on anti imperialism. I feel like some of y’all’s engagement with him on this is utterl#Moronic. Bc some of y’all do legitimately go ‘country says they’re communist/country has socialist policies = country is physically#incapable of being imperialist’ like genuinely are you stupid#Bc Lenin’s work is about how imperialism is the highest form of capitalism bc you are essentially exploiting a whole nation for profit and#Treating it like a commodity like you would any other commodity in capitalism. Like that’s the whole point#So like. If a country does in fact inflict that on another nation/country/whatever. That is in fact imperialism no matter what the supposed#Economic system or domestic policies of that country is.#But also that being said. I think some of y’all are being remarkably dismissive about the imperial nature of Armed Military Conquest#Which is truly and utterly insane!!!!!
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SOMETIMES YOU NEED TO ENGAGE WITH 'PROBLEMATIC' MEDIA IN ORDER TO DEVELOP YOUR CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS
gotta be real serious here, promoting media literacy is kind of The Goal as far as trying to get people to stop needlessly absorbing shitty ideas from media. purity culture stuff like judging and shaming them isn't just unhelpful in that it tends to shut people off from becoming more progressive, it's actively harmful because it promotes a LACK of media literacy. the goal shifts from trying to interface with the media and interpret what it's saying and means to just trying to consume the "good" media and only absorb "good" ideas.
id much rather have a friend who's really into cop shows but understands the harm they do than someone who only reads anti-racist literature but absorbs none of it
#ur so right cemeterything#man this reminds me of when jk rowling was first getting canceled and it wasnt Quite as obvious as it is now#and i picked up some of the hp books again like 'separating the art and artist'#and looking at them again for the first time since middle school post ap lang ap lit and ib lit and all these college level english classes#it was like a fucking lightbulb went off#i was like 'holy shit how did i not see all this racism how did i not see all these underlying biases being pushed in these books'#honestly its kind of valuable to read those books again and see this shit#and if hypothetically someone were to read it for the first time and someone told them 'hey be careful its kinda racist' they would be#on the lookout for that and not just absorbing those ideas and Maybe unpacking them later
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AUGH i love reading trans academic literature
#started reading transfeminist perspectives (edited by anne enke) from and im not far in whatsoever and already so enamoured#it came out in 2012 so im thinking its going to be interesting put into the context of being right in the middle of where she posits the#start of transgender studies is (1991) and present time. like she mentions‚ the language of trans studies changes so quickly!#[trans] is not simply a noun. [...] it is a motion anticipating a second; it enacts‚ it continues with a question‚ and a star.#i love that. i think the use of 'trans-' and 'trans*' has slightly fallen out the wayside (except for maybe 101 places? but i dont hang in#those spaces anymore) but i think thats such a lovely way of putting that. okay back to reading.#also its kind of exciting on a more egoistic level to be read academic literature and be able to. you know. understand what theyre saying.#maybe itll get harder as i get more into the weeds of the book but i am happy im grasping some of the more esoteric/academic language.#always a fear!#ALSO. ITS SO COOL TO START RECOGNIZING NAMES THAT GET BROUGHT UP. I HAVE TO ACTUALLY READ THE PERSISTENT DESIRE. JOAN NESTLE.........#<- they have it at my schools library and i checked it out once its just... video games are so fun to play...#and if im reading academia all day even if it gets a little less formal in terms of language its still just too exhausting to read#as to why im reading this while on break from school! hooray!
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The world is so hostile to tweens.....
Like we joke about how our schools growing up would ban the latest toy trends, but that reality genuinely horrific when you think about it. Like maybe 1% of the bans were based on safety, but the rest cited reasoning like
-"kids were bartering for collectibles" (kids learning about economics and product value)
-"kids were wearing them and the colors were too flashy" (kids experimenting with self expression and fashion)
-"kids were playing with them during lunch and recess instead of using our rusted safety hazard playground" (kids utilizing their free time to do what helps *them* unwind).
Play areas specifically geared towards children and especially towards teens are constantly being shut down. "Oh kids today are always on their phones!" Maybe because
-there are barely any arcades left and even less arcades that aren't adult-oriented,
-public pools and gyms are underfunded and shut down,
-"no loitering" laws prevent kids and teens from just hanging out,
-movie theatres only play the latest films and ticket prices are only rising,
-parks and playgrounds are either neglected or replaced with gear only directed at toddlers and unsuitable for anyone older
-genuine children's and young teen media is being phased out in favour of media directed only at very small children or older teens and adults.
-suburbs and even cities are becoming more and more hostile to pedestrians, it's just not safe for kids to walk to or ride their bikes to their friends' houses or other play destinations
Children's agency is hardly ever respected. Kids between the ages of 9-13 are either treated as babies or as full-grown adults, with no in-between. When they ask to be given more independence, they are either scoffed at or given more responsibilities than are reasonable for a child their age.
This is even evident in the fashion scene.
Clothing stores and brands like Justice and Gap are either closing or rebranding to either exclusively adult clothing or young children's clothes, with no middle ground for tweens. Tweens have to choose between clothes designed for adults that are too large and/or too mature for their age and bodies, or more clothes they feel are far too childish. For tween girls especially it's either a frilly pinafore dress with pigtails or a woman's size dress with cleavage. No wonder tween girls these days dress like they're older, it's because their other option is little girl clothes and they don't want to feel childish.
And then when tweens go to school, the books they want to read aren't available because they cover "mature" topics (read: oh no two people kissed and they weren't straight or oh no menstruation was mentioned or oh no a religion other than Christianity is depicted), so kids are left with books for way below their reading level. No wonder kids today are struggling with literacy, it's because they can't exercise and expand their reading skills with age-appropriate books. Readers need to be challenged with new words and concepts in order to grow in their skills, only letting tween read Dr. Seuss and nursery rhymes doesn't let them learn.
Discussions about substance use, reproduction, and sexuality aren't taught at an age-appropriate level in school or even by children's parents, so they either grow up ignorant and more vulnerable to abuse, or they seek out information elsewhere that is delivered in a less-than-age-appropriate manner. It shouldn't be a coin-toss between "I didn't know what sex was until I was 18 and in college" or "my first exposure to sex as a tween was through porn" or "I didn't know what sex was so I didn't know I was being sexually abused as a kid."
Tweenhood is already such a volatile and confusing time for kids, their bodies are changing and they're transitioning from elementary to middle to high school. It's hard enough for them in this stage, but it's made worse by how society devalues and fails them.
We talk about the disappearance of teenagehood, and maybe that's gonna happen in the future, but the erasure of tweenhood is happing in real time, and it's having and going to have major consequences for next generation's adults.
#leftie shit#i guess#ageism#social issues#tweenhood#the disappearance of tweenhood#current events#relevant issues
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just had a free therapy session in my dream with an old middle school classmate (not even a friend) about a friendship that went from 0 to 100 to -100000 last last year. it was so intense and felt so real that it woke me up earlier than expected
#nube text#gonna do my introspection in the tags bc i’m on mobile#classmate is gonna be called a and other friend is gonna be called f#so my dream didn’t immediately start with a and f talking to each other#there were events that led up to it and in these events i was angry and felt betrayed by f’s actions#i hung out with other people smoked read some books and was teaching a class at my old middle school#(just realized maybe that’s why i dreamt about a)#anyway a and f were hanging out and i guess at one point f told a what happened between me and him from his perspective#and i didn’t hear it at all in my dream but a told me he heard what happened#bc he confronted me and wanted to know why i treated f terribly#and in my dream i told a my perspective abojt what happened and basically owned up to some thoughts i’ve had in real life#but never expressed#which is that i became obsessed with f thinking i had fallen in love with him and whatnot#and felt entitled to his love to since i was being such a great friend to him#“great friend’ yeah i wasn’t tho and i was realizing this unconsciously as my dream went on#i began to ignore f once he started dating his roommate (in real life) and i said so to a in my dream#and i said it was because i felt deeply hurt and confused#which is true but i think i was more hurt that he didn’t love me back in the way i wanted him too#i guess i saw him as an object of my obsession that relates to a more internal and subconscious level#and ive felt and done almost the same exact thing to two other people in my life who i thought i was in love with#but now and i’ve begun to realize this too that what i experienced wasn’t love but obsession#and i have never really fallen in love with someone#like i don’t know the feeling#anyways the whole point of it was that i feel deeply sorry for f#i felt sorry before but not for the reasons i should have felt sorry#i hurt him in a lot of ways also acted in terrible ways to him#and my avoidance of him (bc we lived in the same co-op whoops) was more of a result of guilt#i’m not able to contact him anymore so all that’s left for me is to reconcile and accept the hurt i caused him#and forgive myself for it because it something i’ve been holding on to for over a year now; the guilt and all of it#anyways that’s what my dream was about; there’s context missing i know but i just needed to talk it out somewhere
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Inked Desires - Part 2
Read Part 1 right here
Summary: After your one night stand with a stranger turns into a regular hookup, feelings begin to develop between you and Natasha. A night out at the bar with your friends has her begging wanting more with you.
Pairing: gp!Natasha x fem!Reader
Tags MINORS DNI: natasha has a dick, buff out this world & covered with tats and piercings, little bit of yearning and pining, mentions of alcohol, smut, blowjob, unprotected sex, breeding, begging, miscommunication
Masterlist
A/N: Part 1 blew up like crazy! I never ever thought I would EVER get that many notes. Especially for, essentially, a smut piece I wasn't used to writing. After being asked a few times, I agreed to make a part 2, buuut I've been in a (bad) writing rut lately. So I wanna shout out the person who gave me so many good ideas and an actual plot to work with. Y'all can thank just her for there actually being a part 2 cause there almost wasn't one 🙏 Thanks for helping, kisses for your big brilliant brain.
Hopefully, she and y'all like it? It's a bit longer. Let me know what you think, please, and thank you thank you so much for reading 💞
That being said, there will be a part 3 😄
"Split? Like down the middle?" Kate asks with a look of shock on her face. You walk in step beside her along the concrete path on campus.
"Right down the middle," you laugh and adjust the bag on your shoulder, thinking back to just a few days ago when Natashas skillful tongue worked its magic on your body. Your cheeks heat up at the memory.
That first night you met, Natasha had given you a kiss goodbye and gave you her number before you took a very drunk Kate Bishop home. Since then you had seen the redhead multiple times over the course of the last few weeks. Neither of you seemed to be able to keep your hands off of each other. Each time you met it was for sex, and even the time she had taken you to dinner it ended with you getting fucked into her mattress again.
You knew the basics about each other, where you lived, eachothers jobs... the more you thought about it the more it upset you. The physical level the two of you were on was heavenly, but really, well, you barely knew her.
Kates voice interrupts your thoughts as you enter the English building, and you stop walking as she does.
"What was that?" You ask, looking to the smirk plastered on her face with curiosity.
"I said, speak of the devil," she chuckles and nods her head in the direction of a very tall Natasha striding your way. "See you in there," Kate says and walks into the classroom, leaving you in the hallway.
You want to drown in the sight of her, wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt with old, dirty vans on her feet. You smile, trying not to drool at the way you can see the pops of color show from underneath her shirt or the way the sleeves seem too tight against her biceps as she grips the strap of her backpack.
"Hey there..." Natasha greets you with a smile, head pointing down as she stills before you. "Been a few days, haven't heard from you," she adds, her eyes baring into yours. You want to slap yourself for not replying to her text by the almost hurt look in her eyes.
"Well it hasn't even been a week, you miss me already?" You ask her with a little tilt of your head up at her, biting your lip as you see a blush spread across her cheeks. Her hand moves to the side of her neck, scratching at the ink awkwardly.
"No, no. Wait, I mean -" She lets out a sigh and shakes her head as you giggle at her. It was interesting, the difference in her appearance verses this nervous demeanor. "Maybe I did?" Natasha raises an eyebrow, the silver ring lifting higher.
"I might have missed you too," you shrug casually and watch as her face eases back into a smile. "I'm sorry I haven't texted, I've just been so busy with school and work." You point to the classroom next to you that Kate had entered. She follows the direction and nods.
"No worries, you're a busy lady. I actually took Mr. Furys class last year. Maybe I could take you for a coffee and give you some tips? Or maybe just um, talk?" Natasha asks, her tone quiet as she looks down to you.
You smile at the sincerity in her eyes. "I'm free after this class?" You take a step back, towards the room and match the wide smile on her lips.
"Sounds perfect," Natasha nods, and you can't ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest. Instead of taking another step away you walk forward, leaning up on your tip toes to press a soft kiss to her cheek.
Natasha can feel the burn on her cheeks, the affect you had on her drove her wild. You lean back and smile at her flustered state, leaving her alone in the now empty hallway.
An hour and a half later, you emerge from the classroom, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around at the sight of Natasha sitting on the floor. She had a book in her hand, closing it the moment she saw you and Kate walking towards her.
"Have you been sitting there this whole time?" You ask and tilt your head, watching the way her muscles flex as she runs a hand through her auburn hair.
"Uh, maybe?" A small blush hints on her cheeks, and she smiles at you and your friend. "I'm Natasha, by the way," she says and holds out her hand in front of Kate.
Kate chuckles at the formality, and you hit her arm, giving her a look. She shakes Natashas hand, "Kate... nice to finally meet you," She smiles back and looks next to her at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, you should invite your friend."
You roll your eyes at Kates tease but nod and tell her you'll see her later.
"Coffee?" Natasha asks, and the ridiculous grin on her face is enough for you to agree to just about anything.
As you walk side by side, you can't help but admire her gentle personality. This woman, covered in tattoos and piercings with an intimidating gaze, was the complete opposite. She spoke to you about her schedule and that she was in school for sports medicine with a glint in her eyes.
"Like physical therapy?" You ask her curiously. You watched the way her face lit up at your interest, and she beamed down to you.
"Yeah, exactly that. If all else fails, I'll just be a personal trainer," she lets out a small chuckle, and you take the second she holds the door open for you to admire her toned body.
"How do I sign up? I need a good workout partner," you say with a flirtatious tone, brushing against her as you walk inside. You relish the blush on her cheeks and the small smirk on her lips as the smell of fresh coffee hits you.
"Didn't get a good enough workout last week?" Natasha replies.
"Oh, I had a great workout... but if I had a personal trainer, I'm sure I could get a good workout in at least a few times a week. Isn't that recommended?" You look up to her, seeing her neck redden and her eyes darken.
"I would definitely recommend that," Natasha mumbles as the two of you walk up to the counter.
As Natasha orders, you can't help but notice the change in her posture and attitude. Suddenly, she was standing straight, an impassive and series look on her face. Her tone was low as she talked to the woman at the counter. Natasha turns to you and nods for you to order. You do, and as she hands the woman her card, you smile up at her.
"Thank you for getting this for me," you say gratefully, watching her melt under your gaze. The smile was back, and her eyes came to life again. It seemed she had a soft spot for you.
"Of course, it's my treat," she says and walks you to a small table in the corner.
From there, you spend the entire rest of the evening actually talking and getting to know Natasha. As you already knew, she works out religiously, and you told her how lucky you felt that she had skipped her workout today just to sit down with you. She got her first tattoo at 18 and loved it, so she just never stopped getting them. The first piercing she got was on her eyebrow, and the same there, she just kept going.
It felt as if you were sitting in front of a whole new person than the one you met just weeks ago. The one who pile drived you into the mattress at a party and left you weak in the legs and sore the next day. Natasha was kind and sweet, funny, and surprisingly shy. Any time you made an attempt to flirt or give an innuendo, she would chuckle shyly and blush the slightest.
There were a few times you even had to squeeze your thighs as you thought back to that night. Any time her tongue would wet her lower lip or her eyes would travel to your neck. She loved your neck, you noticed. Every time you had hooked up her lips would go straight for the skin there, nipping at the few small freckles that adorned the area.
"That's a long time to be friends with someone," Natasha states as you finish telling her about yours and Kates relationship. Best friends since the fourth grade, completely inseparable.
"It's nice to have someone so close, who knows me so well. Especially since I'm an only child," you reply and watch her brow lift.
"Oh really? I have a sister, Yelena. She bugs the hell out of me, but I love her to death. She goes to the college just a couple of hours from here. Actually," Natasha looks at her phone, checking the time. "I'm supposed to meet her soon... she came home for the weekend."
You nod slowly and look around, realizing everyone had left and the two baristas were cleaning up. As the two of you stand, Natasha suddenly towering over at you, you feel a little disappointment in your chest. You were having more fun with her than you thought, and you found yourself not wanting to part.
"Hey, Kate and I are going to this bar tomorrow night. A few of our friends are getting together. Joes?" You say to her, smiling to yourself as she once again holds the door open for you.
"Yeah, I've been there a few times before," Natasha says with a grin, standing outside the coffee shop with you.
"If you want, maybe you and Yelena can meet us? You don't have to, of course, but..." You trail off.
"I will definitely be there. Text me a time?" She asks, and you nod happily. Natasha leans down, and you think for a second she's going to kiss you, but her lips land on the soft skin of your cheek. You put your hand on her arm as she does, feeling the tattooed skin burn underneath your touch.
****
Joes Bar is crowded, but that's to be expected on a Saturday night near a college campus. A local alternative band plays loudly on the small stage on one side of the room, and you find yourself on the opposite side sitting at the bar. Kate is nearby talking to friends and a few strangers, but you only had one person in mind.
You glance at your phone again, seeing no notifications. With a sigh, you finish your second drink, ordering a third as you contemplated the possibility she wasn't going to show up. This is why you didn't do this type of thing. You don't hook up with hot strangers. You don't get coffee with gorgeous, sweet women. You stayed to yourself, guarded your heart, and let yourself be safe from any type of rejection or heartbreak.
But God Natasha was worth breaking your rules.
You found your way back to reality as the bartender handed you a drink and said thank you before grabbing it and removing yourself from the bar stool. As you turn, you bump into someone, almost spilling your drink on them.
"Oh shit I'm so sorry!" You apologize, shaking the liquor off your hand as you had spilled a little on yourself.
"It's okay, I was just trying to squeeze in next to you," the woman says, and in your tipsy state, you raise an eyebrow. She seemed about your age, dirty blonde hair, and a familiar grin on her lips. You definitely hadn't seen her in here before.
"I was just getting up, actually. You can have my seat. Is that an accent I hear?" You ask curiously, moving out of the way so she could take your place.
"Yeah, I still have a bit of an accent, I was born in Russia. Lived there for a while," she says and nods. She then orders two drinks before turning back to you.
"Wow, you're a long way from there. You go to school here?" You ask her and sip your drink, feeling Kate stand behind you.
"No, but my sister does, though," the blonde smiles and grabs the two bottles of beer from the bartender. She looks at you and extends her arm towards Kate to hand her a bottle. You give her a confused look.
It's only then you realize, as an inked hand reaches over you to take the beer, that it's not Kate standing there, but Natasha. You turn instantly and look up, a habit your neck was quickly getting used to doing.
"Well, well, look who showed up," you say and take your bottom lip between your teeth. Natasha smiles at your words, noticing the way you take in her appearance.
If it was possible, Natasha looked hotter than ever. She wore a black t shirt underneath a leather jacket. Her flaming hair was behind her in a braid with a few loose strands framing her face.
"I see you've met my sister, Yelena," Natasha chuckles and nods in the direction of the blonde woman.
"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Natty here hasn't been able to shut up abou-" Yelena is cut off by Natasha flicking the bottle cap at her face, a stern expression on the older woman's face.
You smile at the siblings' banter, watching Yelena laugh and shrug innocently. Whether it be the alcohol flowing in your bloodstream or the way Natasha looked at you, you slide your hand into hers. She tenses at first, not used to the public display of affection from you, but quickly relaxes as you intertwine your fingers with hers.
"Come on, come meet everyone," you say and tug on her hand in the direction of Kate.
You find them huddled around a pool table, watching as Kate lines up the pool tip to the cue ball with one eye closed. Carol stands leaning against her own stick, shaking her head and putting out the cigarette she smokes into the ashtray on the edge of the table.
"Anyday, Bishop..." Carol groans, earning a laugh from the group.
"Seriously, how long are you going to take?" Peter chimes in.
Kate ignores them and continues to stare intensely at the 8 ball. Her arm begins to pull back to take the shot, but as Yelena comes into focus on the opposite side of the table, Kate is finally distracted by the beautiful blonde. The cue ball misses her target completely, rolling across the table and sinking into the pocket.
"Scratch!" Carol cheers and high fives Monica. Kate looked up at Yelena, her lips parted as if she was going to speak, but no words came out. Carol then steps up to the table and sinks the 8 ball, ending the game with a dramatic bow.
You smile at the group, raising an eyebrow at the silent state of your best friend. "Guys, this is Natasha and her sister Yelena," you say, receiving waves and friendly greetings from everyone. You introduce them to the Romanoffs a little more before they rack up for another game.
"You any good?" Carol nods to Natasha, who gives a humble shrug.
"I'm decent," she replies with a smirk on her face as she brings the bottle to her lips. Carol hands the pool stick over before going to get drinks for the group.
"Hope you're good, Romanoff. We still haven't beat Y/N," Peter says begrudgingly. You only hum in response as Kate hands you her stick, positioning yourself across the table.
"Is that so?" Natasha watches with playful eyes as you skillfully break, the balls rolling in different directions along the table and a few of them sinking into the pockets.
When you lean up, you smile and reach your hand up to pat her cheek. "Good thing you didn't bet anything," you chuckle.
After a few back and forth turns, Carol returns with shots, to which you all cheer and take at the same time. The alcohol was definitely settling its way into your system now, and you were hot to the touch each time Natasha had to lean down to take her shot. Between the focused look on her face and the way the pool stick slid between her fingers, it was enough for you to want her right there.
You step forward next to her, looking at the direction of the shot she was trying to take. "That's a tough one, baby," you say to her, the term of endearment catching Natasha off guard.
Her body visibly tenses as she looks to you with a visceral reaction and swallows hard. You feign an innocent smile, taking a mental note to call her that again just to see her reaction. Natasha misses the shot and curses under her breath.
"That's not fair," she says and shakes her head as she stands tall. The red head removes her jacket, finding that the room was getting hotter.
You shrug and easily pocket two more balls on your turn. When you look to Kate to make a comment about the shot, you realize she's strayed from the group, chatting up Yelena. With your friends being in their own worlds at the moment, you decide to have a little fun with Natasha.
"You're not so bad, you know. The others have a hard time keeping up with me," you smile as she leans down, and your hand rests on her back, rubbing over her shirt.
"Y/n," Natasha mumbles, the blush on her cheeks evident she enjoyed your touch.
"Yes, Nat?" You pur, watching the muscles flex understand the fabric. Knowing you had this type of effect on her gave you a sense of power that only made you hungry for more. Your hand slithers underneath the bottom of her shirt, nails scratching at her back. She misses. You smile.
"You're a cheater, you know that?" Natasha says in a playful tone, her body naturally leaning towards you.
Your hands rest on her stomach, "I don't know what you're talking about." You lean up and plant a soft kiss on her lips, smirking as she leans down and melts against your mouth. "I'm just having fun," you whisper.
At that, you step away from her, crossing over to the opposite side of the table. You lean down more than you need to, and you don't miss the way Natashas eyes dart back and forth from your breasts to your neck. She finishes another bottle, and you can tell you've stressed her out by the way her hand grips the glass.
You continue to do the same thing for the remainder of the game, teasing her with every shot she took and making sure to bend in front of her any chance you could. It came down to the 8 ball, and you had to admit, you were dragging the game on longer than you needed to.
"Last one," you sigh and put your hand on the back of her neck as she leans down. Your fingers squeeze gently as she clears her throat, trying to ignore the shivers that run down her spine every time you touch her. You lean down with her, your lips brushing against her ear. "Good luck, baby," you whisper and kiss her cheek.
Her neck gets red at your words, and her grip on the stick only tightens. You think it'll snap in half with how hard she holds it. Natasha quickly shoots and misses, causing you to raise an eyebrow with just how quick she took the shot. Instead of stepping back, she continues to stand pressed against the table. "All yours," she mumbles and holds her hand out to the table, shifting uncomfortably as she stands.
You line up the shot and sink the black ball easily, looking up at her with a wide smile. She only gives you a small smile back with a nod. "Aren't you going to give me a victory kiss?" You ask as you step back to her.
Natasha hesitates for a moment but finally turns to face you. Your hands move up to wrap around her neck, your body pressing against her front as she leans in. Before your lips can touch your eyes, widen the slightest. You now realize the reason for the sudden uncomfortable physical shift she had taken when you felt her bulge pressing hard against you.
"Oh... was I teasing you too much?" You ask with a smirk on your lips. She rolls her eyes and moves to pull away, but you don't let her. "What was it?" You ask her.
"What was what?" She replies, her hands moving to your waist. You press your body further into her and relish the hiss that leaves her mouth.
You search her eyes, thinking to the moment her demeanor had changed. Suddenly, there was that power-hungry feeling again when you realized the reasoning. The fact that you could get her hot and bothered by a simple word leaving your lips, by your voice alone, and the thought of you driving someone like her mad. Natasha was weak in the knees for you, and she struggled internally with the way you made her feel. She wasn't used to it.
"Why don't you let me help you take care of your little problem... baby, " you whisper to her, feeling her shoulders tense above you. "Come on." You slide back and take her hand in yours, leading her away from the pool table and towards the bathroom.
As soon as both of you are inside and you lock the door, the two of you are on top of each other just like the first night you met her. Natasha kisses you feverishly, like she'd never been kissed before, with your back hard against the door. You welcomed her tongue into your mouth, moaning as the two halves wrap around your own.
With one hand, you hold onto the front of her shirt, gripping tightly, with the other you slide it in between your bodies, letting yourself grope the hard bulge in her jeans. Natasha lets a hint of a whimper leave her lips, one you hadn't heard since the first time with her, and you smirk into the kiss.
"What's the matter, baby? Do you need some help?" You ask innocently, lips ghosting hers. She breathes heavily and nods as your hands move to undo her belt.
"Sweetheart... please," she says, and you decide in that moment that you need her to say that again. Just the idea that this strong, formidable woman could so easily melt in your presence made you thrilled.
Her hands rest on either side above your head, pressed flat against the door as you slide her pants down. You can see the precum dampening a spot on her underwear, and you feel yourself get wet at the sight of it. She needed you, bad.
"Please, what?" You ask, your hand moves to grab her through her boxers, and you stroke her length through the thin fabric.
"Fu-fuck," she barely breathes out, eyes searching yours. Natasha hadn't begged a day in her life, but she would happily beg for you. She was at the point right now that she was willing to get down on her knees and beg for you. You made her desperate.
"Please touch me, please. You feel how hard I am for you? Just -" You squeezing a little harder makes her gasp before continuing. "I need you to touch me. Please, sweetheart... please, " she begs. You smile at her words, enjoying the way her body melts at your touch and the way she begs for you.
At her words you slide down her boxers, and her cock twitches at the feeling of finally being released. She lets out a sigh of relief as your delicate fingers wrap around her. "Is this what you wanted?" You hum, beginning to move your hand up and down. Natasha nods, chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly at your movements.
When you stop, she looks at you with a disoriented look, eyebrows lifting as she watches you drop to your knees. You take her cock in your hand, letting your other rest on her thick, toned thigh. From here you can see her happy trail peaking from underneath her shirt, making your panties wetter. The way she looks down at you with a breathless expression and parted lips makes you want to live your life on your knees for her. Your lips kiss along the side of her length, teasing slowly with your tongue licking up it. Natasha groans with pleasure at the feeling and her hips instinctively buck towards you.
You give in, not wanting to tease her anymore tonight, and take her cock into your mouth. The moan that leaves her mouth is outright sinful, and her fist hits the door with a thud as you begin to bob your head. Your cheeks hollow out when you begin moving faster, taking as much of her as you could. When the tip hits the back of your throat your eyes sting, tears threatening to leave your ducts. Natasha pants heavily above you, savoring the moment of you on your knees for her, sucking her off.
"Look at you, such a pretty girl with my cock in your mouth- fuck," Natasha speaks low to you, her eyes dark as she watches her cock disappear against your lips. Your fingers on her thigh dig in, your nails digging into her skin to leave crescent shaped marks, at her words. "All night you've been teasing me... this is the only way to shut you up, isn't it?" She says and you moan against her, the vibrations sending her close to the edge.
Her breathing gets heavier and you can tell she's about to cum, but before she can you quickly remove your mouth, your saliva coating her as you release with a pop. You stand, not ignoring the frustrated look on her face.
"Baby, I think you're confused," you say, your hands moving to the top of your dress. "You're not in charge right now," You let out a small laugh and pull down on the fabric, letting your breasts spill out. Natashas face reddens in response, and she immediately moves to kiss your chest. You can feel the marks she leaves as her lips trail across your breasts, her skillful tongue pleasuring your sensitive nipples.
Natashas' large hands move to the bottom of your dress as her kisses begin to litter up your neck. You let her move the material above and over your hips, but stop her as she reaches your panties. "I wanna hear you," you mumble out. She lets out a huff and pulls away from your neck.
"Y/n... please." Natasha says. You only continue to look at her with innocent eyes. The fact that she would beg for you - is begging for you, made you feel instant gratification.
"Please, pretty girl? Please let me make you feel good. I want to fuck you, want to make you feel good so bad..." She begs, and you let her slide your panties down your legs. Natasha slides her tip between your closed thighs, her cock now being coated from the wetness that spread between your legs.
She slips in between your folds, waiting for your words. Her fingers dig into your hips. "You drive me so fucking insane," Natasha whispers as her head ducks to your neck again. "I could cum from just looking at you. Just hearing you say my name. You know how much control you have over me?" Her hips continue rocking against you, your thighs squeezing her hard cock. She begins to pant again, her neck red and hot to the touch as you wrap your arms around it, interlocking your fingers behind her head.
"Please," Natasha whimpers, and the sound is enough to make you moan. You needed to feel her inside you immediately, hear more of those moans leave her lips.
"Show me how bad you want me, how insane I make you feel," you finally say and lean forward to bite her lower lip. She wastes no time lifting you up, helping you wrap your legs around her hips. Your back presses against the door again and with one hand she guides her cock inside of your warm velvet walls, easily ,with how wet you were for her.
Natasha begins to thrust up into you, a feeling you had become accustomed to these past few weeks, although you weren't sure you'd ever get used to her size. She groans against your chest, nipping at the skin. The small bathroom fills with the sounds of her pounding into you, both of you moaning practically in sync with every thrust.
"So good, pretty girl, feel so good wrapped around my cock. I love fucking this pretty pussy," she breathes heavy against your skin as she speaks. You hold on tightly to her, only breathless moans escape your lips in response.
Suddenly, from the outside, someone bangs on the door, Natasha doesn't halt her descent on you. "Can you hurry the fuck up in there?" A stranger yells from the other side. Your eyes widen, a little bit of adrenaline rushing into your chest as she continues fucking into you.
Natasha smiles, now at your flustered state. "Occupied," is all she replies before her thrust picks up the pace. "You better keep quiet, sweetheart. You don't want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me, letting me fuck you in the bathroom."
You squeeze your eyes closed as she fucks herself into you, trying your best to keep quiet. Each thrust was now hitting that special spot inside of you and drawing you closer to an orgasm. The feeling of her muscles flexing around you only intensified that feeling.
"Fuck I-I can't I'm-" Natasha stutters out as she groans into your neck, feeling your hot cunt tighten around her cock.
"Me too, Nat," you moan along with her, and your legs squeeze around her waist. "Let go, baby... wanna feel you fill me up." You watch her face twist in pleasure at your words, and the fact that it was enough to make her cum only added to your ego in the moment. Natasha grunts against your skin as she does just what you say, filling you up completely.
The sensation alone is enough to make you follow right behind her, the burn in your lower stomach blazing as you scream out her name.
"That's it, sweetheart, that's it... such a good girl for me," she coos as you fall apart in her arms, kissing your face as you breathe heavily. Your head falls against her shoulder, face panting in the crook of her neck as she holds you tightly, letting you come down off your high.
After a few moments she pulls out slowly, and you can feel the mixture of both your arousal dripping down your thighs. Natasha carries you to the sink, letting you rest on the hard surface while she pulls her pants back up and you fix the top of your dress.
"Hi," she says with a smile. You giggle, remembering she said the same thing afterward on the first night at her party.
"Hi," is all you reply, grabbing her shirt in your hand and pulling her closer to kiss you again.
****
"They have eight legs and eight eyes. How are they not scary?" Peter drunkenly speaks to Monica, who sits next to him with an amused look.
After your time in the bathroom with Natasha, the two of you had rejoined the group, and over the course of two hours, you had become increasingly wasted with the rest of your friends. As Yelena joined in on the topic of spiders, you feel Natasha rest her head back against your front.
She sat slouched back in one of the chairs that scattered near the table while you stood behind her, hands stroking her neck and massaging her shoulders. You can't help but smile down at her.
"You're so cute," you giggle and watch her brow raise. Your finger traces the dark lines on her neck.
"Anything but cute," Natasha groans, with a playful smirk on her face. "Why do you say that?"
"You're different than you look, you know? Why are you so nervous around me?" Your words slur, and she chuckles at your drunken state with a shrug, looking at the beer bottle she held in her hand.
"Must be the alcohol?" She says. You shake your head and poke her nose.
"You were drinking when I first met you, and you weren't like this," you point out and watch her swallow. You decide to move in front of her, settling yourself between her muscled thighs. As you stand in front of her, she sits up straighter, the two of you now practically the same height.
You take her hand in yours, playing with her fingers. She smiles a little as she looks at your intertwined hands.
"Maybe I was drinking that night to get enough courage to talk to you... and maybe I- maybe I'm drinking tonight to get enough courage to say I want more with you. More than... the hookups," she says and finally looks back up at you. Your heart races in your chest at her words, panic written on your face as you freeze in front of her.
That was exactly what you wanted. More of her, more of this beautiful person who was even more beautiful inside. To get to know what makes her really tick, what makes her happy, how her day was, how she likes her coffee. She wanted more, too, so why were you not speaking out loud?
"What?" Is all that comes out of your mouth.
Natashas face falls completely, misinterpreting your flustered state for a sign of rejection. She had hoped this wouldn't happen. Part of her wondered if this had just been a hook up, but the other part of her desperately hoped it wasn't.
Before the words could leave your parted lips, Kate calls over to you, taking the attention of both you and Natasha.
"Y/N, you ready to go? You can stay if you want, I'm gonna take Pete home, though," she nods to the direction of where he sat drunk rambling to Yelena.
"No, not -"
"Actually, Yelena and I have a lot to do tomorrow. We should head out too," Natasha interrupts you and stands, her hand moving to your lower back as you stare up at her with a pout.
"Are you sure?" You ask her, your hand reaching out to her side. She tenses under your grasp.
"Yeah, I'll text you later," She smiles at you, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes this time.
You nod anyways and smile back, leaning up to kiss her lips softly. "Thank you for tonight.. Hopefully, we can do it again soon?"
And while you were talking about hanging out with her, Natasha assumes you were talking about her fucking you.
"Yeah, soon," she lets out a breath and grabs her jacket, not taking a second look back at you as her and Yelena exit the bar.
***
A smile fills your face as your head hits the pillow, the soft comforter pulled over you as you lie on your warm bed and mull over tonights events. You wondered why Natasha had left in such a hurry before you could say anything, but you decided not to think too hard on it. She probably did have to go. It was early in the morning by the time you left, and besides, you would hear from her later.
Every morning, she texted you a quick and sweet text, telling you to have a good day.
Your chest swelled at the thought of it, how sweet it was that such a small, simple thing could brighten your entire day. What you assumed would happen tomorrow is that the two of you would talk about wanting more and how desperately you agreed with her about it.
But when the late morning came and the sunshine streamed through the windows, no text came with it.
#natasha romanoff#natasha x fem!reader#natasha x reader#natasha x you#natasha romanoff x reader#gp!Natasha x reader#marvel#marvel one shot#part 2
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Just thinking about newlyprohero!Bakugo and cheeky!reader
He never liked parties that much. All those gatherings of people he sometimes barely knew. Most of them drunk by the end of the night. And his friends were these kind of people.
He hated to receive a drunk call from Kaminari to pick them up at one am. So one when he and Kirishima proposed for him to go yet again, he just agreed.
So there he was in a corner of the club, sitting at a table with the bakusquad. His arms were crossed while he sipped his drink and eyed up all his gatherings. People shouting, swerving through the crowd, downing drinks, swaying to the rythme. He rolled his eyes and watched carefully as Denki tried to whoo two swedish girls. Key word : tried. he could smell his alcohol level from here and it made his eyes twitch slightly.
"Hey bakubro, you ok ?" kirishima shouted from over the sound of the deafening mudic. "We shouldn't be here. The media is already all over our asses ever since we announced the launching of our agency. I don't want to ruin my reputation as a hero." Katsuki grumbled. Kiri sighed, he had Mina on his lap who was smirking at Katsuki's annoyed posture. "Oh come on you big dummy. Live a little. We're graduates, building our agency and you're being over there sulking like an idiot."
"Who are you calling an idiot ?!" His hands popped little explosions. Kiri placed a calming hand on his best friend shoulder, slighlty pushing him back in his seat. "Hey, stop you two. But you know she's right dude. I know our starting carriers are being watched a lot. But maybe it's time for you to let go... like, find a girlfriend ? You used to tell us you were too busy with hero studies. Now's the occasion."
"Right now isn't the right time, Ei." he glared at his friend who just raised his hands in defense. "I'm just saying ! it might make you lose up a little. Look at Denki, he seems fine." Katsuki rolled his eyes at the sight of the other blond, slouched in front of them as he had both girls on his side.
"Is Kacchan afraid he'll never have his first kiss ?" Kaminari boastly mocked while his little guests seemed more and more interested in Katsuki. One of them even slipped away and sat next to Katsuki. A little two close to his taste. He huffed in annoyance and got up, leaving her dejected.
"Hey ! We're you going ?" Kirishima called as he watched his friend walk away. "Away from here, and getting dunce face some water." was the last thing he grumbled. They all looked accusingly towards Denki. "What ? Not my fault he can't live a little." Sero slapped the back of his head. "You're really an idiot sometimes."
Katsuki reached the bar and ask for something who will sober up his friend quickly. While he waited for the bartender to be over with some other costumer, he leaned against the bar, thinking about what they said. It's true he never dated anyone during UA, or in middle school for that matter. He thought it was a waste of time. But what they said troubled him. And even if Denki meant it as a joke, he was right. Katsuki never kissed anyone. Even now that he was 20.
And that made him feel uneasy. He was late compared to young adults of his age. After all he saw half of his friends kiss someone like it was a routine while it was a step he had yet to take. Even Deku with his undying shyness managed to start to date Uraraka the following year after graduation. So what was missing ?
Was he truly scared ? Yes, he was because it didn't go with his character. Dynamight, never felt the touch of a woman ? What a pity. To him it sounded so lame.
Then the anger came. Who were they to think he couldn't kiss a girl. He was going to prove them wrong and kiss one. Tonight. He scanned the dancefloor and was met with disappointement. Not because the girls weren't pretty. But because of the gut feeling that told him he shouldn't spend his first kiss away with someone he barely knew. He wanted it to be as special as he was told and read about. Though he’ll never say it out loud.
His train of thoughts got interrupted as the bartender was heading his way. But before he could even speak, a hand grabbed his arm. He tried to protest, thinking it was one of his friends but he was met with you. You seemed breathless and your cheeks were red. You were flush against him, your chest slightly moving out of your top as your half lided eyes met his. “Hey, care to be my man for five seconds ?” You don’t wait for his answer before crashing your lips against his.
The kiss was good, almost too good. It was messy but seemed perfect. That kind of perfect you only find in Christmas movies when the girl realizes she loved the hometown farm guy more than her business man boyfriend. It was electrifying. And for a second Katsuki wondered why he had never done that in his entire 20 years of existence.
All his hesitation vanished and his lips started to move against yours. He can feel you smile a little, after all he was still tense and inexperienced. But he was kissing you back. Like a shy and awkward 16 year old but still. You bit his lips and he just groaned in response, accidentally leaving entrance for your tongue to slip in his mouth. He was completely under your spell. And he wasn’t going to do anything about it.
He could feel the slight liquor off of your tongue grazing his tenderly, as if careful not to scare him off. He didn’t like alcohol that much but right now it was addictive. He couldn’t get enough. He groaned against your mouth, completely surrendering to you. After what felt an eternity too short, you pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.
You eyed up where the creep that had been harassing you half the night was supposed to be. You didn’t see him anywhere. You sighed in relief but remembered you just kissed a poor random guy you had grabbed as a dissuasion. Which of who seemed so sweetly flustered at the moment.
“Your lips aren’t too bad, firecracker.” You said as you turned back to him and sent him a wink. He was left stunned. You were one cheeky little minx. “Firecracker-what?” He babbled through confusion, his lips still tingly from the kiss. You chuckled and you put a hand on his chest. You could feel how his heart was racing. How cute. “I have to go, but thanks for the kiss firecracker.” You trailed off as you walked past him, your hand making a suggestive lingering trail in his chest.
He was left stunned. And a few seconds later, realization came back. He just had his first kiss. With a stranger. One hell of a kiss at that. But he didn’t even know your name. He turned around and tried calling out to you but you had already disappeared through the crowd.
He stumbled back, the scene going through his head like a broken record. What just happened… Without noticing he strode his way back to where his friends still were.
"Hey, where's my drink?" Denki teased and he had to wait for a few seconds before Katsuki go tout of his daze. "Huh ? Oh they didn't make any drinks for idiots." usually his tone would be snarkier, which made his friend confused. "Hey, you okay man ?" Kirishima asked as his friend let himself fall in the seat beside him with a sigh. "Yeah yeah..."
"Oh my- is that...lipgloss ?” Mina interjected, grabbing the attention of everyone. They eyed up their friend who had a reddish trail all over his lips. He tried to wipe the evidence, to no avail, his cheeks speeding in a light reddish hue. Suddenly he was assaulted by questions. Did you make out ? You know her ? Is that why you disappeared? How did that happen ? Was she hot ? How ? When ? What ??? He was about to blast them in annoyance when he caught a glimpse of you. He couldn’t let you slip away this time. He hurriedly got back up and tried to follow you, under the confused protests of his friends.
He tried pushing through the crowd, barely excusing himself as he tried to grab you attention. He was about to reach you when a movement of crowd brought him away from your oblivious face. He tried to make them move, being blocked as most of them here danced. It wasn’t easy to be big Dynamight. He tried swerving through the people but couldn’t see you anymore. He scanned the room lighten with lights of every vibrant colors and caught a glimpse of the emergency exit closing. With difficulty he reached it and was met with the cold air of the midnight streets. He looked around and saw you. You were about to enter your taxi.
He strode in your direction. “Hey !” He shouted, grabbing your attention as you looked up in surprise. You smirked when you noticed who was heading your way. You just winked at him and got in your taxi, it leaving seconds after.
“Damnit!” He watched as the taxi disappeared around the corner. How did he manage to loose for the third time in one night…
He just wanted a name. A name on the girl who stole his first true act of love. The one who is feared, waited, fantasied, depicted in all languages and every timelines. That bond who now was tied to you and for some unknown reason made him drawn to you like a magnet.
He licks his lips, the strawberry taste of your lipgloss giving him one reminder of the kiss you shared. The sole proof that it was not a fantasy his brain had built.
But one thing he knows, he must absolutely find out who you are. One way or another…
#mha bakugou#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#bnha#katsuki bakugo x reader#mha#bnha bakugou#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#bakugo x reader#bakugo x you#pro hero#dynamight#bakugo katsuki
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"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+
Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.
Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie
Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3
Word Count: 9k
The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.
Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.
“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.
“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.
You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”
Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.
True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.
You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.
Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.
As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.
Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.
Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.
“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.
“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”
You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”
“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.
You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”
She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"
“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.
“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”
It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.
Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.
Him.
“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.
Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”
Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”
Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”
“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.
Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.
“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.
“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”
“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.
Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.
She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.
When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.
New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.
Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?
Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.
“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.
“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.
She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”
Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.
After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.
You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”
You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.
Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.
He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”
He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.
The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.
He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”
Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.
“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.
Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.
His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”
You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.
“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”
You shrug. “Not exactly.”
His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”
You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”
The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.
He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”
You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”
“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”
You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.
He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”
The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.
“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”
Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”
Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”
So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”
His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”
He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"
“Nancy Wheeler.”
His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”
You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.
Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”
“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”
You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.
For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.
His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.
“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.
You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”
Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”
“I-I said 7:30!”
“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.
The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.
You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”
“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.
When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”
You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”
“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.
You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”
Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”
To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”
You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”
“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.
“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.
“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”
You promise to make it up to her.
When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.
As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.
From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”
“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”
You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”
“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.
“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”
“Oh, she needs a ride.”
Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.
You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”
“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”
“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.
You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”
Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”
“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.
“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”
Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”
“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.
Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”
You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”
“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”
“Um, probably.”
“We know him.” Robin states.
“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.
When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.
Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)
You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.
Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.
You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.
“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”
You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.
You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.
When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.
It was borderline hilarious.
You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.
Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.
When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.
The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.
When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”
She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.
You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.
“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.
You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.
“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.
The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.
Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”
Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.
By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.
This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.
The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.
Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.
As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”
Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.
Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.
Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.
The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”
Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”
Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”
The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.
“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.
Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”
His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.
God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.
His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.
“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.
“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”
He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.
You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.
His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”
He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.
Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.
All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.
That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.
He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.
“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.
He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”
His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.
He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”
You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.
“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.
“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.
Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”
You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.
“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”
Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”
“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?
Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.
He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.
How are you doing this to him so easily?
Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it. His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.
Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.
Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.
Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.
Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.
Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”
He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.
“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.
When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.
He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”
He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.
Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.
The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.
Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?
Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)
Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.
Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.
“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”
Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.
In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.
His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”
His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”
Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him. Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.
Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.
Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”
“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”
Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.
As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.
Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.
Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.
A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.
His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”
Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.
Whatever. He wants.
“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.
“Desperately.”
Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”
Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.
He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”
You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.
He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”
“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.
Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”
You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”
His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”
“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”
You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”
“Think you can take it?”
You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”
He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”
You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”
He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.
You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.
The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…
“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”
He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.
“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”
Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.
Him? Perfect.
“Fill me up, please.”
“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.
Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.
It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.
To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.
To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.
You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.
He’s just getting started.
-
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Fear
Pairing: Pennywise/Bill Skarsgard x Black oc (dark smut) Summary: Going after his next victim: a little boy named Booker Jones, Pennywise the clown becomes intrigued by his older sister instead, and no... what he is hungry for is not her fear. Warnings: Horror, violence, entity, monster, monster s3x, rough s3x, dub!con, cnc, age gap, dark romance, smut, tummy bulge k!nk, dom&femsub cr3am pie, etc. 7130 words Wattpad link:
Enjoy my babies <3 ----------------------------------
Rumors have begun to spread that Pennywise the clown has returned back to Derry.
But who would believe the rumors being that they were coming from kids? Being gossiped around Elementary and Middle schools.
As children started to disappear again, the adults of Derry have also picked up on believing in this rumor, but luckily most of them have common sense.
Although this myth of a supernatural clown has been told in Derry for hundreds of years, the adults have been in contact with the police thinking that instead of something as crazy as a fictitious clown, some insane Pennywise fanatic has entered the town and is preying on children to keep the fable alive.
"He lives in the sewers."
"He can reach you through the drains of your house."
"He can make you hallucinate and you will see awful things to frighten you."
"He survives off of fear."
Sadly, the children are more than right.
Worst of all, they are going unheard. Parents are ignoring them as they search for what makes the most sense to them, a psychotic murderous pedophile on the loose.
And as the adults of Derry waste their time not believing in the supernatural, Pennywise is preparing to strike again.
Booker Jones, an eight year old boy is Pennywise's next victim.
Pennywise has been stalking his dreams, showing up each day at the boy's school, and whispering through the drains of his home.
Pennywise is infatuated with Booker's fear. Each time he plays with the young child's mind, his mouth waters with excitement to devour the boy and absorb his fear to keep him alive.
It's almost time now.
Booker has told his friends and family... But no one believes him. His parents tell him to stop listening to the gossip of the town because of how bad he's getting nightmares now. Little do they know, Pennywise is sizing him and getting his levels of fear exactly where he wants them to be.
Sunday nights are usually Booker's bath nights. Finally ready for Pennywise's taking, the clown plans on slithering inhumanely through the drain and drag Booker to his death into the sewers where Pennywise will consume his fear and let his decaying body be found in the streams that lead out of the tunnels of Derry.
As Pennywise listens into the pipes of the Jones' house, at eight-pm he finally hears the bath running... he knows that his time to feast, is now.
Pennywise slithers quietly through the pipes, opening his eyes in the sudsy lukewarm water as he expects to see the tiny feet and draggable legs of an eight year old boy...
The clown nearly gasps, almost choking on water as the gaze of his eyes latch onto the spread legs of a young woman...
Confusion takes over his mind, never once has he ever had to take a pause during one of his killings.
Still watching from the impossibly deep pits of the filled tub, Pennywise watches long brown legs soak in the sweetly fragrant bath. The girl's toes are painted a light pink and she taps her feet lightly to what seems to be music coming from her headphones.
What disgruntles Pennywise the most is the powers coming from between her thighs... he even momentarily begins to think that maybe, just maybe, she could be a supernatural herself.
Pennywise is hungry... Usually for fear, but this time, for a taste of the soft flesh between her legs.
Peaking out of the water for just a moment, he craves to see the face of the enchanting creature.
The girl nods her head to the rhythm of the music, luckily eyes closed as she relaxes... Because if they opened, they'd view upon the gray crumbling skin, patchy red hair, and demonic yellow eyes of Pennywise, and surely would die of a heart attack on the spot.
Pennywise is puzzled by her beauty...
Full dark brown curls drenching at the ends as she soaks in the water, face red and blushing due to the humidity of the bathroom, full lips, long eyelashes, and breasts large... nipples upturned and beaming with water droplets...
Fucking hell...
She isn't a child... no, she isn't a child at all.
What Pennywise didn't realize about Booker Jones, is that he has a sister. Quinn Jones, an older sister, age twenty, and home from college for Summer Break.
Tonight won't be the night for feeding after all... However, Pennywise can't leave without a taste, of something.
Seeping back into the drain, the clown's unbelievably long snake-like tongue slithers between Quinn's legs, swiping a powerful lick that goes from the crack of her bottom, through her folds, and to the delicious flesh of her clit.
She immediately gasps. Breath hitched in her throat as her eyes dart open. She flips her headphones from off of the top of her head and frantically kicks her legs, searching for what violated her in such way... however, the bath is empty.
As Pennywise ventures back into the sewers, the taste of Quinn stays on his tongue... a taste that he will forever crave until his dying day.
—•—
Pennywise paces the sewers, mind full of thoughts about the girl.
He isn't used to this feeling... and being an evil entity born Before Christ, he doesn't understand why after all these years, obstacles are now getting into his way?
He hears the snickering of preteens walking through the sewers with flashlights, probably dared by each other to see who is the bravest to meet the myth of Pennywise...
Sadly for the youngins, there is fear that Pennywise needs to feast upon, and once they lay eyes upon his stature of eight-feet tall, his dingy and torn clown costume, and his shards of glass like teeth, fear is exactly what they will have plenty of.
Pennywise tears them to shreds, consuming each drop of their fear. Finally becoming full and energized, he can prepare to tackle the obstacle known as Quinn Jones.
For the first time ever, Pennywise doesn't want to cause fright. He is so curious about the beauty that he just wants to be around her, to know her... However, if push comes to shove, killing her works just as well.
But to get close to the girl without her fleeing from him, he can not appear to her as a clown...
He once would appear human at times around the town of Derry, in his opinion his human form is a handsome man...
But being that the last time he tried this appearance was nearly sixty years ago, it's probably best to appear as something the girl could be attracted to nowadays.
He will have to appear as young as she is. In his twenties, charming, handsome, less forehead, less evil grin, and just more modern all together.
Contorting his appearance into what he needs to be, he finally becomes satisfied with his look as he stares at his reflection in the shard of a broken mirror, dumped in the sewers like the rest of the trash around him.
"This'll do." He finally agrees with what he sees. "This'll do just fine."
—•—
Before being able to show himself, Pennywise wants to be familiar with the girl he plans on meeting.
What does a clown who only knows of murder know about charming a girl?
For weeks of the summer, Pennywise quietly stalks Quinn until he knows her every detail.
Quinn even begins to think that her little brother's irrational fear of Pennywise the clown is rubbing off on her, ever since she's been home she sees the clown in her dreams...
He fills her every thought and at night as she sleeps, Quinn even feels him in the corner of her room.
She thinks that she's just going crazy, but she is far from crazy. Pennywise is using his abilities to infiltrate Quinn's mind, as he does his victims. But instead of frightening her, he just wants her to know of his existence.
Finally mustering up the courage to meet Quinn, things go surprisingly smoother than Pennywise could ever have expected.
In his new appearance, Pennywise purposely runs into her as she grocery shops dinner for her family. He compliments her, asks about the music she is listening to in her headphones, and lies that they are too his favorite band.
He enjoys speaking with her for the very first time... It is like a breath of fresh air.
Pennywise introduces himself to the girl as "Bill", a twenty-seven year old accountant who is interested in taking her out on a date.
Impressed by the man's charm and their almost impossible similarities, Quinn quickly accepts.
Over weeks of hanging out with each other daily, a bond has began to grow. They trust each other and Pennywise enjoys hearing her talk for as long as she wants to.
Each day that he picks her up from the Jones' residence, Quinn's blushing cheeks proves each time that his plan is working, it proves that the girl is crushing on him as much as Pennywise is crushing on her.
A month of knowing each other passes quickly being that the two have become immediately infatuated with each other.
Today, to celebrate a month together, Pennywise has planned a night at a drive in movie theater... a perfect place for romance, and to also scope out the scenery for potential children he can feasts upon when he's ready to.
Wearing a brown mesh dress that fits her body to perfection and compliments her mahogany skin beautifully, Quinn answers Pennywise's knock to her front door.
Pennywise can barely speak... Awed by her beauty, he can barely breathe.
She smiles. "Do I look okay?"
Voice sweet as candy, his heart begins to melt.
"Yes Quinn." He gulps. "More than okay, absolutely perfect."
She blushes. Quinn reaches up on the tips of her heels to place a kiss on the cheek of his handsome face.
She accepts his flowers. "Happy one month, Bill."
—•—
As Pennywise discretely digs through the wallets of his previous victims, he also drives a stolen car.
He impresses the girl with his willingness to care for her, to pay for all of their dates... although nothing that he has belongs to him, not even his own appearance.
Parked in front of the large movie screen, the two share a bucket of popcorn.
Pennywise listens to Quinn as she talks about her last year of college coming up in August. She'll then graduate and become a local Elementary School Teacher here in Derry.
As if she were made just for him. Pennywise's lips nearly begin to drool. Oh what perfect career for her... this way they'll never be apart, she can bring him the kids, and he absorbs their fear.
Curious with her thoughts on the rumored clown of Derry, Pennywise brings it up in conversation, wondering will he forever have to keep up with this appearance around her, or if one day she can accept him as he is.
"Like most adults, I don't believe in entities and things that just don't make practical sense." She shrugs. "But ever since I've been home in Derry, I too have had many thoughts of this clown... it started with my little brother's nightmares, he was sure this evil clown was out to get him... So as a big sister would, I comforted him, calmed his nerves, and reminded him that everything would be okay. But recently, something tells me that the myth of the clown may be true. It's like I can feel him, like he's always near to me... Like I know him personally."
Quinn smiles, shrugging off the goosebumps caused by just the thought of Pennywise the clown. "But honestly there is something else I'd rather talk to you about..."
Chomping on a hand full of popcorn, Pennywise agrees. "Sure, go ahead."
"Bill..." She gulps. "We've been seeing each other for a month now, and I'm a bit confused on where we stand... I go back to school in a month, I'd just like to know if I'm going back single, or is this something... more?"
Pennywise frowns.
Has he not been clear?
"You're mine." The only words he can conjure up at the thought of Quinn seeing anyone else.
Blush heating her cheeks, she accepts his answer with the prettiest smile. "I can be yours."
He nods. "Good."
Taking the popcorn to the floor of the car, Quinn reaches over to kiss Pennywise. Their lips meet, and their affection and adoration for each other melts into each of their breaths.
Although they have taken things very slow over summer, they still have had a few gentle kisses every now and then. But Pennywise realizes that this kiss is a bit different...
Quinn moans into his full lips, body closing in on him in the driver seat of the car as she clearly hungers for more.
His heart begins to beat out of his chest and his human form suffers with keeping up with the seducing kiss.
Pulling away from her, Pennywise watches her almost startled, confused by the bite she has to her full bottom lip yet his pants grow as she squirms in needy arousal.
He gulps. "Quinn, the movie?"
"I'd rather watch you." Her voice drips with seduction as her hand unzips the front of his pants.
Quinn calms his worry as her other hand caresses the back of his neck gently. "If I'm yours, let me take care of you Bill."
He watches puzzled, with a racing heartbeat, however he allows Quinn to do whatever she wants with him.
Quinn gracefully tucks her full mane of curls onto the other side of her shoulder as she bows into his lap.
Her lips line with his up-turned erection as she sweetly kisses the tip of his cock, staining it with her pink strawberry flavored lipgloss.
Staring down at his handsomely perfect member, thoughts of having him inside her chokes her mind. The best looking cock she's ever seen in her life, for now she'll satisfy her hunger with just his taste.
Hallowing out her cheeks, Quinn takes him fully into her mouth. Slowly wetting his cock with her spit as she gently tugs his shaft lubed with her drool.
Breaths caught in Pennywise's throat as he watches his sweetheart take him completely in her throat. Her delicious moans and sweetly scented perfume plagues his mind, he can't control the groans coming from the depths of his stomach.
She feels fucking perfect to him. Willing to choke herself to tears for his pleasure, he knows that he absolutely loves the girl.
As Quinn continues to slurp, stroke, and suck, Pennywise can't control the bucking of his hips. Gently fucking into her throat at the rhythm that he needs.
Quinn opens her eyes, peering up at him with her innocent doll like eyes as she slaps his cock on her drooling wet tongue.
His eyes roll back into his skull.. "Quinn.." He gulps. "Honey I—"
Forcing him deeper into her throat, Quinn inhales his balls along with the entirety of his cock.
Coughing and dripping mascara as her only care is to bring him to a pleasured finish
Fucking hell... he can't take it. Never having this sense of pleasure in his impossibly long lifetime, he feels the need to explode.
Noticing her deep arch in the passenger seat of the car, Pennywise can't help but to run his hand onto her firm backside, slapping her ass as she sucks his cock with absolute perfection.
His mouth hangs ajar as the pressure to cum continues to build. Stomach tightened as he listens to her intoxicating chokes and moans, he can't hold out any longer.
Quinn takes him into her throat once more as he blows his load.
He shouts a pleasured groan as the cum bursts streams into her mouth and down her pretty chin.
The pleasure is too much for him to handle, Pennywise loses focus on his appearance... and absolutely drops it.
He watches Quinn's satisfied smile turn into eyes of fear as he begins to reveal his truest form.
"P-Pennywise.." The shock causes her face to whiten into a pale fright.
He smiles, the jingle of his bells chiming out of thin air. "Pennywise, The Dancing Clown!"
—•—
Thrashing around in the arms of the clown, Pennywise leaves the car for the nearest city drain.
Crying and shouting to be let go, he doesn't listen to her once.
"Close your eyes." He calmly demands. "It'll hurt a lot less."
Fearing for her life. Quinn tightens her eyes closed as she notices them slipping into the sewer drain.
She knows it's impossible for them to fit and expects to be squashed to death... But underestimating the powers of Pennywise, gets her nowhere. As she opens her eyes, she's surprisingly unharmed and in the sewer tunnels of Derry.
As she's being carried, she notices her dangling legs nowhere near the ground being that her date has grown into a whopping eight feet tall.
As she cries and continues to lash out, Pennywise isn't phased or harmed by her gentle fists. However, he doesn't know how to calm her...
When he's killing for the absorption of fear, he would have snapped his victim's neck by now, but not wanting to hurt Quinn... he's at a loss for a next step.
Taking her to the driest and deepest part of the sewers, he leaves Quinn by herself beside a pile of his victim's belongings.
She becomes a mess of frightened tears as she looks up at the massive pile, noticing the floating children in Pennywise's possession, decaying and have been hanging there for many, many years.
As hours pass, and night darkens.
Pennywise decides to revisit Quinn. He finds her exhausted from tears and asleep in a dirty corner, however he's glad that she is calm.
He never wanted this to happen, but now that he's infatuated with her he can't let her go.
Waking up from her stressful nap, Quinn is startled by his quiet watching in the pipes of the sewer.
Balling herself up into bended knees, she refuses to even look at him.
He jumps down, creating a cloud of dust around him as he lands right in front of her.
"Open your eyes." He demands. "See me as I am."
"As what?" She argues. "Accept that you're Pennywise the clown? Or accept that you're a liar?"
Her smart tongue aggravates him as he forces her into his strict yellow gaze. "Everything I've said, I've meant."
"You're a murderer." Tears of sadness wet her cheeks.
"Don't bring up what you don't understand." He denies being called such things.
"You were after my brother weren't you?" She continues. "You wanted to kill him! Turn him into the children above-"
"But I didn't." He interrupts. "And I won't."
She scoffs. "You have been an entirely different man since I've known you, how am I ever to believe a word that you say!"
"Because you'll just have to trust me." His voice although sensitive to her fear, he is clearly demanding and intimidating. "Do it, because you don't have any other choice to."
Rolling her eyes, clearly heartbroken and confused, Quinn attempts to leave.
Stretching his arm like taffy, Pennywise pulls her back to him from many feet away.
Can't she see that he's inhuman? Whatever she does he can correct without even dropping a bead of sweat.
She can't win, and she never will.
Pennywise softens his stare into something less threatening... He slowly bends to the crook of Quinn's neck, placing gentle kisses on her skin. "I am still me."
Uncomfortable with his caress, Quinn begins to frown.
He continues to press his lips to her body and Quinn quickly realizes that she isn't uncomfortable with his kiss at all, she's uncomfortable with enjoying it... Uncomfortable with still feeling safe with a creature that shouldn't even exist.
Pennywise pulls from his kiss and watches her quiet expression... he feels hopeful, now that she's trembling less and her eyes have softened.
He wants to tell her that he loves her, but it just isn't in his character to say something so forward.
"Do I still call you Bill?"Her voice meek and sweet makes his heart beat loudly.
"Pennywise." He responds.
"Will you take me home Penny?"Pennywise shuts his eyes, soul melting at the cute nickname she has quickly came up for him.
Pennywise becomes hungry, wanting to give her what he received in the car.
"Yes Quinn, you'll go home." He whispers sweetly pressed against her face. "Right after I return the favor."
Tearing the panties from her body, Pennywise pins her wrists above her head.
She gasps, squirming in refusal. "No! Please Pennywise, I don't want that!"
Widening her legs her dripping cunt says otherwise.
Pennywise's insanely long tongue swipes between her thighs as he did the first time he met her.
She gasps, body arching in pleasure... Quinn remembers that feeling immediately. "It was you, i-in the bathtub."
Grinning deviously he nods. "Of course, who else could give you a kiss below like that?"
His mouth returns to her sweet succulent flesh. He's wanted badly to feast on this pussy for so many days now.
Hands forcing her dress above her chest, his eyes widen at her perky breasts... nipples hardened and painfully aroused.
Biting a glove off of his hand, he bites his lip as he enjoys the skin to skin contact of caressing her full bust.
Covering her face, Quinn becomes embarrassed. She tries to cover the moans from her tongue, but Pennywise hears them, Pennywise loves them.
Rolling the bud between his fingers with sudden gentle pinches, Pennywise dives back into her cunt.
His mouth is too good for her, she can't keep still.
He grips her ankles folding her legs to her chest to refuse her from moving his mouth from her pussy.
He circles his tongue around her swollen clit, nipping it to watch her body jolt. He slurps on her every drop of pleasure, swallowing it as if his thirst could never be quenched.
His tongue plows into her pussy, bringing shameful squeals through her begging lips. Tongue long enough to fuck her like a cock, he pushes it in and out of her hole and brings her to tears.
His monstrous cock aches, forced against his tight clown costume, and ready to burst from her taste and squeals alone.
Pennywise's face dug deeply between her thighs, his nose and mouth slide vengefully prodding inside the slick folds of her smooth cunt, forcing her to quake as she pulls on the red strands of his hair.
The clown's eyes shutter closed, rolling back into his skull in pure satisfaction. Mouth usually dripping with blood however tonight dripping with Quinn's sweet nectar.
"Please Pennywise..." Her sweet voice stabs at him. "Will you kill me too?"
"You hush now Quinn, you'll be back in your bed, sleeping the best that you've ever had." Breathless and eager to make her orgasm, Pennywise continues.
She moans... pleasure becoming far too painful for her. "When?!"
"Don't act as if you want me to rush, I can feel how much you're enjoying this Quinn." Nearly offended, he shuts her up with a deep tongue plow against her cervix.
She shouts in pleasure... Ashamed of knowing how incredible his tongue feels, and feeling like an absolute little slut for an evil clown.
However soon he answers her anyway. "You'll go home when I get you to that point , when you realize that I won't stop seeking after you, and when you realize that with me— you'll never want to be sought after by anyone else again."
"Do you understand Quinn?" His question is threatening.
She nods. "Yes."
"Good girl." He grins. "Now release for me... release for me, and you will be home sweet girl. You'll just have to do it, right here on my tongue."
Lying on his belly, face devouring Quinn's pussy as he grips the thick indents of her hips, Quinn begins to buck her hips... fucking his face until the tightened spring in her stomach releases.
Tears dropping from her eyes as she shouts out from a mind blowing orgasm, Quinn's vision fades into a bright light.
Seeing only white and hearing a ringing similar to after a bomb, she fades into an unexpected slumber, waking up peacefully tucked into her bed back at her home...
—•—
Days pass and Quinn still doesn't understand what has happened to her this summer.
She's painfully alone with this knowledge, knowing that no one would ever believe her about Pennywise, nevertheless believe that she's been intimate with him.
Her thoughts of the night with Pennywise in the sewer plagues her mind... the memories make her drip with desire and because of it, she feels embarrassed.
What's even more embarrassing, is that she can't help but wonder why he hasn't made contact with her again...
Tempted to visit him in the tunnels, she doesn't want to seem desperate. Her mental health fights with her, filling her with shame knowing that longing for this creature is extremely wrong.
As the weekend draws closer, it'll be a week since they've seen each other. Quinn has gotten to the point of believing that maybe she's just going crazy, maybe she dreamt all of this!
She forces herself to drop him from her thoughts so she can prepare herself for the school year, and get back to everyday life.
Quinn showers in her parents' bathroom, refusing to bathe in the hall bathroom being that was where she first encountered the clown.
As she dresses for bed in a black silk night gown, she brushes her wet curls and brushes her teeth in the mirror of the hall bathroom.
As she spits the toothpaste out, she hears the calling of the clown.
"Oh Quuuiiinnn.."Pennywise nearly sings for her as he calls her name, echoing throughout the bathroom's pipes.
She gulps, realizing that everything that happened between them is absolutely true.
His voice taunts with seduction. "I've missed you honey..."
Cutting off the bathroom light, she decides to ignore the noise and leave.
"Don't you dare leave this bathroom."His threat startles her. "Come here Quinn."
She rolls her eyes, kneeling to the tub as she begins to whisper aggressively at the tub's drain, looking like a psychopath if anyone were to catch her. "What do you want from me? It's been a week, I thought I was free of you."
"Never." He chuckles. "It seems that you've been counting our days apart... if I'm correct, you've missed me just as much?"
"I waited for your bath." Pennywise causes Quinn to blush in embarrassment. "You never came."
"Showered in my parents' bathroom." She shrugs stubbornly. "Felt safer."
Pennywise laughs. "Then we'll just have to have our fun now."
Pennywise's gloved hand reaches through the drain...
"Take the glove off." He demands. "Then sit on it."
Quinn trembles as she pulls the clown's white glove from his hand.
His hand is revealed, gray, monstrous, with talon like nails.
She flinches at the thought of being fingered by that. "Put that away!" Quinn complains. "I will not do anything with that."
He sighs. "Fine."
Pulling his hand back into the drain, he soon brings it back up... handsome, soft, human, with enticingly long digits...
"Now." Compromising with the girl, Pennywise sighs. "Be a good girl, and come sit on this hand Quinn."
She licks her lips, becoming convinced to find pleasure on the handsome hand.
But she refuses... "No!" She snaps. "Pennywise, I won't! I'm going to bed!"
"So help me god Quinn." The threatening tone of his voice stops her dead in her tracks. "If you don't sit on this hand, I will come through this drain and fuck you to absolute pieces."
She wishes that his demanding threat didn't make her melt between her thighs... but interestingly enough, it does.
Quinn enters the tub. Hiking up her silk nightgown, she kneels to the floor of the tub, taking a seat on the warm hand coming from the drain.
His deep baritoned chuckle echoes through the steel pipes. "You know what to do."
And that she does.
Quinn begins to buck her hips... fucking the hand with slow trembled breaths.
Pennywise massages her clit with his thumb, making her slick and preparing her for his probing fingers.
Quinn continues to soak his hand, sticky webbed dripping from her needy little cunt oozing down Pennywise's wrist.
He places two of his longest fingers inside of her, bending at the knuckle to caress her g-spot each time they thrust into her. Quinn closes her eyes and enjoys the pleasure of each bounce onto the hand, a moan escapes her tongue as a broad thumb seeps into her asshole.
He's marked her as his own. Having the girl obsessed with the many ways he can fill her.
Quinn gyrates the lacy dress past her shoulders, her hands begin to toy at her now revealed sensitive breasts as she reaches closer to her cum.
Drawing the faint taste of blood from her full bottom lip, she bites down hard enough to silence her need to squeal.
"I have such the surprise for you.."Mysterious temptation clouds over Pennywise's voice. "Tomorrow, I'll come get you. Be ready for me, be ready for your gift."
"W-What is it?" Quinn's breath hitches in her throat, being choked by a moan.
"Be patient little lamb." He chuckles. "You will see."
Quinn clinches around Pennywise's fingers, nearing her finish. "Cum for me." A sweet command from Pennywise, sends Quinn into hysterics. She jolts, body quaking as she releases for him, soaking and pruning his fingertips.
Panting for breath after her climax, she watches the wet hand slide back down the drain... Quinn listens into the drain, hearing the sudden lapping of his tongue over his fingers, obsessed and constantly thirsty for her taste.
Realizing how much he craves for her, Quinn's crush grows larger. She's utterly fixated on her new lover.
"My glove?" Pennywise waits calmly for her to send it down the drain, but she refuses.
She gulps. "Tomorrow."
"You want to keep it?" You can nearly hear the joyful smile in Pennywise's voice.
"Yes." She admits.
He accepts it. "Fine, as long as you sleep with it pressed against your chest, or even better, between your legs."
"Quinn?" He calls once more. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow, sleep well sweet girl."
—•—
Quinn gets dressed early today not knowing which time to expect Pennywise.
Her knee shakes nervously as she waits all day on the edge of her bed, wondering if she should warn her family to not expect her home tonight... Hell, dealing with an evil entity, she even thought to warn them that she may never be back.
But the clown asked for her trust... so trust is what she has to give.
If he were to kill her, she's sure that he would have done it by now.
As the evening darkens, a nervous Quinn refuses to eat any meals... Her stomach is too anxious to accept any food to eat.
Quinn's eyes become tired, she accidentally begins to fall over into her pillows as sleep takes over her...
Before her head hits the pillow, the side of Quinn's face is carefully placed into the wide palm of Pennywise's hand.
She notices the feel of his skin instead of the pillow on her cheek, not once caring to ask how did he get inside of her room.
"You're late." Quinn's voice so very quiet and sleepy, plays gently on his heart strings.
Pennywise leans into the girl, wearing his human appearance as he softly kisses his tired love.
"I'm sorry sweetheart." He coos, taking his borrowed glove from her bedside table. "Just needed time to get things perfect for you."
As Quinn blinks her heavy eyelids open, she watches Pennywise puff on a cigarette. "So now you smoke?"
He shrugs. "Thought I'd see what's the hype around it to you humans."
Quinn disapproves, up from lying on her bed, she takes the cigarette from his lips and tosses it out of the opened bedroom window. "There is no hype to it, it's bad for you."
Amused with her sexy authoritative side, he wraps his arm around her body. His hand graces the small of her back gently as he lifts her to his kiss.
The tender kiss, mind blowing for them both as Quinn enjoys finally seeing his presence again, and Pennywise enjoys her beauty. Long brown legs in a pair of light blue denim short-shorts, dirty red converse tied in a bow on each of her feet, and braless in a nearly see through white summer tank top.
She's so gorgeous, it physically pains him.
Enjoying every detail of grace and beauty on her face, he pauses momentarily as he takes her image in. "Close your eyes."
Expecting to be transported somewhere, Quinn does just that. She closes her eyes, grasping onto his broad shoulders as she trusts him to take her wherever he wants.
Feeling ground beneath her feet, Quinn soon opens her eyes. She notices her house a few feet away as her and Pennywise walk hand in hand into the woods of her backyard.
She frowns in confusion. "The woods? Why?"
"So you can see how to get to me, and where to find me, whenever you need me." The calm comfort in his voice takes her worries away. She agrees with a nod, tightening her hand around his.
As the two walk together in the woods for a few short minutes, Pennywise follows a stream that leads them to the canals.
He makes sure that she's paying attention as he watches down upon her, she nods, memorizing the path of how to get to him.
They cross the dense rocks surrounded by water as they head towards the sewer. An older gentleman packed up from late night fishing stops them in their path.
Quinn instantly worries about how Pennywise will react... If she is to spend time with him, she never, ever, wants to see him kill.
"Penny, don't." Her voice a quiet plead for him to behave.
The man shines his flashlight into their direction, and Pennywise can hardly decide to kill him or not as he watches the man shine the bright light into his eyes.
"Hey kiddos! You shouldn't be out this late, especially around these parts. Haven't you all heard about the bodies being found around here? Apparently a murderer is on the loose, some even say an evil clown who lives in the sewers... although that's just a fable." The man chuckles.
"Can't say we're ones to believe in the clown." Pennywise laughs. "Like you said, it's just a fable, right?Have a good night sir!"
Quinn finally breathes again, glad that Pennywise never lost his cool.
He sighs. "The things I do for you."
Together they make their way into the sewers, sloshing through the mucky waters until they've reached the dry area of the tunnels.
Quinn notices how different it looks from the last time she was here...
Cleaned out, floating bodies taken elsewhere, and no pile of his victims belongings.
Even a bedroom is built...
Candles lit around the two of them for romance, and to mask the horrid smells of the sewer.
She begins to chuckle, impressed with the effort he put into making her feel comfortable with where he hides out at...
She walks around the bedroom touching the furniture and the decorations he put together to feel like a home.
Quinn knows the stuff is stolen, but it is the thought that counts.
"Too much?" Nervous and nearly sweating, Pennywise can't get a good read on her expression. "I over did it, huh?"
"I think it's beautiful." She admits. "The reason you went missing for a week?"
He shrugs. "I didn't like you being on the floor, you deserve better... A bed, a place to stay whenever you want to free yourself from the outside world."
Quinn's cheeks blush, clearly falling in love with the clown.
"The bed is awfully big..." Kicking off her shoes, Quinn lays back onto the pillows. "Should I expect to share it?"
Pennywise chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully however noticeably infatuated with the girl.
"Quinn?" He curiously asks. "Do you only like me like this? Does the clown frighten you?"
She smiles. "I like you for the man that I got to know over summer, regardless of how he appears to me. Penny, I like you, for you."
Pennywise gazes into his reflection of the bedroom's mirror with guilt... suddenly becoming unsure of which version that he even likes, himself...
He chuckles dryly. "So I'll change it up, keep things interesting with my different appearances."
She agrees with him, yet begins to sigh. "I'm sorry that I can't do the same."
Her feelings of not being enough for him snaps Pennywise out of his gaze.
"Don't ever say that again." He quickly leaves the mirror, joining her as he sits on the edge of the bed. "You don't need multiple appearances. I love just the one that you have, I'll never want for anything else."
"You love my appearance?" She asks. "Or you love me?"
He gulps, finally admitting the truth. "Quinn, I love you."
Feeling relief as he finally gets those three meaningful words off of his chest, he doesn't even care to hear her say it back... for he is sure that the day will come.
The two share a longing kiss.
A tongue kiss that heats into their clothes being stripped off of each other.
As he pulls the daisy dukes along with her panties off of her body, he bites his lip as he watches her lift enough to slide them off of her legs... just as impatient and horny as he is.
Pennywise watches Quinn tremble with excitement, as she glistens between her thighs, ready for his taking.
Lying on her back, Quinn nearly begs for missionary sex. The type of sex where the wider she spreads, the more she can feel him dig into her.
"Are you sure?" Surprisingly gentle, Pennywise asks for her reassurance.
Biting her lip and already panting, she nods.
He doesn't think twice.
Lying over her gorgeously nude body, Pennywise begins to place slow, bruising kisses along her skin. Sucking the flesh of her chin, neck, and breasts... Marking her with his affection.
Accepting another of his tongue kisses, Quinn moans into his mouth as he loses himself down her throat.
Pennywise begins to slowly lube his cock, thrusting slowly through her slickness until he's covered in her nectar. Just the gliding of his cock through her folds causes her body to arch, pleading aimlessly to be fucked into.
Pussy slapping her with the tip of his weighty cock, he grins deviously as he watches her body jolt each time it smacks her on her throbbing clit.
Toyed with enough, already to the point of soaking his brand new sheets, he gains momentum to seep into her entry.
Slowly thrusting his tip into her, Pennywise holds her hips down as she attempts to run from the pleasure.
His plows deepen..
He watches Quinn take half, then all of his cock as he stretches her to her max. Watching his cock spread her wide is the prettiest thing he's ever seen, his groans tremble as he watches each time he slides out, and rams back into her.
Quinn grips the sheets as Pennywise kisses her salty tears away.
"So pretty.." He coos. "And such a good listener. Quinn, baby, are you with me?"
The girl nods, body blushing red as she endures his brutal fucking, however enjoying the restraint on her breathing from his crushingly heavy body and the fullness of his veiny erection.
Catching a bouncing breast into his mouth, Pennywise's tongue laps teasing circles around her hardened nipple.
Picking up speed and listening to the wet fapping of their bodies and the squeaking bed frame, Pennywise is determined to bottom completely out into her.
Finally doing it, pushing his cock in to the base of his happy trail, Quinn presses her hand against his chest, begging for mercy. "Please—" she pants. "Penny, I-I can't!"
Taking the hand from his chest, Pennywise kisses the girl's palm gently before placing it above her head. Holding her wrists back from interrupting his heavy bucking. "You can baby, you can."
Taking his free hand to her fleshy clit, he massages her in a way that makes her squirm underneath him.
Finishing his handsy caress with a sharp slap onto her pussy, he sends her into oblivion.
Quinn's body begins to quake, squealing inaudibly as the orgasm melts her into the mattress.
Wanting that same incredible finish, Pennywise's speed picks up, aiming for his cum. Her orgasm spasming around his cock as he grunts, mercilessly fucking into the girl.
"Fuck!" He shouts as he nears his finish.
Pussy quivering around his erection, already doused in his sticky precum, his sweetheart lays tiredly beneath him...
Sweated out, dumbly drooling, and looking so beautiful half-lidded and absolutely slutty for only him.
To bring him to his climax, he begs to hear her perfect little voice.
"Is this what you want?" He grits through his teeth. "Could we have this for a lifetime?"
Quinn nearly cries, numbly taking the rough fucking like a champ. "Yes Pennywise, God yes— just continue to be good to me, be good to Derry."
He nods, simping immediately to whatever she wants. "Mmm- fuck! This pussy is fucking fantastic. Yes baby.. Haven't killed since we met, I'll do whatever you want."
"Haven't killed since we met..."
"Haven't killed since we met..."
The words replay, strangling his mind.
How hasn't he killed, since they have met?
Pennywise comes to a slow pace, not understanding how he has been surviving if he hasn't fed off of fear?
....
Or has he been feeding off of it all along?
Quinn, she fears him.
He only has been surviving around her, because she's fucking faking it...
Pennywise believes that Quinn doesn't feel the same about him at all, she loathes him, she's frightened by him and doing whatever she needs to do in hopes of keeping her family and this town safe from him.
He can't hold his appearance any longer, as anger fuels him, Pennywise bursts into full clown...
Eight feet tall, ravenous teeth, hands that tear through his white gloves due to the black talon sized nails, and a monstrous cock that fills Quinn to the absolute brim.
She hisses in immediate pain, "Pennywise it hurts!"
The bed breaks down to the floor now that he's massive and impossibly heavy. However, Quinn's tight little cunt feels sooo very good to him.
"It hurts?"He begins to deviously taunt. "Does it now? I think you can take it Quinn. Be good for me."
She squeals. "Please! You're still inside me, you'll have to go back to your human appearance!"
Becoming familiar again with his evil nature, he refuses. "I think I'll fuck you just like this."
His hands wrap around her entire waist as if she were a can of soda, the clown's form being so large over her petite frame it's like fucking into a Barbie doll.
He huffs, nearing a mountain size amount of cum as he nearly splits Quinn into two.
The clown's mouth begins to drool as he places his hand at her womb, feeling his cock and watching the insane tummy bulge he forces into her guts.
So fucking sexy, he feels his explosion erupting.
Eyes rolling back into his skull, the clown releases to the sweet sounds of her cries.
Muscles tightening as does the vicious grip on her skin as he stills himself inside of her and coats her walls with his hot sticky cum.
"When were you going to stop wasting my fucking time?" Pennywise watches his cum spill out on each side of his cock that still penetrates her. "I can taste the fear on you, so don't dare lie."
Aggravated with her silence, he slams her against the bed. "Faking everything that you've said... Why, because you think it would keep you alive longer?"
He clicks his tongue with taunt. "I'm too old to be made a fool of, but you almost had me Quinn... you really did."
"Penny please!" She begs, although now on soft his giantly inhuman cock continues to sit deeply inside of her. Without barely any movement, she still feels as if she's being fucked due to his size and the pulsing veins of his cock. "I-I can't speak to you like this."
Not being able to catch her breath, and seeming to be seriously ill. Her poor body can't take much more.
She begs tearfully. "It's too much!! S'too full!!"
Pulling himself out of Quinn, she jolts at the lewd pop of the head of his massive cock exiting her.
He watches his cum seep from out of her with more plans of revenge sex and doing this all night to her.
She can finally breathe as her body relaxes, pouring out his messy load into the middle of her trembling thighs.
"Talk!" Pennywise shouts.
"I'm not afraid of you!" She cries.
Pennywise's finger nail sticks uncomfortably into her belly button, with just the slightest drag, Quinn's steaming hot intestines could be lying right in front of her eyes. "Oh Quinn... I've enjoyed every minute with you, but don't think that I won't tear you into fucking shreds if you lie to me again."
"I'm telling you the truth, I don't fear you!" The poor girl, now heartbroken and regretting becoming the lover of a demonic entity continues to weep until she runs out of tears.
"The fear that you are surviving off of is my fear of the future. Fear of our fate together being that we are in an impossible relationship..." Quinn explains herself , unable to even look at him anymore. "A girl and an entity— a fear of the universe pulling us apart when I have too fallen in love with you."
....
His eyes soften with immense guilt... Finally realizing what he has done...
Looking at his love lying exhausted, half-lidded, and fucked to a pulp, he worries that he has injured her... For the first time feeling fear himself.
What Pennywise failed to realize, is that the girl never feared him at all. What she feared, was losing him.
#age g@p#wattpad#dark romanticism#dark romance#smut#bill skarsgård#pennywise#stephen king#monster#clown#bwwm wmbw#bwwm love#bill skarsgard x reader#bill skarsgard fanfiction#bill skarsgard imagine#dubc0n#tw noncon#er0tica#rough kink#roughfuck#cnc k!nk#rough cnc#cnc kidnapping#r4p3 kink#pennywise the dancing clown#it movie#it chapter two#it fanart#fanfic#breeding k1nk
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can it be easy this once? / steve harrington
summary: steve accidentally gives a stupid answer to your honest question. (best friends with benefits pining idiots to lovers, fem!reader)
unedited we die like men & title from the alcott by the national ft taylor swift hehehe enjoy
It started as a means of comfort after Starcourt, when he was bloody and bruised up but you took him home and got closer, closer, closer, until it turned into a mess of blurred lines and panting breaths, lips swollen for reasons other than being hurt, for better reasons, reasons that brought forth safety and relief for the two of you. You both tend to hunger for such things. It’d been good, easy, for a bit there. Lately it’d felt like the intimacy was threatening to choke you. Like you’d never met a form of closeness you didn’t cling to. And God, did it feel like you were clinging. Craving an unwarranted change. Was it so unwarranted? You weren’t sure, you could never tell.
The air in his room is hot and sticky with summer, the ceiling fan providing the barest relief, your bare skin providing the slightest bit more. You stare all around his room, taking in all the stark traces of him, though in truth it doesn’t betray much, just as he attempts to. It’s a plain room, plaid walls, matching curtains, his desk messy and cluttered, all the dresser’s drawers slightly ajar like he spent a touch too long shuffling through all his clothes to determine which outfit would be best, which, knowing him in the way you do, he probably did. You knew he wasn’t as secure as he liked everyone to believe. Steve Harrington tried his best, but sometimes you saw right through him.
Other times he was harder to read. It was probably purposeful, layers of protection built around himself. Don’t love anyone, don’t let anyone love you, and you won’t get hurt. People can only hurt you if you let them. Steve wasn’t letting anyone anymore. Definitely not his parents, definitely not Nancy Wheeler, definitely not random girls who would inevitably end up disappointed with him. He swore it all off. He was a hopeless romantic who never wanted to be in love again. You understood it for the most part. Or you attempted to. It was hard when you were halfway (maybe more than halfway) in love with the guy, in his bed most nights, in his company most days, acting like a couple without being an established couple because he was too hesitant and you were too gentle to be pushy.
He nudges you lightly, naked chest peeking up from his covers, naked everything else kept firmly underneath. “You okay? You’re quiet.” He sits up so he’s level with you, and you avoid eye contact by leaning down toward the floor to grasp for the shirt he let you borrow, a faded Spider-Man one he insisted was from middle school. You didn’t entirely believe him, but maybe it was just funny, and kind of sweet, to picture Steve sleeping in a Spider-Man shirt and keeping it a secret just for himself. You pull the shirt on over your head, and before you can do it for yourself, he reaches for your hair and takes it out from where it’s caught under the shirt. The familiarity of it makes you flinch. You can have sex with him all you want but God forbid he’s the slightest bit loving outside of that. It confuses you, the softness in the touches that aren’t in bed with him. If he holds your hand in any context other than bringing you as into him as possible while he slips himself in and out, you lose all sense of normalcy between the two of you. You can’t be normal when he’s holding your hand and stroking your cheeks and being kind, soft, adoring Steve, without being your Steve.
“I’m fine, I’m just…” You reach for your shorts at the end of the bed. Steve watches you get dressed with his eyebrows scrunched together, confused. You’re not usually in a rush to leave after you have sex. Not that he wants you to. He likes that you stay until day sinks into night and he drives you home and waits to repeat it all again. Waits to see you, generally. And it’s not sex every single time. You drag him to see whatever’s playing at the Hawk and he makes you sit with him at Family Video on slow days when it’s just him on the clock and a single tumbleweed blows through the store instead of any customers. He drives you just about anywhere you ask and he lets you put on any cassettes you want in his car even if he hates what’s playing. It’s nice, the friendship part of all of it. If you had to give everything else up and just keep the friendship you’d be willing. He’d be willing. You consider it. “Nothing, just tired, probably gonna head home,” you smile at him over your shoulder before pulling on your socks and it’s half-hearted and he knows it.
“What? You can sleep here, you know that,” he waves a hand around the room, trying to catch your gaze, but you avoid his eyes again. Descending light slants in through the curtains and envelopes him in gold. He glows, he’s so pretty. His hair is messy from where you heatedly ran your hands through it, but it still looks nearly perfect. The fact that he always looks so good infuriates you.
“No yeah, I know, I wanna like shower and stuff too, and I left my new book at home and I wanted to do some reading,” you bluff calmly, standing up from tangled bedsheets and roaming the room in search of your sneakers.
“That Stephen King scary clown book? I’ll take you home and you can come back and read it here, so you don’t get scared,” and he knows you won’t get scared and that you love horror far more than he ever could but he just really, really doesn’t want to be alone. Why would you go when everything’s right here? His parents aren’t home and something about you leaving makes him antsy and desperate. When you still refuse to look at him he feels himself, his confidence, growing smaller and smaller. “Did I- did I do something?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound as pathetic as it does.
You whip around to face him, finally, finally, and touch a hand to his face. Relief floods through him at the heat of your fingers. “No, of course not, it’s all me, okay? I’m all sweaty and awful.”
“You look beautiful, I swear,” he squeezes your hand and you feel like you’re drowning. It’s hard to breathe, your chest tight. “Are you sure you’re okay? You can talk to me, it’s me.” He scoots closer, if that’s possible. “You’re one of my best friends, we tell each other everything.” You look up toward the ceiling, inwardly groaning. Best friend.
“You do this with all your best friends?”
“Well, no, Robin wouldn’t touch me even if she didn’t like girls-“ He feels himself starting to grin, teasing smile lilting at his lips.
“Steve!” You’re laughing a little and so is he as you push his arm back. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“What’d you mean, then?” He’s still smiling, that entrancing, deliberately pouty, lazy smile. Vaguely smirky. You don’t know if it’s deliberate, a ploy to distract you, con you into staying, make you less prone to saying what you want to say, but you press anyway, even though he’s making you want to lean forward and endlessly kiss the smirk off his mouth.
“I just think, I don’t know… you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”
“’Course not, why, you got other plans after this?” He grins again. You roll your eyes. He makes it so hard sometimes.
“Steve,” you whine, “I’m so serious right now.”
“Okay, okay. No, you’re the only one for me.” He means it. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He asks you like it’s the easiest question in the world for him to ask but honestly he’s shitting his pants a little. He’s not sure what’d he say if you said yes, I am, and I think we should end this, which is where he’s assuming the conversation is going. You’ve got we shouldn’t do this anymore written all over you in his eyes and he’s steeling himself for the heartbreak.
“Does it look like I am?”
“Does it look like I am?” He repeats back, and he reaches for your hand in that too intimate way of his, takes it all careful and slow. “What’s this about?”
“I just, I just think, that, you know, I’m not seeing anyone, and you’re not seeing anyone, but we’re sorta… seeing each other, yeah?” You gesture between the two of you. He nods. He’s staring at you very intensely, waiting for you to get your words out. He’s still waiting for you to say you think this whole thing has been a very bad mistake, a miscalculated judgement on your part, you should go back to the way things were, so he’s not expecting what comes out of you next. “Shouldn’t we be, like, official, then?”
And instead of throwing up all the ways he so badly would love for that to happen, he chokes out, because he’s stupid and speechless, “Official?” And the way he says it, like it’s a curse when it’s only his disbelief that you’d want that with him after all this time, makes you immediately go into panic mode.
He quite literally sees the way you lose any sense of confidence in your question and he immediately tries to take it back as you stand from his side and start trying to force your words back in your mouth, too. “Fuck, forget I said anything,” you mumble, spying your shoes shoved under his desk where you’d comfortably kicked them off. You hasten to put them on as Steve scrambles up from the bed and starts dressing, matching your frantic speed.
“Hey, wait, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that-“
“It’s fine, Steve, I get it, I totally do, this isn’t that for you, it’s fine-“
“It is, it is-“ but you’re not hearing him, your mind is already elsewhere. It’s in your own bed in the quiet, alone with your thoughts and not with him, mercifully not with him. You need this one mercy, “I’ll drive you home, babe, c’mon, I’ll explain everything, please-“
“I got it, it’s fine, I’m fine, you don’t have to explain, okay? I got it,” and you don’t just walk out of his house and down the block to yours, you absolutely flee. You take Steve’s heart with you.
He’s pacing the floor behind the register at Family Video three days and three shifts later, practically clawing at the walls of the place, and Robin is pulling her hair out at the sight of him in distress this way.
“What did you do?” She finally breaks, flipping her magazine shut.
“What? How do you know it was me?” He stops pacing. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.
“You’ve had three shifts and she hasn’t visited one single time. She always visits. And I know I didn’t do anything wrong, because I never do anything wrong, so, what’d you do?” Robin places her hand under his chin and stares at him expectantly.
He huffs, his hands on hips. “Maybe she did something, Robin, did you ever think of that?”
“Definitely not,” Robin retorts, waiting for Steve to be serious.
He deflates. “Okay, it was me.”
“I know that, now continue.”
“We were, you know,” he tilts his head down and raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes.
“Having sex, sure,” Robin bobs her head. A customer in the nearest aisle frowns and shuffles toward a different section further away from the two of them.
Steve shushes her. “I wasn’t trying to say it so loud.”
“Having sex,” Robin repeats, louder this time, not bothering to fight back a laugh at Steve’s exasperated expression, “continue.”
“Well, after that, she started asking if, if I was seeing anyone, which of course I’m not, because, you know, I’m into her, obviously, so I told her I wasn’t, and she said she wasn’t, so she said maybe we should be official.” Steve hesitates to say the rest of what happened. He still can’t believe all he could do when you said the words was repeat them back to you with that stupid look on his face instead of giving you the biggest, loudest declaration of love in a big, messy, pathetic, devoted way, the way he pictures himself when it comes to you, messy and pathetic and devoted, and he replays that moment back to himself all day long, thinking of everything else he could’ve said to make you understand.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? She’s all you talk about all day long, you want to be with her, don’t you?”
“Of course I do!” He snaps, dragging a hand across his face. “But when she said it I just couldn’t get the words out and she got, she got so sad and she left without me being able to explain anything and she hasn’t answered the phone which, yes, I’ve been calling, and I don’t know how to do this.” He’d never been good at school but he knew he’d get a Grade A in Pitiful.
“Do what? Tell a girl you love her? You’ve been in relationships before, Steve.”
“I know, but…” he sighs. “I’m different now, like, it’s not as easy anymore, for me, and I- I don’t want her to get hurt, and I don’t want to get hurt, it’s like, everything used to be my fault, and I wasn’t as good as I could have been, and I don’t want to break anything, I don’t want it to get fucked up, because it’ll be my fault, and I can’t do that again. Not to her.” He swallows, the words harder to come by than he would care to admit. “I’m a little… I’m a little in love with her, I think.” This is said quietly. It frightens him to say it out loud. He’s gone over it in his head, those words, so few of them, but they say so much, and it’s scary. He hasn’t said them to someone in years. The last time he did he got so brutally hurt he thought he’d never recover. But he had. So why was it still so scary?
“A little bit?” Robin teases, but it’s all love for him, truly.
“Alright, a lot in love,” he concedes. He wants to get used to saying it. He wants to say it to you. For real. Loudly. “I still don’t know how to do this, though. Not anymore.”
“Come on!” Robin gets up from her stool and places her hands on his shoulders. “You’re supposed to be Steve Harrington. You were using those…” she pauses for a beat and then, “charms,” the word is said with the smallest hint of sarcasm but she persists nonetheless, “on tons of girls in high school and at Scoops! Now whip them out again for our very nice friend that you sometimes go to town with!”
“When did any of those charms,” he says it with a matching sarcastic tone, “work aside from when I was sixteen and an idiot?”
“You might not be sixteen anymore but you’re still an idiot, if that helps.”
“It doesn’t but thank you for the encouragement.”
“I’m just saying!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up and returning back to her seat. “Putting yourself out there is always gonna be scary, but you can’t let that stop you. You’d actually be an idiot if you let that stop you. Are you just never gonna see her again? No, because you’d go insane. It’s not like what you did was all that bad anyway.”
“You really think so?” He perks up a bit, needing that confirmation that he isn’t a totally awful and irredeemable person. It’s easy for him to fall headfirst into that spiral of thinking. It was a trap set with the most accessible, perfect bait and he somehow always found himself walking straight into it without stopping to think if he was being fair to himself.
“You’ve both been in bad spots, you reacted the way you did and she reacted the way she did out of what was most likely panic and embarrassment. She’s definitely not even mad at you. Probably just, again, embarrassed. If you explain I think it’ll all be okay, Steve, I swear.” Robin can’t take much more of this conversation circling around, as much as she loves Steve and wants to be there for him, she would love him even more if he acted on his feelings and allowed himself some happiness for once. “So do you think you can you, like, maybe go tell her so she can keep visiting us at work? I need more company than just you and Keith and these customers with no taste,” she complains, glaring at the closed door that hides Keith, in all his absolute glory. The customer from before hears her comment and storms out. Robin rolls her eyes.
“Right, yeah, tell her I love her, tell my best friend I love her,” he frowns, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. “Maybe you could just call her first and ask-“
“Steve! I am not meddling in your love life like that when you already know everything there is to know!” She throws her magazine at him. “She said she wants to be with you, go be with her!”
“Alright, alright!” He waves his hands dismissively. He begins to pace again, this time his eyes held to the clock. Robin groans. There’s still three hours left of their shift.
You’re in your room wallowing, or doing what’d you call attempting not to wallow but failing at it miserably. You haven’t touched a single page of your book, mostly content to just listen to sad records and more or less stare at the wall. It was stupid, you knew, to behave in such a way over some guy. But it didn’t feel like some guy. It was Steve, after all. It all felt deeper than just some guy. You two had been through a lot together, more than most people have been, and if you’d just ruined your friendship with someone you always felt safe, felt at home with, over feelings you couldn’t control and probably would be better off not having, you were going to need some serious therapy.
It probably was silly of the two of you to start this thing up anyway, you reason, fighting back your urge to do any further crying into a pillow. You try to focus on painting your nails a nice shade of dark blue but it reminds you of Steve’s old Scoops uniform and of that night (and all that nights that followed) so you stop in the middle of your second thumb and grab nail polish remover and start scrubbing away at your finished right hand.
“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you mutter, the cotton ball in your hand soaked through with blue and your nails discolored and muddy. “I am ridiculous,” you say to yourself, shaking off your wet hand. Your room is filled with the smell of acetone and disappointment. You think about lighting a candle when your doorbell rings. You debate answering it before it rings again. And then again. And again, more frenzied this time.
You open the door to a distressed Steve. His cheeks are red and he’s breathing like he can’t anymore. He’s not the multi-star athlete he was in high school, he realizes in this moment. “Did you- did you just run here from work?” You ask him, but he’s already too close to you, not answering your question, gazing at you because simply looking isn’t enough and has never been enough. He is gazing. He is flush with adoration. It’s hard not to bloom under that radiance. He makes you want to forget everything and go back to plush lips on hot skin and the quiet contentment that came alongside being with him in those first few months. You back up a little into your doorway but he steps up to you, following your steps. “Where’s your car-“
“Forget that for a sec,” he says, and you stop talking out of surprise. “Just, just tell me if we do this it’ll be okay, and we won’t be terrible for each other, and we’ll be good,” because he needs to hear it, even if it’s ridiculous and he’s jinxing it before it’s begun he needs to know you’re right there with him. “Like, just tell me it can be easy this once. If you broke my heart I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. ‘Cause I love you. I do. And I want this.” And you get it. He’s letting you get it. He’s letting you all the way in. You realize, flustered and basking in it, that he’s the first one to say those words. That you hadn’t even said them when you posed your first question. But he’s saying them out loud and it’s brilliant and beautiful. He is beautiful.
It makes you want to weep, the love that swells here, out in the open. “Fuck, Steve, what type of girl do you think I am, breaking the heart of the guy I’ve been in love with since he started sneaking into my bedroom?” He smiles. He glows. It’s so beautifully Steve. Maybe it can be easy.
When he kisses you, he proves it: the ease, the tranquility. He is fervent and burning. Everything is urgent with Steve. Especially kissing. He captures every bit of you immediately. His touch is light when he urges you out of your doorway and into your living room so he can shut your front door and quit giving the neighbors what he’s sure is the show of a lifetime. It is for him, at least.
#IM JUST GONNA POST THIS NOW BECAUSE I WANTED TO WRITE SMUT BUT I KEEP DELETING IT AND IF I DONT JUST POST AS IS IM GONNA END UP NEVER POSTIN#i feel like the ending is rushed but otherwise i did enjoy writing this immensely!#love you guys<3333#i will write smut one day but not today i guess! i’m literally at work rn too soo#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#steve x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington one shot#stranger things x reader#stranger things
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Hi im a samgirl and i dont mind if others feel differently about this but if you are interested in a samgirl perspective, the short story to sam's allegorical queerness is that sam grew up feeling fundamentally different from his family. He felt that there was something dirty or unclean about himself which is how a lot of marginalized queer children feel growing up. It's not that queerness itself is monstrous but that society and the patriarchal family unit will cast queerness as the monstrous Other, which is why monstrosity is a pretty common queer allegory.
I keep getting asks about queer Sam and I'm not sure exactly why, other than people maybe assume I have a strong opinion about it. The simple truth is that I just don't find what's said about it compelling so it doesn't interest me. I have no issue with other people exploring it and don't have any desire to ruin anyone's fun. It's just that I don't personally see it when I dig deeper than the surface level of "he felt different" and examine why and exactly what Sam actually wanted and why he felt that way. I will get into that here to an extent I guess because I was asked in another piece of mail what my opinions were, but I don't intend it as an "argument" to start a fight or to dismantle anyone else's perception—just an explanation of my personal lack of interest in this particular type of meta.
First, I don't think "Sam grew up feeling fundamentally different from his family" works for me as a queer meta when the reason Sam felt "fundamentally different" was that—according to his own early framing—he was the normal one trapped in a family of freaks who wanted him to be a freak like them.
Sam says in 1.08 that he felt different from Dean and John, but when we read on to see why, he says it's because he wanted to play soccer instead of being a child soldier.
SAM Because I didn't wanna bowhunt or hustle pool - because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which, to our whacked-out family, made me the freak. DEAN Yeah, you were kind of like the blonde chick in The Munsters.
For people too young to get "the blonde chick in The Munsters", Dean is referring to Marilyn Munster, who was the one "normal" person in a family of monsters in a 1960s sitcom.
In childhood flashbacks in 4.13, Sam refuses to fight Dirk at first even though he could easily best him using the skills he learned from their father.
YOUNG DEAN That's right, you don't. You could have torn him apart. So why didn't you? YOUNG SAM Because I don't want to be the freak for once, Dean. I want to be normal.
In both situations, Sam views his family and what they do as freakish and wants to distinguish himself as the one normal one trapped in a family of monsters who is at threat of becoming like them by pure association and family pressure.
YOUNG SAM Yeah, my, aah -- my dad's a mechanic. So I have to be a mechanic, too. MR. WYATT Do you want to go in the family business, Sam? YOUNG SAM No one's ever asked me that before. MR. WYATT Well? YOUNG SAM More than anything, no.
In 5.16 Dark Side of the Moon, one of Sam's greatest childhood memories is getting to sit down for Thanksgiving dinner in a normal, upper middle class household instead of sitting around with "A bucket of extra-crispy and Dad passed out on the couch."
In 1.01, he says he wants to be nothing like his family. He says he is normal unlike them when Dean is telling him they're the same:
DEAN You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are. SAM And who's that? DEAN You're one of us. SAM No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.
Sam sees the upbringing that he has in common with Dean as something almost... humiliating—to the point that he plans to lie to Jess forever about how he was raised and about his family (1.01).
All of this to say... when the queer allegory I'm being sold is that a guy is queer because he wants to go to college, get married, have 2.5 kids, go no contact with his brother (because Dean isn't normal like him?), and lie about his family to his friends because the idea of them knowing he didn't grow up normal is embarrassing... I don't feel like I'm reading a queer allegory. I'd be more likely to think that if anything, I'm reading a comedy from the POV of "the token straight" who initially functions (in the Pilot) as the "normal" character to introduce the "normal" audience to an "abnormal" world in a relatable, palatable way.
That said, when we embrace the fact that the Winchesters are a family of freaks, there is an easy counterpoint here which is that Sam's attitude in the beginning of the series represents being closeted and desperately trying to assimilate with normal society and be perceived as just like everybody else... and his freak family is in the way. In this case, Sam knows deep down that he is like his family (i.e. queer) but desperately wishes he wasn't so that he could fit in. Given that I'm a big believer in Sam being a hunter through and through despite his occasional denials, I find this much more compelling than the argument that Sam feeling othered in his family because he sees himself (at least at first) as the one normal one makes him queer.
*One of you shaking me back and forth*
"But PK—WHAT ABOUT THE DEMON BLOOD?!?!"
Yeah yeah yeah. While it doesn't start out that way, eventually, Sam does reflect on his childhood and see himself as Megamind instead of Marilyn Munster. This is retroactive though (in my opinion. I do not actually believe Sam could "sense" his dormant powers) after finding out that Azazel dropped blood into his mouth when he was a baby. Instead of feeling like the normal one in a family of freaks, Sam starts to feel like the biggest freak in the family, and Dean's "I'm a freak too" suddenly feels like platitudes. Dean—whose calls Sam didn't pick up for years—starts to seem like the normal one—the good one—between them. Dean is the hero character, the righteous man, the sword of heaven... and Sam thinks in his worst moments that he is someone Hero!Dean should be duty bound to kill (2.11). These are all feelings that (again—in my opinion) develop later. I talk about Sam's feelings of otherness and why he actually had those feelings and how I think the demon blood erroneously comes into play as an explanation for his insecurities here.
I think it probably also makes sense to mention here that the idea that Sam was treated as a monster by his family is very very overstated by portions of fandom. I'm not saying Sam never had reason to feel different or othered or unloved or neglected—he absolutely did (as did Dean). I am saying that people like to write about things that never actually happened when they talk about how Sam was treated growing up. Sam felt different from his family because John let Dean start hunting when he was younger than Sam, then he felt different because he wanted to play soccer and go to school while John wanted him to hunt, and because he thought Dean enjoyed being a parentified child and being raised like a soldier and Sam didn't. Retroactively, Sam feels different when he finds out he has powers. These do not develop until he is an adult, and it is never indicated to us that John knew about any of this when Sam was growing up—much less treated him differently growing up because of it. Retroactively, Sam believes Dean sees him as a freak for having visions even though Dean repeatedly treats his visions as no big deal and psychics are an accepted and trusted group within the hunter community (see: Missouri, Pam, Fred). Retroactively, Sam feels different because he was fed blood as a baby. He did not know this until he was an adult, and neither did Dean, as far as we know, neither did John. Sam never believes that Dean would act on John's last whispered command (that again—does not transpire until Sam is an adult) to the point that he repeatedly tries to guilt Dean into promises to follow through and carry out John's will. Retroactively, Sam feels like a freak in season 4 because Sam chooses to drink a completely different demon's blood of his own free will and develop a completely new power set and Dean doesn't think it's a good thing.
TL;DR Sam did not grow up being treated as the monstrous other by his dad and brother. He grew up as an understandably rebellious kid whose dad was a neglectful asshole and a drill sergeant, and he hated being dragged from place to place with no say. He felt different because he stood in contrast to a brother who tried his best to keep the peace because experience taught Dean that refusing to obey would get people killed (1.18), John would send Dean away if Dean gave him lip (14.12), and Dean felt he had to be there to take care of Sam and John (1.06).
More or less, these are the reasons I don't find the queer Sam metas I have stumbled across particularly compelling (along with—imo—Jared's lack of romantic chemistry with other men). At the same time, people seeing Sam as queer or not queer doesn't bother me. I am not trying to "take away" that interpretation from anyone else (as if I even could). I'm just not interested.
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