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dollfacefantasy · 2 months ago

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EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE ♡

pairing: yandere!chris redfield x fem!reader

summary: after jill goes missing, chris changes. a lot. you call it controlling, but he maintains it's necessary. the only thing you both agree on is that his devotion knows no bounds.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, fingering, predator/prey (chase), kidnapping/captivity, yandere, toxic relationship

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this. it was pretty fun to write and new for me <3

kinktober slot: day 6 - yandere

You're breathing too loud, and you know it. The puffs of air blowing from your lips are too sharp. You need to quiet down. He wasn't that far behind, and there had been no one else in this parking garage. Even someone who couldn't track as well as him wouldn't struggle to find you. If you didn't soften your gasps, he was going to catch you, and then you would be his again.

You clamp your fingers over your lips to silence a cry begging to come out. You're shaking like the dead leaves you can hear his feet crunching over. They'd blown into the cement structure from the crisp fall wind whooshing around. You could tell by the sounds that he was getting closer.

If you tried to run now, you'd be banking on the hope that you could be faster than him - a hope you weren't so confident in. Getting away from him the first time had been a fluke, you didn't think it would happen again so easily.

Chills erupt over your skin as you stay where you are, crouching behind a black corvette. You try so hard to think of what to do, but it was difficult when your thoughts were screaming about so many different things at once.

One of the main things playing in your psyche on repeat was If I hadn't broken up with him, none of this would've happened.

Of course, that wasn't true, but to your mind that craved freedom above all else in this moment, it seemed plausible.

You and Chris had been together for over a year. He started off normal as could be, and you thought you'd hit the jackpot. He was sweet and kind, hard-working and dedicated. He loved his friends and his job. Spent a lot of his time working out. Everything about him just seemed so ordinary, and that didn't change with the addition of you into his life.

He made room for you as if there'd been a hole in his existence shaped like your soul.

The two of you went out on dates regularly, he was always there to support you when you needed a shoulder to cry on or a pair of strong arms to lift you up. Truly, he seemed too good to be true. Looking back, you want to say that wasn't the case. He had been good. His kind heart was genuine. It wasn't a mask to hide the darkness underneath. He'd just changed.

It was after his friend Jill had gone missing. Something flipped in Chris. In a way, it was reasonable. Losing a close friend would put a damper on anyone's demeanor. But the way Chris shifted ran deeper than that.

The differences in his personality didn't manifest only in regards to himself. They came out largely in how he treated you. After losing Jill, it seemed that he believed your life was his to control, your choices his to make. He knew what was best for you - he told you as much multiple times. He knew how to dress you so that guys wouldn't try anything. He knew when and where it was acceptable for you to leave the house without him. He knew it was no longer safe for you to drink or even to talk with friends who would suggest such a dangerous activity. Not his girl. You weren't going to be put in harm's way like that.

So you broke up with him. You couldn't take the sting of the Redfield branding iron you felt slowly being pressed to your skin. You wanted out. Unfortunately, breaking up with him was on the list of activities that were strictly prohibited.

You could remember that day like it was yesterday even though it had been multiple months ago.

He didn't let you leave the morning that you'd told him the news of your decision - didn't even let you make it through the door. Instead he scooped you up like a rowdy puppy that tried to run out the front entryway when it was left ajar. He threw the bag you'd packed back in the closet and tied you to your shared bed.

That bedroom was where you spent most of your time after that. The binding to the corner was long enough that you could get out of bed and reach other parts of that room, but he wouldn't let you roam the house when you were still so insistent that you had to leave him. You only were allowed into the other rooms when he was there to supervise you and ensure your safety.

You tried your hardest to break free, but no amount of screaming and crying, begging and pleading, or kicking and hitting worked. With his size advantage, wrangling you back into submission came easy. That combined with the fact that he knew you. He knew the words to soothe you, the touches that lulled your mind back into a state of complacency.

Tonight was the first time you'd been out of that house in months.

You'd been so sick for the past week. You weren't even sure how that was possible considering you never go anywhere, but something had managed to infect you. Over the last several days, your temperature shot up and stayed in the triple digits. Everything felt distant and fuzzy.

Chris had been diligently taking care of you, tending to your every need. He made sure you had a steady supply of water and tissues, spoon-fed you broth when you felt like you could eat. As much as he reassured you that this was what he was here for, you could tell the constant attention your condition required took a lot out of him.

Today had been the best day out of the last seven. It seemed like you finally were descending the mountain on the side of recovery. When he fell asleep a few hours ago, he was knocked out. If you needed to get up to use the bathroom or grab a drink, he'd lazily undo your bindings and trudge out to wherever you needed to go, but it was obvious the thought of returning to bed clouded his mind.

The benefit that came with this was that he wasn't so attentive to making sure the restraints were all that secure when he refastened them.

You managed to slip one wrist out and then the other. Your ankles came loose next. You sat there next to his unconscious form, trembling with the terror of the possibility in front of you. Your feet swung off the mattress and hit the ground. Every move was executed with precise caution, the most effort you'd put into anything in your life.

The journey out of the bedroom was easy. You stayed quiet through the rest of the house as well. The hard part came when you managed to get outside.

You couldn't decide if you should take the car or not.

Walking on foot would be harder. Only clad in a tiny set of pajamas, it wouldn't be comfortable. The car would bring speed and warmth, but you also didn't put it past him to have some sort of tracking mechanism wired into it.

In the end, you had decided to forgo the vehicle. You pulled your coat that you grabbed before leaving tighter around your body and headed down the desolate suburban street.

Your heart pounded in your ears like a countdown to his appearance the whole time. At any second, you expected to hear the sound of his voice or feel his intense gaze upon you. But your surroundings remained quiet, nothing but the wind and occasional scuffle of small creatures lurking in the dark.

As you walked further away from his house and down through the neighborhood, you tried to figure out where to go. You didn't know how much time you'd have before he woke up, and when he did wake up, you had no clue what his exact reaction would be.

You attempted to not overthink that stuff and decided on going to your friend's apartment complex. It'd been months since you'd seen her. You only hoped she'd understand that you didn't have too much time for explaining.

Upon arriving there though, you realized your hopes were meaningless. You knocked on the door, and she answered in seconds, much too quick for someone who should've been asleep at this hour. Her phone was cradled between her shoulder and her ear, and just as the words of explanation were about to leave your mouth, you heard her say "Oh, here she is now... no problem, Chris. See you soon."

Your entire being exploded and came back together in a matter of seconds. Every impulse screamed at you to run, but she was gripping your arm and trying to pull you in her home. Your head was spinning, your fever had returned with a vengeance against you for getting out of bed and walking multiple miles.

It was all so much, especially since you hadn't talked to another human besides Chris in months. You resisted her leading you through the entryway, ignoring her words of concern. Apparently your boyfriend - if you could even call him that still - had explained away your presence over the past few months with stories of a break down. And now, for those who believed him, this was just another episode. Your recovery had been going so well, but everyone hits bumps in the road!

You tried to explain the truth, but it seemed futile. So you ran instead.

All of this still took too long though. By the time you made it down there, his car was screeching to a halt near the entryway.

You push away your memories in favor of paying attention to right now.

This wasn't over yet. You still had a chance. All you needed to do was make it out of here. If you did that, you could make it to a convenience store and call for help. His lies wouldn't work on strangers... would they?

You reassure yourself they wouldn't because it's the only choice you have. There's no other option besides hitching a ride, but you're not banking on that at this time of night in a suburban subdistrict.

Your back presses against the sleek metal of the cold, black corvette. Maybe you could hop the stone barrier edge of the garage and run through the bushes. Trying to sneak around other cars and slip away was another possibility. You try to go through the benefits and detractions of both in your mind, but your illness has your eyes growing heavy and your bones aching to stretch out and just rot.

The footsteps still continue to pound at a steady pace against the asphalt. Lowering yourself to the rough pavement, you peer beneath the car to gauge his location. It's hard to tell with how dark it is. The lighting in this garage wasn't good either. You scan the opposite side for his feet, but you don't find them.

It's only when you turn your head a little to look between the two front wheels that you catch him dashing at your position.

You startle at the sight and whip upright. Now that there's no time left to decide, you bolt for the nearest exit you can see. It feels like you're going fast, but his footsteps sound faster. A sob openly tumbles from your lips now. Everything feels hot. Your vision seems to be going dark at the edges.

Before you can stumble or make it to the opening though, a pair of strong arms wraps around your waist. They pull your body back against a broad chest. Your sob morphs into a scream, and your legs kick fruitlessly at the air in front of you.

"Shh shh shh. You're alright," his deep voice rumbles, "You need to calm down. You're already overworking yourself as is."

"I am not!" you shout in immediate defiance, "Let go of me!"

Your head falls back against his shoulder as hot tears stream down your cheeks. More cries and whimpers echo through the open space of the garage while you try to pry his arm from around your abdomen. Your fists pound on it and your fingers pry, but none of it amounts to anything.

"None of that," he tuts, "No crying or carrying on, or I won't wait until we get home to give you your punishment."

"Just let me go, Chris!" you beg. Your breaths grow ragged as more cries fill the space between them. "You can't do this to me!"

"I'm not doing anything, baby. What am I doing? Taking care of you while you're ill?" he asks. You're not sure if the innocence in his tone intends to mock you or if it's a genuine performance.

"I don't want to go back to the house!" you cry.

"Well, that's too bad, sweetheart. That's exactly where you're going. You need to rest," he says.

"I just need to be away from you!" you scream, loud enough for the shrill sound to bounce between the walls for seconds after.

Your protests dissolve into a harmony of wailing and yelling, every word tinged with anger and betrayal. You still try to peel him off, but your efforts become weaker as you realize how pointless they are.

As if to rub his strength in your face, Chris shifts you around in his grasp. He turns your body and scoops you up, cradling you against his chest. When he reaches his own car, he only uses one arm to hold you in place. You sob against his shoulder, letting your tears soak his collar rather than your cheeks.

His palm smooths up and down your back. "There you go, babydoll," he coos, "Poor thing. You got yourself all worked up. I can feel how high your fever is again."

He opens the driver's door and slides in with you. He starts to scoot your body into the passenger seat, but a sudden burst of energy overtakes your weakened self. You slap at his shoulders and try to shove him to the side to lunge back out the door.

Chris has always had sharp reflexes though. Most of your attacks don't even land, and the ones that do don't seem to affect him. He tightens his arms around your smaller frame and pins you against him. You hear the click of the doors locking, sealing your fate.

"Enough. You're gonna hurt yourself," he commands.

He keeps you nice and secure against him until you seem to have settled for the moment. Then, he tilts your head back so he can study your face.

His eyes sweep over your features while his hand swivels you by your chin.

"I'm really disappointed in you, you know?" he says, his voice much softer than it had been before.

You scowl at him. Like you would care about his fucking approval anymore. You try to shove him away again to crawl into your own seat, but he jerks your head and gets you to go still.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," he says. The firm voice was back.

"I didn't," you dispute, sounding much meeker.

"Don't back talk either," he says. He takes a pause before a frustrated sigh leaves him. "So ungrateful. My little brat. One day you'll learn."

Anger boils inside you again. You can't rein in your arguments.

"No I won't," you say and glare at him, your glossy eyes gleaming with fury, "The only thing I want to learn is how to actually get away from you!"

Rage simmers in his gaze now; though, it's much more muted than your own. His fingers dig into the plush of your cheeks. Not enough pressure to injure but the right amount to ache.

"You think you'd be so much better off on your own? Look at you. Stumbling around in the middle of the night, nothing on but this slutty little thing," he says. His fingers tug at the thin fabric of your shorts and top while his voice grows as cold as the wind outside.

You open your mouth to respond, but he continues speaking.

"I got you no problem tonight! Imagine if it hadn't been me! If it hadn't been someone who loves you! Someone who wants to keep you safe," he presses. It sounds like he's speaking to a soldier in the field rather than someone he claims to feel so tenderly about.

His hands have locked around your biceps during his speech. The pressure of his fingers against your weak skin feels strong enough to create phantom bruises. You squirm in his hold to try and alleviate the feeling.

"I don't care! None of this would've happened if you weren't so crazy in the first place," you whimper.

"I'm crazy? That's how you say thank you for the hours I take out of my life to provide for you. To care for you," he growls.

"I didn't ask you to do any of that!" you cry.

"You didn't need to," he says.

He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes and calming himself down for a moment. His fingers release their iron grip on your arms and soothe the skin with a few gentle rubs.

"I know you're not thinking straight because of your fever," he says. It sounds like he's speaking to both you and himself. "You've been so good for me lately... maybe punishment isn't what you need."

You stay silent and watch him, attempting to discern what would come next. Right now, escape wasn't the priority. You'd missed tonight's chance for that. Avoiding further reprimand took current precedent.

His hands massage the muscles he had been squeezing before they rise up to cup your face. You meet his gaze with trepidation in your own.

"I should've been paying more attention," he says, "It's not your fault you're acting out. My sweet little baby. Your head is probably hurting you so much, and I know you're feeling extra tired."

He brings the back of his hand to your forehead, tutting when he feels the heat emanating from there. You grit your teeth and fight the urge to actually roll your eyes. Part of you hated when he spoke like that. But an even bigger part of you hated the part that didn't.

"I should have known you'd be extra fussy. Especially since you're all pent up," he continues.

Your teary eyes flicker with curiosity but then narrow in response to that last statement.

The expression brings a smile to his face, as if something is cute. But to him, you suppose that's all you are. Most days you don't know what you want to believe - that Chris has truly lost it and considers all this a genuine kindness to you or if he's just as mentally in-tact as before, only without a care for your feelings. It's hard to tell which is more likely, and you can't say you have a strong preference for either.

One of his thumbs strokes back and forth across your wet cheek. "Don't give me that look, princess," he chides lovingly.

"I'm not being fussy," you say, the word rolling off your tongue with disgust, "And I'm not pent-up."

He chuckles and gives you a light bounce on his lap, your back bumping the bottom ridge of the steering wheel. "Now, what did I say about back talk?"

You make a sound close to a growl and glare at him. Your brain tries to formulate any words that wouldn't result in this kind of patronizing response, but none come to mind.

Originally, you had anticipated that if he caught you again, you'd be in for the punishment of a lifetime. But now, sitting here in his lap and staring into those brown eyes, you realize this is much more in tune with the Chris you've come to know over the last few months.

"You can act like you're not frustrated, baby, but I know you. I know how much you need some regular release," he teases.

"That's not why I'm upset!" you say, trying not to explode into a sobbing mess again.

This was the point in your arguments where you usually broke down. He acted so confident in his assertions that you felt like the ground on which you stood to defend your own crumbled beneath you. It was easier to just give in sometimes, but that fact just agitated you even more.

More tears well in your eyes while the words rising in your throat start to tangle into an angry, ugly mess. But before you get the chance to burst, he jumps in, hushing and cooing.

"I know, honey. I know it's not the only reason. I'm sure you have some other things bothering you," he reassures, "But I'm just saying, it doesn't help that my poor, sick baby hasn't been able to cum in a week, hm?"

You want to scream in his face and claw his throat out, but instead, your forehead drops against his shoulder. You're so fucking tired in every possible way. You're tired from this illness beating down on every one of your cells. You're tired of the way he reduces all your feelings down to silly little complaints. And you're tired because you actually haven't been able to cum in a week, but that doesn't make him right or everything else invalid.

His question receives no answer, but that's good enough for him. With your head down, you can't see the smile spreading on his face. The only hint of his satisfaction you get is the hand rubbing up and down your back.

"It's ok. I'm here. There's no need to be upset. We all make mistakes, sweet baby," he whispers.

You want to tell him that this wasn't a mistake. That the first time you left wasn't a mistake either. The greatest mistake you'd ever made in your life was giving him your number in the first place. But what's the point? All of that will be watered down to feverish words that you don't really mean.

Cynical numbness settles in your chest like a weight. For right now, you decide it would be in your best interest to just play along.

You nod and snake your arms around his body, pulling yourself closer.

"That's my good girl," he coos, "How bout I make you feel all better and then get you home and tucked in bed, warm and safe?"

You nod weakly, every word siphoning more of your energy away.

He pecks your heated forehead and slides his left hand down your body. His palm rubs over your side and hip, taking his time to reach the point of attraction. As much as you despise him, it still feels good in the moment. You take what you can get, in your constant stream of disappointments, you let him tending to you like this feel like a win.

His fingers tuck below the elastic band of your shorts. They slide down to your center, rubbing through the folds. He shifts you closer so you can rest against his chest.

"My poor baby," he croons for what feels like the billionth time, "You're so hot. We'll have to get you all cooled down at home."

You just nod again. For now, you'd just let your mind shut off while the pleasure coursed through your veins.

The tip of his middle finger twirls around your clit, circling the little bud to tease some arousal out of you. He knows just how to flick it, the perfect amount of pressure to get your toes curling.

Your legs tighten up a bit as the muted tingle blossoms into a deeper burn of desire. A little moan sounds from your mouth throughout the car. He smirks and slips his digits down through the collecting wetness.

With his fingers all slippery, he rubs them over your throbbing bundle of nerves. He works even more pretty noises out of you and amps up the feeling in your belly.

"This is just what you needed, I should've known," he whispers, "Your silly little head doesn't know what to do when it gets all frustrated. So many thoughts and no relief."

You whimper and bite your lip. Even though you're letting it happen, humiliation still has its barbs in your lungs. You turn your face against his shoulder, hiding the way it scrunches against the fabric of his shirt.

Oftentimes, he'd make you look at him again, but tonight, he allows the difference. His fingers keep toying with your clit, rubbing it in tight tiny circles.

"'m not gonna stick my fingers in you right now. Think that's too much for my sick baby," he informs you, as if you had asked for anymore.

This was fine. You can't remember the last time you actually craved more from Chris. He was so attentive nowadays, his presence and care often felt smothering.

You don't rock your hips or move at all beyond a few involuntary squirms. There wasn't really any room for it. Moaning was embarrassing enough, you didn't want your ass to accidentally honk the horn or something. That and he's doing more than enough to get you there by himself. You can already feel the start of your finish beginning to take root.

Your noises grow higher pitched, more muffled too because you press your face into his shoulder hard. The thick fabric of his sweater works well as a self-imposed gag.

"You're so cute," he coos, "My needy little baby. You're gonna sleep good tonight."

You whine in response. Your body tenses up in his lap as you suck in a few harsh breaths. The edge was right around the corner.

"Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me. You can do it," he whispers.

Your fingers clutch the fabric at his back so hard it's in danger of tearing. Now your hips buck a little as you reach the finish line. They jerk back and forth but press more into his stomach rather than the wheel behind you.

Tremors rack through you, making you quiver violently in his grasp. You cling to him for a sense of stability, and that brings him pleasure almost as great as any you're experiencing.

As you start to come down, you feel like your body is melting on top of his. He holds you there in his lap for a few minutes after, rubbing your back and kissing your head.

When he deems you calm enough, he boosts you up and situates you in the passenger's seat. He strokes your head before buckling you up.

"We'll get you a change of clothes before you go to bed. I know those pretty panties are soaked through," he says and pinches your cheek.

#chris redfield x reader #chris redfield smut #chris redfield imagine #chris redfield x you #yandere!chris redfield #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut #resident evil x you

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gurugirl · 1 year ago

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A Good Boy | 1. Surrender

Summary: Harry's got the hots for his young stepmom and she's pretty fond of him too. But they're both trying really hard to be good. Loosely based on this ask.

A/N: This is stepmom!reader x virgin stepson!harry. There is a 7 year age gap and Harry met her at the age of 19. He is 21 in this story.

Word count: 21.4k words

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, inappropriate relationship between a stepmom & virgin stepson, smut

A Good Boy Masterlist

Her husband, Leonardo, was the kind of man that could only be described as a provider. Not a lover, not a sweet man, not a gentle soul. Just a provider. Her mother asked her why she was marrying the older man, “Y/n he’s 15 years your senior! It’s preposterous! He’s rich but you can find real love…” She’d heard it all. But she was interested in having nice things. Being able to finish her art and history degree and go to the tennis club and shop with her girlfriends.

He also bought her the cutest little red Mercedes and the biggest diamond ring. And his house was- well it wasn’t just a house. It was an estate sat in the Hollywood hills near other celebrities and affluent humans (or robots she sometimes thought). She even had her own bedroom. It was an odd setup for sure, but a setup nonetheless.

Leonardo made it clear. He wasn’t looking for love. He was looking for a pretty thing with a good head on her shoulders that he could fuck when he needed and buy nice things for. Someone to bring with him when he had to show face at events and parties who could hold a somewhat intelligent conversation. She could do that. And he wasn’t a bad-looking man either. He was fit and tall with a deep voice and his deep pockets were just the cherry on top.

Did this make her a gold digger? She supposed that yes, it did. But what of her husband? This was what he wanted too. No one was being tricked. Everything was very simple and clearly defined. Down to the fact that she could sleep with anyone she wanted as long as she was discreet and didn’t give him the details. The same went for Leo.

Though Y/n hadn’t been interested in sleeping with anyone else, she was certain Leo did on his business trips and “boys-only vacations” he often took with his friends.

Y/n wasn’t bothered by the lack of love or the fact that her marriage wasn’t conventional. She was getting everything she wanted and she was happy. Sure a little intimacy was nice but she had close friends and so far, that was all she needed.

. . .

“Leo! Marla is here with the Uber! I’ll see you later!” She shouted toward his study as she made her way out the door. It was Friday night. Girl’s night. Every other Friday she, Marla, Cyndee, and Gina met at Murphy’s Lounge to dance and drink a few too many martinis. It was always fun. Sometimes she flirted with some man who wanted to dance. But never anything more. She could have if she wanted. More. She could have done more but she never felt the need. No one interested her enough to make that sort of leap into partaking in the open aspect of her marriage.

The bar was full, as it usually was at 8 pm on a Friday night. Gina and Cyndee had already secured a table and had cocktails in hand when she and Marla got there.

And just like every time the four of them got together, they acted as if they hadn’t seen one another in ages. Sometimes they could be overly dramatic in their greetings but they genuinely appreciated one another.

“Okay. The first round is on me, but the rest is on Daddy Leo,” Cyndee bubbled out her words in laughter.

Y/n playfully smacked Cyndee’s arm, “Oh so now you’re calling my husband Daddy?!” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, I am. He’s a Daddy, Y/n. Like, there’s no way you don’t call him Daddy when-“

Y/n placed her hand over Cyndee’s mouth, “Oh my god you’re too much sometimes! No more talk of Leo! The rest of the drinks are on him and we’ll leave it at that,” she laughed.

That was usually how it went. Leonardo picked up their girl’s night tab and paid for their taxis or Ubers.

“Okay. We’re just gonna get our drinks and we’ll be right back.” Marla swept Y/n off to the bar so they could order their usual drinks. For Y/n it was a nice stiff lemon drop martini.

Marla ordered a whisky sour, with extra orange slices and then rambled on about Ryan, her on-again, off-again boyfriend. They were on again at that moment but she was wearing thin, once again.

“Why do you do it to yourself, Marla? If you want to be done then just be done. You’ve tried and it hasn’t worked. I feel like you could do better anyway. Ryan’s nice but I think you two have run your course.”

“Ughh… I know, Y/n. God do I know. Easier said than done. There’s so much history, and friends in common. And we have a fucking dog together! I just… I don’t know.”

The bartender handed them their drinks and then Y/n gave the guy her credit card, “Please put this card in place of Cyndee Daniels tab. We’ll use this one instead.”

Josh was the bartender that evening. A cute college-aged young man with a bright smile who always remembered her name.

“Of course, Ms. Y/n. Will swap these out. As usual.” He winked.

She leaned over the bar as she took a quick sip of her martini while Josh went to retrieve Cyndee’s card. She looked down the bar at the faces of other patrons and suddenly was met with the clear green eyes of Leo’s son, Harry. Her stepson. She wasn’t sure if he’d seen her and it wasn’t as if Y/n had done anything wrong but she just hadn’t expected to see him there.

She leaned up again, peering around the woman sitting on the stool to her left and her eyes landed on the young man. Freshly shorn dark curls and a soft pink smile crooked up as he spoke animatedly to the guy sitting next to him. And just as she assumed he hadn’t seen her he turned and looked at her squarely, his lips moving as he spoke something to his friend then nodding in acknowledgment at Y/n before pulling himself off the stool he was on and making his way across the bar to her.

“Is that Harry?” Marla spoke as she leaned in.

“Yes, it is.”

Harry was a nice young man. He was polite, sometimes overly polite she thought, and he was charming. Y/n liked Harry. She didn’t know him all that well. He lived on campus at the university so she saw him rarely. But she did recognize that he’d cut his hair. He had long dark curls when she first met him. He looked like a bad boy, covered in tattoos with a permanent smirk on his face. But once she got to talking to him, she realized, he was a big sweetheart really. The long dark hair and tattoos were just a look. A style. Harry was a nice young man.

The truth was, all the girls joked about how attractive Leo and his son were. Both men were quite handsome. Y/n couldn’t deny that. Harry was tall like his father and built nicely. Long legs and a well-muscled chest. A great jawline and crystal green eyes that allured.

“Hi, Y/n. Marla,” Harry spoke as he looked from Y/n to Marla.

And that was another thing about him. He always remembered everyone’s name. He had met Marla maybe twice, yet here he was drinking beers at a bar and remembering the name of Y/n’s best friend whom he barely knew.

“Hi Harry,” Y/n smiled up at him, “Like the hair,” She reached up and whisked a finger into a short curl before bringing her hand back down into her own space.

Harry smiled broadly, a glorious dimple digging into his cheek as he raised an arm and ran his long fingers through his soft dark hair, “Oh! Yeah. Thank you. Got it cut a few weeks ago. Still getting used to it. Um, how are you doing?”

“Good. Girl’s Night, you know,” she shrugged and looked over at Marla who stood next to her, “We’re here every other Friday for some dancing and drinks,” when she turned her gaze back to Harry’s his soft eyes were intently watching her as she spoke. “Um, yeah. How are you? How’s school?”

Harry tipped himself forward to his toes and then lowered back down to his normal height, “Good. S’good. Already looking forward to Spring break,” he chuckled.

“Oh yeah! Me too. I’m not even in school anymore and I’m already making plans,” she chuckled.

Suddenly something dawned on Y/n. Her eyes went wide and then she squinted as she looked at her stepson, “Wait. You’re not 21. You’re too young to be here, Mister.”

Harry snorted a laugh and nodded, “I know. I know. But I’m turning 21 in two weeks. Figured I’d try out my fake ID once in my life. Before it’s too late,” he grinned.

“So you’ve never done this before?”

“Nope. First time. And of course, my stepmom is here when I do. Just my luck.”

Y/n laughed and her smile almost hurt her cheeks it was so wide.

A small jab to her side reminded her that Marla was still standing there, “Oh, sorry. Yeah. We should be heading back. We’re just over there if you want to stop by and say hi to the girls.” She pointed to the table where Cyndee and Gina were already watching the scene.

“Sure. Yeah. Of course. Um, it was really nice to see you, Marla,” Harry smiled gently at her and then looked back down to Y/n, “I’ll come by and say hi before I leave.”

The moment Y/n got to the table Cyndee pulled her arm, “Your stepson. Oof. He’s really attractive. Have you and him ever… you know?” She joked. Of course, Cyndee knew better.

“Oh stop it! Of course not! He’s a 20-year-old kid!” Y/n spoke in exasperation.

“You’re only 27, Y/n. You’re not much older. In fact, you’re closer to his age than you are to Leo’s,” Gina said.

Now Gina was usually the voice of reason so to have her on Cyndee’s side was ludicrous. Of course, she knew Cyndee was teasing but still.

Y/n took her seat and rolled her eyes as she took a healthy gulp of her sweet and tangy martini.

“And his haircut. God, he’s adorable like that. Damn,” Marla spoke next to her.

The music eventually began to grow louder and the martinis were going down far too easily. Especially after dancing and working up a sweat away from her seat. But one thing that didn’t change through the night was that her eyes kept finding Harry’s. It was like she couldn’t stop glancing over at him. But it didn’t help that every time she dared to peek he was looking at her already.

She couldn’t be sure that he was watching her dance but there was something about just the idea that he might be that had her swaying her hips a little more sensuously and using her hands to rub down her body like she was some kind of sexpot. But in truth, her dance moves were definitely subpar. But three martinis will tend to make one feel unnecessarily bold.

Y/n decided on just one more drink. A fourth martini to round out the night, plus she wanted to walk up to the bar near Harry and talk to him a little bit more. Just a friendly little tease about how he was only sitting and not dancing. Even his friend had gotten off the stool and danced with a young woman on the dance floor for a bit.

“You’re not really making the most of this special night, Harry,” she elbowed at his arm gently as she leaned over the bar to wave at Josh.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s eyes were a little red and he was quite obviously a little drunk.

She looked down at his wetted lips and back up to his pretty eyes, “You’re not even dancing. Just sitting here like a lump drinking beer after beer.”

“Ms. Y/n, another lemon drop?” Josh spoke as he put his hands on the bar top in front of her.

“Yes, please, Josh, and close it out too. I think all the girls are done for the night.” She laughed.

She turned back to look at Harry, “So no girls here you want to dance with? Even your buddy got out there a little bit. Where is he by the way?”

Harry turned around and looked over his shoulder for his friend and shrugged, “Maybe shagging in the bathroom. Haven’t seen him in a while now that I think of it. And no. No girls here I want to dance with.”

Y/n pouted and tilted her head as she reached up to touch his hair again, “I’ve seen a bunch of pretty girls around your age here, Harry. Some even checking you out. You should get out there and dance a little. Really fully experience Murphy’s Lounge,” she looked over her shoulder and then leaned in to speak quietly, “It’s your last chance with your fake ID,” she smiled as she tugged his curl the smallest bit.

Harry smirked, “Child abuse!” Craning his neck away from her fingers, he patted at his hair as if the tiny tug had hurt.

She rolled her eyes as Josh returned with the drink and her card, “See you in a couple weeks.” He smiled at her before returning to the other customers.

Harry’s features became serious again, “You know him?”

Y/n sipped her martini and nodded, “Yeah. We’re here often enough. So, yeah.” She shrugged keeping her eyes on her adorable stepson. Okay, maybe it was more like adorably handsome stepson, but still.

“Come. I’m gonna put this away,” she lifted her card upward as she motioned him to follow her, “And you and I are going out there to dance a little. We’ll find you someone cute to groove with a little.”

She expected Harry to protest a bit but he didn’t. He stepped in behind her and followed her to her table with his beer in hand. He stayed close to her as she bent down to slip her credit card into her purse. The security in the room always watched their table so no one took their things or tampered with their drinks (and the nice little tip Y/n, by way of Leo, didn’t hurt either).

“Leave your beer here. We’re gonna need our hands free!” she giggled as she pointed at the table.

“You’re okay to leave your drinks out like this? Thought that was a big no-no.”

Y/n looked in the direction of the man standing a few feet away, “He’s watching over the table. Now come on!”

The floor was packed with warm bodies moving and gyrating. The music was loud and the rhythmic base could be felt underfoot. She’d long lost sight of the girls as she began to sway and raise her arms upward.

Harry stayed close to his stepmom’s side and shuffled around a bit. His body was a bit stiff but he laughed when Y/n grabbed his hands and made him spin, “Loosen up a bit! Come on, Harry!”

Rolling his eyes he grinned and began to dramatically move about, trying to feel the beat and push down how awkward his movements felt.

Y/n kept her hands on his to encourage him to move with her and they both laughed as Harry began to relax into it a bit. His big smile only widened as the song was switched up to something that felt quite naughty and suggestive.

She released his hands because it felt like he was getting the hang of it. Not to mention she was beginning to enjoy the way his big hands fit around hers. And that couldn’t happen.

She turned around and continued swinging her hips and, moving with the rhythm as best she could. Long moments went by and she closed her eyes and allowed herself to get back into the swing of dancing and feeling the freedom and excitement of her night.

A hand pulled at her hip from behind and she opened her eyes and turned to see her stepson towering over her from behind. She hadn’t expected the sudden grip he had on her so she turned in confusion causing his palm to fall away. Harry looked over her shoulder and then dipped down to speak into her ear, “A man came over and was just about to try something with you. Wanted to discourage him a bit. Sorry.”

Y/n followed where he was looking and there was indeed a man there looking at her. And it wouldn’t have been too out of the ordinary for this to happen. She dealt with these things well usually. Sometimes she’d dance a little and flirt a little but that was it. It didn’t bother her. It was all in fun.

She chuckled and pulled at Harry’s shoulder to speak in his ear, “You don’t have to worry about me, Harry. I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl. But thank you.”

Harry licked his lips and turned his face toward her to speak, “I know you’re all grown up. Just didn’t want to see that with my own eyes is all.” His words were spoken close to her ear, his deep baritone vibrating from her neck and over her ear as she turned to look at him, only he didn’t move his face away and their gazes connected for a moment longer than felt innocent.

She swallowed and a small smile plucked upward on her lips, “Okay. Do you want to stay close then? Protect from the predators while I dance?” Her smile widened and she laughed but Harry’s smirk felt like something just the opposite of funny as he looked down over her face and to her neck and then over her lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” his smirk remained as he shook his head and then in a surprise motion turned her around to face away and put both hands at her hips as they began dancing together.

She could feel his heat from behind her and his fingers held onto her hips possessively but she liked it. Especially when her hips moved to the beat and Harry’s hips moved behind her. He wasn’t pressing himself into her backside but she could feel him moving with her. He was keeping a polite distance. Though, everything that was happening was very inappropriate.

It was inappropriate because she liked it. Because this attractive young man behind her was looking at her in a way she noted was not innocent. Because she’d been obviously flirting with him at the bar. Because Harry was her stepson.

When the beat dropped low and the song slowed to something even more provocative and playful they both slowed and she felt Harry’s thumbs on the bit of skin exposed between the bottom hem of her blouse to just above her skirt’s waistline. His grasp on her skin was burning into her flesh, his fingers gently brushing and then squeezing at her.

“You’re not a bad dancer,” Harry remarked into her ear and she felt his chest press into her back.

And without thinking too deeply about it, or perhaps it was the martinis that left her so uninhibited, she dropped her head back and toward his mouth and felt his lips at her ear, “I’m a terrible dancer. But thank you anyway.” She laughed.

Harry chuckled into her ear, not backing away from how she’d leaned into him but instead pulling at her just enough that his fingers pinched her waist and she could feel him smile as he spoke against her ear, “Nothing about you is terrible, Y/n.”

His deep tone gave her a chill and goosebumps traveled down her neck and over her bare arms. Her good sense had been momentarily suspended as she smiled and dared to move her bottom into his hips.

When she heard his groan in her ear she closed her eyes and placed her hands over his, pressing his hands flat over her waist so she could feel his long fingers under hers, feel his warm palms digging into her skin.

“Better stop. I’m getting a little,” Harry suddenly backed off, his hands releasing her hips and she turned to look up at him as he ran a hand through his hair. He was flushed and his pupils were large, making his soft greens appear dark and heavy as he looked at her with an unmistakable glint of lust. She was sure she looked the same.

“Of course. Yeah. It was fun, though,” she smiled as she began to head back to the table. Harry followed.

They slid into the booth and took their drinks, letting the music of the bar fill in the gaps of their silence.

Y/n realized she was wet. She scolded herself inwardly. Her stepson was off-limits. Hell, to her most men were off limits because she was married (despite her open marriage). But especially Harry. She didn’t know if she should apologize or just let everything that had happened slip away without acknowledgment.

They were both drinking and so that had something to do with her behavior. With his. But mostly hers because she was the stepmom. She should have known better.

“Sorry we didn’t find you a cute girl to dance with,” she offered as she rounded her eyes and grinned, trying to make light of everything and ignore what had just happened between them.

Harry shook his head and looked down at his beer, then shifted his eyes to hers, “I think we did find me a cute girl to dance with,” he licked his lips and huffed a laugh shaking his head again as he lifted his beer.

“I’m done done done! Some guy bought me two shots. On top of the four cocktails I had. I’m fucked. I need to get out of here so I can crash into bed. You okay to leave with me?” Marla was suddenly plopping down at the table as she slurred her speech.

Y/n laughed, glad for the interruption. She wasn’t sure how to respond to Harry’s comment, “Yeah. We can get out of here. Where’s Gina and Cyndee?”

Marla pointed at the edge of the dance floor. Two men flanked them with drinks in hand.

“As you can see, they’re fine.”

Marla, Y/n, and Harry stopped by to say goodbye to Cyndee and Gina before leaving the loud bar. The night air was sobering as she used her Uber app to call for a taxi. Harry stayed with them, like the gentleman he was until their ride showed up.

Marla flung herself into the car as Y/n squeezed Harry’s arm, “Thanks, Harry. I’ll see you… I don’t know when, but this was fun! Yeah? Oh! It’ll probably be for your birthday, right? Party at our house. That’s right,” Y/n was mostly talking to herself. They were throwing him a party. Of course, it was going to be a big bash. Tons of college kids and family and drinking since he was turning 21.

Harry nodded, “Yeah. Weekend after next. Saturday. I think I’ll come over Friday night and stay the whole weekend.”

. . .

Harry had always liked Y/n. She was sweet to him from the start. Right off he could tell she wasn’t like Leonardo’s other girlfriends. He’d gone through a lot of them and when he decided he liked Y/n enough to keep around, Harry was genuinely happy about it. His dad was kind of cold and overly structured at times but he always took care of his family and Harry wouldn’t mind having Y/n around. He was 19 when he met her.

Harry’s mom left Leo when he was just a boy. She remarried years later and Harry hadn’t seen her so happy ever. He chalked it up to his dad’s standoffish behavior. He barely showed Harry, love, even. But It was okay for Harry that way. His mom was warm and raised him well. She showed him more love than he’d ever need in a lifetime. She made up where his dad lacked.

So for that, Harry did feel a bit sad, for Y/n, who had such a bright smile and contagious laugh, to marry such a cold creature as his father. The kind that his mother left. His friends joked that Y/n was a gold-digger and they urged him to try and mess around with her. See how far he could take it. But that was out of the question. Not because his stepmom wasn’t smoking hot, but because she was his stepmom. There was just so much wrong with that.

It did irk him, though, that he found her so pretty. But it wasn’t just that. She was smart too. She was easy to talk to and she could keep up with Harry’s little goofy jokes and she never took herself too seriously. Despite having her lips painted red and wearing high-fashion couture courtesy of Leonardo Styles, she was fun and kind.

Harry also benefited from his dad’s money, though. Just because he opted to live with his mother until college didn’t mean he didn’t have everything he wanted. A nice car, nice clothes, vacations with friends, concerts, sporting events, the newest cellphone. Leo didn’t bat an eye if Harry wanted something. And eventually even gave him a credit card to use for anything he wanted.

Yeah, Leo Styles was fucking wealthy. Dirty wealthy. The kind that people hate to see because it’s so excessive and unnecessary that it’s ugly.

But what could Harry do? His dad was a little cold and filthy rich. He didn’t control how his dad dealt with his money, though plenty of people also lumped Harry in with all that. Assumed he was some spoiled rotten brat who’d grow up like his father.

And that was just the thing, though. His dad wasn’t mean or bad per se. He was just rich because of the Styles’ family fortune. And he rarely showed any emotion. His dad did do nice things for the community and donated to good causes, threw fundraisers, and funded schools for children with special needs and gymnasiums for the local children who didn’t have a place to go and play freely.

And he wanted a wife that was smart and pretty. Someone with a brain who could handle a good conversation with grace. Harry understood the arrangement well. There was no love involved but it was a marriage of convenience for both of them. No harm, no foul. Harry didn’t mind it. Others seemed to have heavier opinions about it, though.

“Damn, Harry. You gotta do something about that. She keeps looking over here at you. While she looks like that? Let’s get your v-card taken care of once and for all.”

“Stop it, Jay. She’s my stepmom.”

“So? You told me yourself she’s just married to your dad for the money-“

“No, that’s not what I said. And it doesn’t matter what kind of thing she and my dad have going on. It’s not gonna happen.”

“God look at her. She’s fucking fine, Harry. She wants you too. I can tell. Look you don’t have to take my advice but this one,” he said as he gestured toward Y/n, “She’s a tiger in bed. I guarantee. Look at her move. Bet she could show you a thing or two.”

Harry shoved Jay and shook his head as he looked away before he was caught staring at his stepmom again.

She was hot. Her skirt was short and her little top kept riding up so he could get the tiniest peek of her waistline each time she raised her arms. Harry didn’t want to let his mind wander to those kinds of places. He’d already recognized how gorgeous she was. Liked her personality and how funny she was. If she were younger and not his stepmom, maybe. Maybe.

“Rebecca’s over there. I’m gonna go dance with her a bit. Sheila is too. You should come out and dance! Meet someone! Get laid!”

Harry sighed and sipped his beer as he leaned away from Jay’s arm, “No thanks.”

He did want to get laid of course. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have found a willing participant. It just hadn’t ever happened. He’d messed around a bit but in all honesty, Harry had a hard time wrapping his mind around a quick fling or something that was only sex. He liked connection and love. Wanted that whole thing with someone before getting to that point in the relationship. He knew it was silly to take it so seriously. And it wasn’t like keeping his virginity was his goal. It was just that he wanted it to be with someone special. Yeah, he was a bit of a sap like that.

But no one would know it really. That Harry was a big sap. A virgin at almost 21. Only his closest friends knew and they were sworn to secrecy. People assumed Harry had had lots of sex. That he was fucking people left and right. Because Harry was a flirt. He was super smooth and confident and charming. The kind of man people would imagine just had tons of sex. Plus he was incredibly attractive.

When Y/n was suddenly stood next to him at the bar, sweat at her hairline and soft lips with a cute smile as she spoke to him closely about how he was just sitting at the stool, not making the most of his first time in a bar with a fake ID, he felt his stomach twist. Maybe it was her scent, or the alcohol coursing through his veins, or the way she kept looking at him while she was dancing. Whatever it was, he knew he’d just moved into dangerous territory in his mind.

But she pulled at his hair and licked her lips and stood close so she could speak in his ear and he was easily convinced to finally get up and go dance with her.

Dancing wasn’t really a big deal to him. He wasn’t shy to dance. He honestly didn’t care all that much what people thought of him. He just didn’t want to get out there and dance while she was dancing like that. While she was looking at him in that way. Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her. Something had slipped out of its normal position for Harry that night. He was thinking of his stepmom in very inappropriate ways and he was powerless to stop the indecent thoughts he had about her body and her lips and her voice. It was so wrong.

When he turned her around and put his hands on her hips he allowed his fingers to wander over her skin to the very spot he’d been watching each time she lifted her arms. But this time he pushed the material up to give the pads of his fingers access. And she didn’t stop him.

Her hair smelled good and when he spoke against her ear she got goosebumps. Fucking goosebumps from his voice in her ear.

But then the unthinkable happened and she pressed herself into his front. And luckily she was just off to the left a bit because had she been to the right another inch or so she’d have felt him. He was thick under his dark jeans and it was because of his stepmom.

Her skin and her lips and her hair and the way she smelled and reacted to him. But he had to stop. He backed away knowing that it was the smart move. Hating that it was the smart move.

He came down the shower drain imagining Y/n on her knees with his cock down her throat, gagging and urging him to go in deeper that night after the bar. He closed his eyes and yanked himself and he orgasmed so embarrassingly fast to the image of her. His stepmom. That was the first time he’d masturbated to Y/n’s image. And it felt dirty. It felt forbidden and disgusting.

But then he did it again the following evening in his bed. He was thankful for having his own room in the frat house. Stroking his cock as his thighs quivered and his head was thrown back into the pillow under him, imagining Y/n riding his cock and showing him what she liked had him gasping as he came all over himself.

He tried to move on and get things back to normal in his brain about her. The way they were before that night at the bar. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Part of that was because of how she responded to him, flirted with him. The way she was looking at him and how she danced with him. He knew he didn’t imagine it. She was into it. And now that he knew that… well, the result left Harry tugging one out to his stepmom every night thereafter.

. . .

The party was going to be big. Leonardo told Harry to invite everyone he wanted. And of course, he and Y/n invited their friends too.

There was a DJ, a catering staff with bartenders and lots of presents.

Y/n was helping with the setup. Friday was busy for her, the day before the party. She’d almost forgotten about Harry mentioning he’d be coming on Friday to stay the whole weekend. Almost.

In fact, she hadn’t forgotten at all. She tried pushing that memory down but it was still there, underneath everything. Her nerves were wild as she helped direct some of the landscapers and people bringing gifts in from the guests. Tables and chairs, and a dance floor laid near the area where the DJ would be set up. Speakers were placed all over the estate so music could be heard no matter where anyone was.

She was in sweat shorts and a tank top and tennis shoes with no makeup. She had wanted to shower and get freshened up a little at least. Before Harry arrived. Though, she wasn’t entirely sure he actually would come that evening as he said.

But then she laughed at herself worrying so much over how she looked to her stepson. A silly silly girl, she thought to herself. Who cares? Why should she care? She was doing all this for his birthday party anyway. And she was his stepmom.

Looking down at the placement of the dance floor tiles being installed she allowed her mind to drift to that night at the club. His warm skin, his deep voice. The way he handled her like he knew what he was doing… She hated that she had been allowing those kinds of thoughts to trickle in about him. Hated, hated that two days ago when she had sex with Leo it was Harry she was thinking about.

She felt like a nasty and disgusting woman. A pervert.

In the early afternoon, the landscapers had gone and the garden looked like it was ready to be filled in with hundreds of people ready to party. She was proud of the way it turned out. It all looked great.

But she was hungry. She’d eat then shower. Hopefully, before Harry arrived. If he arrived that evening.

The chef’s kitchen had a lovely granite island with unstained walnut and wide plank hardwood floors. The refrigerator was ridiculously large. Opening up the state-of-the-art appliance she peered inside trying to find something quick to eat. She planned on having cheese tortellini later on. Leo was out for the day and told her not to wait up. That he would be back late. Some conference or something. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be gone for hours or days. She enjoyed the quiet and loved to eat simple dishes when he wasn’t around. Things that she craved like macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, or cheesy tortellini, and a bottle of wine.

She settled on yogurt and a double serving of granola as she sat at the island. She just needed an in-between lunch and dinner snack to tide her over.

Just before she scooped her last bite into her mouth she heard footsteps and then his voice, “Anyone home?”

She quickly scrambled off her stool and stood up just as he entered the kitchen. His dark curls were perfectly placed on his head and he wore a colorful Hawaiian-style shirt and black jeans with leather Chelsea boots.

“Hi! Yeah, was just eating a snack. Uh, make yourself at home, Harry!” Her tone was a bit too perky and she cringed at how silly she sounded.

Harry smiled gently and nodded as he dropped his gaze to her legs and back up, “Yes ma’am. Just gonna take this up to my room first.” He lifted his duffle bag, “Looks really good out there,” gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder, “Looking forward to it.”

“Oh, so glad you like it. It was some work to get everything just right. The guys setting up were so great, though. There are still a few more things to finish up tomorrow but I think for now we’re on track. But um…” she walked to the sink to rinse her bowl out as she looked over her shoulder at Harry, “I’m, uh… just headed to take a shower, though. Haven’t had the chance yet today. So…” she trailed off her sentence. None of what she was saying mattered to him at all. She was sure of that.

Harry puffed out a quick little laugh, “Okay. Yeah. Well, I’ll be in my room.”

Her shower was delightful but her nerves weren’t soothed. She was wound up tight and now that her stepson was here in her house, alone with her… she closed her eyes to compose herself. A ridiculous woman. A dirty and perverted creep. Who thinks of their stepson in this way? It’s absolutely disgusting. Immoral. Depraved. Evil. But it had all begun with that night and the way he danced with her. Innocent. Until it wasn’t.

She stayed in her room for a while. Not sure how she should go about acting casually in front of Harry. After that night at the bar, how could she? They had crossed a line. She had crossed a line. She took responsibility for this whole mess in her mind. She was the one at fault. Harry was only 20. Well, 21 now. Technically his birthday was today.

Fuck! She’d forgotten to wish him happy birthday!

Pulling her leggings up and slipping on a t-shirt she huffed as she paced the room. Well, now she had to go and tell him and also apologize for the state she was in when he arrived and how she’d forgotten and…

Calm down. He probably doesn’t even care, Y/n.

Knocking at his cracked-open bedroom door she peeked in to see that Harry wasn’t in there. She looked down the hallway and for some strange reason she stepped into his room and her eyes landed on his laptop that was open.

Porn.

He was watching porn. Y/n let out a surprised laugh and shook her head. She was overstepping so many boundaries. She looked at the screen as she moved away, intending on leaving his bedroom and going to find him when her eyes landed on the title of the video he had up.

Stepmom and Stepson Share a Bed

Her pulse grew fast and her palms began to sweat. Of course, perhaps that meant nothing. Perhaps that was just something he was watching that he found hot and didn’t realize it was stepmom porn or something…

She backed herself out of the room quickly but when she felt his hands on her shoulders and his voice, that fucking voice that sounded like sex, “You okay? Nearly ran me over-“

But he stopped short, a sharp inhaled breath into his lungs cutting off his words. He looked at the bed where his laptop was open and realized what she’d seen. He’d been saving his favorite stepmom porn videos lately. This one was just up. He wasn’t actually watching it before he’d stepped out of the room. It had just been on the screen when he closed out the Word doc he was working on for an essay at school.

“Fuck.” He whispered and released her shoulders, “Y/n, I… look that was just-“

Y/n turned with wide eyes and held her hand up quickly, “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have come in here. I was looking for you to um… I was gonna wish you a happy birthday, and I… I’m the one that should be sorry. That…” she pointed toward his bed, “I shouldn’t have seen that.”

Harry was embarrassed. He felt like crawling under the bed and staying there til the day he died. Never to be seen or heard from again. He was so careless to leave that up like that.

He swallowed and ran his hands over his face and shook his head, “Oh my god. Fuck.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Y/n placed her hand on his forearm and pulled one of his arms down, “Look at me.”

Harry opened his eyes and looked at her like she asked, “No worries okay? That was just nothing. It’s just porn. Everyone looks at porn. It’s normal. Okay?”

“Watching stepmom porn is normal?”

Y/n swallowed. She didn’t think he’d directly come out and say that, “Well… I mean… sure. If there’s a category on Pornhub for it that means someone likes it. You’re not the only one.” She tried to laugh but it died in her throat when Harry clenched his jaw and tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling.

“And besides,” her fingers tightened over his arm, causing him to look back down at her, “it’s not like that’s about me anyway. Come on… it’s just porn. So don’t-“

“Of course, it’s about you, Y/n. Why else would I be interested in that kind of thing?”

She let go of his arm and she felt like she could faint. She grasped onto the door jamb and wobbled as she looked down at her feet to steady herself and then back up at Harry.

“Are you okay? Here, let’s sit.” Harry took her arm from the door jamb and slowly guided her to her sit down on his bed where he promptly shut his laptop and moved the forsaken thing away from them, hidden from view.

“I’m okay,” she put her hands up and blinked her eyes as she turned to look at Harry next to her on the bed. “I didn’t expect that is all. That it had anything to do with- I just…”

“But that night at the club. That was… well… haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I know that’s inappropriate.”

Y/n bit her bottom lip and nodded before taking a deep breath, “Yeah. I guess. Me too.”

“You too? What?”

She turned to look at his verdant crystal eyes, “I can’t stop thinking about it. And it is inappropriate. And I take all the blame. It was my fault that it even got as far as it did. I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry shushed her and took her hand, “No. Don’t be sorry. This isn’t just on you. I’m an adult too, Y/n. This is on me just as much. So, I’m sorry. I feel like I probably pushed it that night. I was the one that touched you and made up that story about that guy.”

She recollected that night and the short conversation they had about the guy that was trying to dance with her when Harry had put his hand on her hip. The man was looking at her so she thought what he said was true. She hadn’t even questioned it, “You mean that man… that he wasn’t… you did…” she couldn’t finish her thought. It was. A lot. That revelation felt dense with just enough muscle to peel away some kind of layer of wool that had been placed securely over the situation in safety.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, Y/n. I don’t know what got into me that night. I really didn’t mean for any of this- It’s… my fault. I started it. I’m really sorry.”

She felt like they were somewhat on even ground now. He’d done that. She wouldn’t absolve herself of blame. No, not at all. She was still the heavy in this situation. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel exonerated by his admission. She was seven years older and his stepmom. She was ultimately to blame.

“God, Harry. Please. I’m…” she paused. His gaze on hers was hard to break. His soft mint eyes made him appear so pure and blameless. But then his deep raspberry lips, darkly pigmented against his face were seductive. Harry was like a siren. An enchanter. He was beautiful.

“No. You’re… amazing and I’ve just gone too far. It’s okay. This is silly,” he laughed and disconnected their eye contact as he looked downward, “This is-“ he looked back up at her and felt his heart thrum hard in his ribs, “silly.” His last word, just a whisper. A word he didn’t believe.

She shook her head, keeping her eyes on his, “And you surely have other options anyway. It’s just a phase. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to pick from. The charmer you are,” she chuckled lightly trying to lighten the mood and suggest it was temporary. That he could be with any young college girl he wanted. Probably had someone lined up for his birthday party even.

Harry’s brows cinched together and he shook his head, “No. I don’t. You don’t know this about me but… I’m actually…” he sighed and looked upward not wanting to see her expression when he told her, “virgin.”

That was not what she expected. Not at all. First of all, Harry Styles was beautiful. He was a sight! A paragon on legs with a gorgeously calming voice and the sweetest disposition anyone could ever dream of. He was perfection if there ever was such a thing. His beauty went before him but his grace and kindness were what made him so appealing. So utterly attractive. How was it that this astonishingly amazing man, absolutely as nice as anyone could ever be, was a virgin? Not to mention he had his dad’s money at the helm. There was nothing about Harry that wouldn’t get him laid in an instant.

“Virgin? Seriously?” She stuttered, “Umm… but not that there’s anything wrong with that…” She almost didn’t believe him as she asked. They’d never discussed this of course, but in her mind, it was quite impossible that he had never had sex.

“It’s true. Yeah. S’embarrassing but I really want it with… not just anyone. I don’t know. It’s not like I haven’t done anything… but I’m not like I’m sleeping with whomever I can.”

Y/n nodded. She got it. As a female that was a conundrum she had as well.

Well, it was slightly different but the basics of why she didn’t just go and sleep with anyone was the same when she was his age. It was because she felt deeply about things. Wanted it to mean something. It didn’t always after she learned that others didn’t feel the same way she did. She learned that getting hurt was sometimes part of relationships. Part of sex. As sad as that was.

“Oh.” She smiled at him and spoke softly, “That’s how I used to feel too. Thought it should be special. But then when I thought it was going to be, the guy didn’t care so it turned out it was only special for me. I realized it didn’t really matter what I wanted. I can’t control what everyone around me wants.”

Harry felt his heart pinch at her words. That wasn’t fair. And that was exactly what had him so worried. That he would give it his all only to have the other person feel as if it was nothing important. Just a moment in time.

But it was a big moment in time. It should mean something. Both people should feel its presence and its significance.

They remained silent for a moment as Harry threaded his fingers in between Y/n’s and licked his lips, “Are we alone?”

She turned her head to look at the man. The whole scenario was unbelievable to her. They’d both admitted attraction and that they’d overstepped boundaries. They also both felt bad about it all. But what did that mean? Did that mean she should just stand up and tell him not to worry about it and not to bring it up ever again? Tell him she won’t say anything if he doesn’t say anything? Give him a hug and a pat on the back?

Yes. That is exactly what she should do.

Unhooking her fingers from his she leaned in and hugged him before standing up from his bed, “Your dad will be home late. So, it’s probably better if I go downstairs and do something to keep me busy. This,” she moved her fingers to point at him and then herself, “we can just chalk up to some bad timing and hormones or whatever. Don’t worry about it. I think it’ll be better for us to just pretend it never happened.”

Harry stood up abruptly, his height overtaking Y/n’s significantly with how close he stood, “Just like that? Just forget that we both said those things?”

She took a step back as she kept her eyes on his, “Yeah. Don’t you think that’s for the best? I mean, Harry… I’m your stepmom.”

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and frowned as he put his hands on his hips and moved away from the bed. He walked toward his door and turned back, “You can forget it and pretend it never happened if you like. I won’t be, though. I’m not going to say anything but I’m not going to pretend this didn’t happen either.”

Her heart dropped. She hoped he’d just brush it all off and try to move on. That was the best way to go about all of this. It’s not like they could have some kind of affair anyway. He was too young and his dad was her husband. It would be crazy to do such a thing.

“I mean… what did you want here? I feel like moving on is the best thing for both of us.”

Harry breathed out an incredulous laugh and shook his head, “I don’t know. Honestly. Thought…” he looked down at his shoes, “No one needed to know. No one would know.”

“No one needed to know what?”

Harry lifted his gaze up to Y/n’s, “If we… kissed or… anything. It would be easy. Dad’s never home. And you’re so-“ he blinked his eyes and she watched as he honed in on the spot where her breasts were under her t-shirt. She hadn’t put a bra on before slipping the shirt on in her haste to wish him a happy birthday, “Kind and patient. Feel like that would be really nice.”

She felt like her jaw was on the floor. Felt like that would be really nice. She couldn’t argue that. It would be really nice. A man with a warm heart in her bed. Someone she could show what she wanted without worry that he’d be offended. A man that looked like Harry. Young and with all that stamina. She imagined that he probably would want it a lot, especially now that she knew he was a virgin. That he’s been so neglected and that the moment he got a taste of it he’d never want to stop…

She shook her head before she allowed her mind to go too far into that hole, “We can’t, Harry. You understand that right,” she bit her lip. She wanted to grab him by his hips and smear her mouth over his as she pushed him into his bed and had them reenact the stepmom and stepson share a bed porno he had up on his laptop.

Harry nodded, his face set in an unreadable expression, “Of course, Y/n. I wouldn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want. I’m sorry.”

She hated that he kept saying sorry. That he felt bad for any of this when it was on her as well, “Please, Harry. Stop saying you’re sorry. You’re not to blame. I just think we should keep level heads here. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

His breathing deepened so much that Y/n could see the way his chest rose and fell under his shirt. She noted his gaze taking her in, not just her eyes, but her lips and her neck, her hips where the shirt stopped and her leggings showed under, “Oh… Y/n…” he shook his head, “I’ve definitely not been innocent. If my porn history isn’t enough to apologize for then my dirty thoughts surely are. You’d certainly agree that I should be apologizing if you knew the sorts of things I fantasize about with you.”

Y/n looked down. She couldn’t take his saturating gaze and these admissions any longer, “I don’t know why you’re telling me this. It’s okay that it’s private and as long as it’s not acted on… you shouldn’t feel bad.”

“Of course.” Harry gestured toward the hallway as he looked at Y/n. There was nothing more to be said on the matter. Harry knew she was right.

She nodded as she exited his room and heard him close the door behind her as she stepped out into the hallway. All she wanted to do was to tell him happy birthday. But instead, she left confused and frustrated and far more guilty than she had been before. She had no idea how to navigate this. But she only knew that no one could know their secret.

. . .

The caterers arrived before everyone else to get things set up. Small little aluminum warmers lit to keep the food warm. The bar was set up with a washing station and glassware (none of that plastic stuff Leo had said). The sound equipment was tested. Everything was going to be amazing, Y/n thought. For Harry’s 21st birthday party, this was surely going to be a great time.

She hadn’t seen Harry after their encounter in his bedroom the day before. He’d been quiet the rest of the evening. He didn’t even come down to eat.

Leo arrived home just after midnight and today he was working a little, tying up loose ends for something Y/n didn’t bother to pay attention to. Her mind was elsewhere anyway. Her thoughts kept wandering to Harry. Was he okay? Certainly, he wouldn’t be too upset. They hadn’t even really done anything. And they shouldn’t! Plus he was so young and he would have plenty of time to find someone special. She couldn’t be that for him. Certainly not.

Just before she’d had the chance to run upstairs to her room to get her party outfit in order she caught a glimpse of Harry as he was leaving the kitchen. His dark curls were messy. He looked like he had just gotten up.

She laughed to herself. A typical 21-year-old. Sleeping half the day away so he could stay up late and party with his friends tonight. She felt like that was a good sign.

Her dress was modest and what she deemed appropriate. She had originally selected something different for the party, but after her talk with Harry the night before, she went a more conservative route. Perhaps he’d ignore her when he saw the other pretty girls his age that he knew at the party. She hoped there would be someone else that caught his eye. Someone that could make him forget all about whatever it was that happened between them.

She pulled her hair into a low bun, smoothing the bits that always tended to poke out from a sleek do. It was easy to keep her hair this way. And it was more mature too she felt. Rather than keeping her hair down in styled waves or curls, the low bun was a nod to her stage in life. The married woman with a stepson stage.

She decided to not wear perfume or lipstick either. She wanted to do anything she could to fade into the background for the party. She’d be running around anyway, at the beck and call of the people working the party should they need anything. She knew it was probably unnecessary as the people they’d hired were all professionals and some of the best in the industry. But she felt she would need to keep herself busy.

The first to arrive were Leo’s parents (Harry’s grandparents) and then Harry’s mom, Anne. Anne had been around a lot for the last few days helping Y/n get everything sorted. Y/n was actually quite fond of Anne. Harry’s mother was a saint. She loved that her relationship with Leo’s ex was so good.

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Anne smiled as she backed away from the hug Y/n had given her.

“Oh! I think he might still be getting ready. I believe he slept in late. Saw the back of his head about an hour ago and he appeared to be half asleep,” Y/n laughed.

As more of the guests arrived, Y/n noted the young women and men Harry had invited. Plenty of attractive and exciting college kids.

The music was started and drinks were being served but she still had not seen Harry. Nor Leo for that matter (though she wasn’t surprised to have not seen Leo – probably absorbed in his work).

Going inside and tiptoeing her way up toward Harry’s bedroom to urge him to come out and join his own party she found that his door was closed. She applied two knocks to the wood as she put her ear in close to hear anything.

When it was silent and the door didn’t open, she knocked again. Harder, “Harry? You in there? Party’s getting started without you!”

Suddenly the door was pulled open and before her was her stepson looking like he was ready to kill. Not kill in the way that was violent, but kill with his looks. Kill with the way he’d dressed and left half his buttons undone at the top, a sheer milky white shirt with cream embroidered flowers draping away from his chest and allowing peeks of his tattoos. Black, well-fitted jeans and black Chelsea boots. His signature cross necklace hung between his pecs.

“Wanted to be fashionably late. You know… birthday boy and all,” he raised his brows unamused at Y/n and she felt the condescension drip from his words, “After you… step mummy,” he gestured for her to lead the way.

She was stunned by his tiny attitude. It wasn’t much. He hadn’t been particularly rude but his tone and his cheek were new. He was normally very polite with her. Very sweet and all smiles.

She nodded as she began to head down the stairs, Harry behind her. The moment they walked out to the garden Harry headed in a direction away from her. Without a word. But that was good. He should go and have fun with his friends.

Y/n had invited Marla to the party, which she was thankful for. Marla kept her mind off the tall young man of the hour.

“I can never get over how fantastic this place is. And look at all this,” Marla waved her wine glass above her head as she gestured toward the decorations, “This looks magical! When I fall in love and get married, can I have my wedding here?”

“You have to find the right man first. Ryan’s not it.” They laughed together.

Y/n wasn’t nearly as busy as she thought she’d be. As she hoped she’d be. She drank a few glasses of wine and checked on the guests but Anne had most things under control as did the staff that were taking care of everything.

She kept wishing she had more to do because her eyes kept searching for Harry. She spotted him over and over again. He was drinking whisky, with his friends laughing, and of course, there was one girl he was talking to.

She scolded herself at the touch of jealousy she felt. The girl was Harry’s age. Lovely young thing. But when she saw just the two of them talking as Harry had a hand flat on the bench behind the girl she hated how close they were standing. How flirty he looked. She especially didn’t like that the girl would reach out for his buttons and pluck at them every so often.

But why should she be jealous? He was a 21-year-old guy and he was her stepson. It was quite silly to feel anything other than happiness for him.

The cherry on top was after Leo gave his speech and everyone toasted and then the DJ began to play house music. The dance floor was packed and Y/n watched on as Harry and the young girl danced together, much in the same way he’d danced with her two weeks prior. His lanky body moved behind hers, his hand at her hip, his face close to her ear as he said god-knows-what to her.

She wanted to go out and dance too. There was no reason for her to not dance. Just because Harry was out there, enjoying his time, she didn’t need to wallow at the edge and watch the fun.

“Let’s dance!” Y/n pulled Marla with her to the dance floor.

It was just like their normal Friday night outings and since the night before they didn’t get to go out because Y/n had been busy with the party setup, tonight would be girl’s night for her and Marla.

The two laughed and moved their bodies to the beat, holding their wine glasses as level as they could so it didn’t slosh out.

She was finally having fun. Finally felt the anxiety and the guilt melt away as she danced and drank a little more wine. She had been silly to be jealous or upset. There was no reason for any of that.

But then she saw his eyes on hers. He hadn’t been looking at her all night. She figured that was for the best. But now he was watching her as he danced with the girl in the white mini-dress. His gaze was cold. His face set in a glowering smirk as he spoke something to the girl. She watched as the young woman leaned her head back to look up at Harry and his lips nipped at the space just below her ear.

She felt she could vomit. It was too much. She thought she was okay but she didn’t want to see that. Didn’t want to watch as Harry kissed anyone else and looked at her with such disdain. Was he mad at her?

She excused herself to Marla and rushed into the big house, moving into the kitchen to set her glass down. There were people in the house. Chatting, laughing, and some even dancing inside.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she leaned over the island and tried to calm her brain. What was she doing? What was wrong with her?

Warm hands covered the tops of her shoulders and the deep rasp of her stepson was in her ear before she could even open her eyes, “I need to talk to you.”

She jumped in surprise and turned around quickly as Harry ticked his head toward the stairs and he began heading toward them. She followed behind, moving up the steps with him and she assumed he would want to talk in the hallway or his room but he continued walking past his door and to the other side of the house toward her bedroom.

Without even a pause he opened her door and entered her room as if he owned it. As if it were his room.

She followed in behind him, her face set in confusion. She couldn’t know what he was going to say or what he wanted to talk about.

“Was offered a blowjob,” he blurted out as he paced. “From Leslie. She’s cute and I’m… anyway… I wanted to tell you,” he stopped and looked at Y/n, moving toward her, “in case you wanted to… maybe you’d changed your mind or-“ he ran a hand through his hair.

“What?” She was stunned, “You… why are you telling me?”

“Because I want… you, Y/n.” He said with finality.

Harry was stood close with his pink lips parted as he looked down at Y/n. He was serious. He was dead serious and she was surprised. The young girl was pretty and she wanted to give him a blowjob… “Me? What about… Leslie? She’s so cute and-“

“Not as cute as you. Ever since that night, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He cocked his head and smirked, “And I like this look,” Harry moved his hand to the material of her dress gently before letting his hand drop down to his side, “Perfect length so no one gets any ideas about you. A modest silhouette. Your hair falling out of this bun you tried to hold it in,” his hand moved upward again to push the hair off her shoulder that had indeed come undone from the bun.

“You must have had too much to drink. I’m not what you’re looking for-“

“You are. You are exactly what I’ve been looking for. And I’m not drunk, Y/n. Not even close.”

Her breaths deepened as Harry’s hand stayed at her neck where he’d pushed her hair. His thumb rubbed over her pulse point slowly. And he was suffocating, crippling her resolve. Making her question her sanity. She couldn’t allow this. Could she?

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I can’t. We… we can’t.”

Harry licked his lips, “We can actually because no one would know. Want it to be you. Want you to show me. I trust you.” He didn’t lose his composure as his palm moved upward and his thumb brushed the outer corner of her mouth.

She closed her eyes and allowed her mouth to part the slightest. She didn’t know what she was doing. Letting him stand so close. Letting him speak to her about this. Letting him touch her lips. Letting his words sink into her core.

“Harry…” she breathed out his name as she felt the pad of his thumb press over her bottom lip. Her eyes remained closed. This wasn’t happening. If she kept her eyes closed she wasn’t here and this wasn’t happening. It was just a fantasy.

The trouble was though, that it was happening. And even with her eyes closed she could feel him and how he was standing so close she could smell the whisky on his breath and feel his body heat next to hers. Feel his thumb push past her lips the slightest as her tongue poked out to taste the tiniest bit. Felt his hand grip her face and his smooth mouth on hers and his hand on her waist and his chest pressed to hers.

She forced her fingers into his hair and moaned into his mouth but then- in a sudden moment of clarity, she pushed at his chest and shook her head, “This is wrong. We can’t, Harry. You get that, right?”

Harry backed away and looked down at his feet, “I do. You don’t want me.”

She nearly blurted out to him that that was incorrect. That she did want him. That she’d fantasized about him far too often but it was unhealthy and it could only lead to disaster.

Instead, she stayed quiet. He needed to drop this. She needed to stop this. It had gone too far.

When he left her room she sat down on her bed. Now she’d gone and kissed him. Tasted his lips and the way he kissed her felt so real and so passionate. She’d missed that bit of passion. That sort of enthusiasm. It wasn’t something Leo gave her at all. She didn’t even know it was something she was missing. But Harry had woken something up in her. Ever since that night. And now the kiss had felt like she was beyond getting back to ignoring that need she’d buttoned up and pushed down. She wanted more. But that couldn’t happen.

She was surprised by Harry’s gall too. He was quite pushy, which she hadn’t expected of him. Harry, who was so gentle and thoughtful and sweet was really adamant about pursuing her.

Her tummy was still warm and filled with butterflies. He’d kissed her. And she wanted to take it further but she couldn’t. That was out of the question.

. . .

When most of the guests had gone and the house grew quiet Y/n sat outside under the twinkle lights. She’d turn them off before going in and calling it a night but she wanted a few moments of peace with the last bit of the bottle of wine she’d worked her way through after Harry had gone and scrambled her good sense.

Good sense. What a laugh. As if she had any good sense after that night at the bar. It should have never gotten as far as it had.

Y/n was also sitting outside in hopes of making sure Leslie left before she went back in. Or at least gave Harry enough time to get his blowjob or whatever it was that was going on in his bedroom.

Because Y/n was well aware that Harry had her in there. He made a show of it in fact.

When she’d gotten back outside after calming herself from the kiss, Harry had Leslie against the side of the house with his tongue down her throat. And as much as she tried to ignore that and pretend she wasn’t bothered by it, she was bothered. It hurt her feelings but she shouldn’t feel hurt. Harry should be doing things with girls his age and losing his virginity to anyone that wasn’t his stepmom.

But she kept looking over at them and when she caught Harry gazing back at her as he kissed Leslie she could almost feel her hair singe in anger. He was doing it on purpose. To make Y/n jealous.

And before he brought her into the house he casually introduced Leslie to her and then leaned in to whisper to Y/n with his whisky breath, “Last chance.”

So, not only was she a little hurt she was a little pissed. Because he was being downright bratty with it.

Half of her hoped that Leslie would take his virginity and he’d get it out of his system and that would be that.

The other part of her, the depraved, nonsensical evil bit that she kept pushed deep deep down away from anyone, wanted to make him pay for being a little jerk to her. She imagined spanking him even, which was ridiculous because he was so much larger than she was. As if he’d somehow fit over her lap and bare his ass to her for a spanking. She laughed at her thoughts but they didn’t end there.

The more wine that wound its way into her bloodstream the filthier her fantasies got. He’d grow hard after she punished him and then she’d show him what a real blowjob was like. Make him forget all about Leslie. She’d let him feel her throat on him but wouldn’t allow him to come. Instead, then she’d pull him down by his hair between her legs and guide him over her, giving him specific instructions for cunnilingus. And he’d keep licking at her and begging for more of her even after she’d come. He wouldn’t want to stop tasting her but then she’d tell him to stop – that only good boys deserve more.

Of course, the fantasy ends with him begging her to take his virginity and then making him eat his come from her pussy since he came too fast, like the virgin he is.

Depraved. But god was she turned on just thinking about it. She bet he’d like all that too.

Plucking her bottle of wine up she flicked the lights off and went into the house. No sense in staying outside and hoping Harry was quiet enough when she went inside. Plus she was quite tipsy and just needed to be put to bed.

Putting the bottle down on the counter she heard Leo sitting in the living room on a call.

It was nearly 2 am so she was surprised he was chatting with anyone but she could tell it was something for work. Plans for a business trip.

Instead of waiting and talking to him, she made her way up to her bedroom. She slowly passed Harry’s room and noticed that there was a light on but no noises to be heard, thankfully.

And she wasn’t jealous. Of course, she wasn’t. What was there to be jealous of?

After a warm shower and slathering her body in lotion, she opened her ensuite bathroom door and stopped dead in her tracks.

“What are you doing in here?”

Harry was lying on her bed, sprawled out on top of her comforter wearing the clothes he wore at his party minus his boots.

Harry lifted his head and snorted a laugh, “Wanted to say g’night to my stepmom. But then I laid on your bed,” Y/n could hear the slur in his speech and saw the way his eyes floated in his sockets as he looked at her, “and it’s so comfortable.” He pressed his palms down and moaned at the feel before plopping his head back onto her stack of feather pillows.

She stood over him and placed her hands at her hips. She was thankful she’d put on her robe before stepping out of her room. Half the time she opted to walk around her bedroom naked.

“Well, goodnight, then Harry. It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

Harry squeezed his eyes closed and the grin on his mouth widened as he spoke, “Mmm… but this feels so good. S’cozy right here.”

Y/n sat at the end of the bed and sighed. He was clearly drunk. Earlier he hadn’t been when she kissed him. Now, he was very clearly inebriated.

“Your bed is cozy too, though. You should go back to your room. Get some rest.”

Harry propped himself up by his elbows and planted his eyes on hers, “You’ve been in my bed? When?”

Shaking her head and laughing at the absurdity of this whole scenario she spoke, “I know your bed is comfortable because I helped Leo pick out your new mattress. It’s the same one as this.” She patted the bed under her.

Harry nodded slowly and she noticed his gaze at her cleavage so she tightened her robe just as there was a knock at her door.

A gasp fell from her lips and she shoved Harry off the bed, whispering, “Under the bed! It’s your father!”

Harry huffed a laugh and put his hands up in surrender, “Yes, ma’am.”

She hushed him as he scooted himself under her bed and Y/n ran to her bathroom door, “Yes!”

The door opened and Leo stepped in, a suitcase left in the doorway, “I just wanted to let you know I’ve got a sudden meeting tomorrow late morning so I’ve got to take the 5:00 am out to Savannah.”

Putting the towel up to her hair to act as if she’d just gotten out of the shower (she sort of had) she walked across the room to him, “Really? When will you be back?”

“Day after tomorrow. It’s a morning meeting, then golf, then dinner. Then the next morning I have a flight that gets me back in LA at noon.”

She smiled and slid her arms over his shoulders to bring him in for a quick hug and he caught her off guard by kissing her cheek and squeezing her back before pulling away, “Car’s outside waiting,” he ticked his head toward the door, “Tell Harry when he emerges tomorrow for me, will ya?”

When she shut her door and turned toward her bed she let out a breath of relief. She was glad Harry stayed quiet. But then she realized as she lifted her bed skirt that he’d fallen asleep down there.

Rolling her eyes she contemplated what to do. Leave him there? Wake him and help him back to his room? She really didn’t want to deal with getting him into his bedroom. Nor did she want to deal with a drunk Harry by waking him up. But ultimately her guilt wouldn’t let her leave him there on the floor. He deserved to sleep in a bed.

“Harry… come on… wake up. Leo’s gone,” she pushed at his arm gently, “Harry…” she said tunefully, elongating the yyyyyy at the end of his name.

Pulling at his arm she got him part of the way out from under her bed and lifted his arm up, “Come on… wake up,” she lightly patted his face and that seemed to do it.

Harry’s eyes opened up and landed on hers. Sparkling and green and soft. And drunk.

“Let’s get you up. Come on. Time for bed.” She helped him sit up and tucked herself under his arm and began to stand to help him upward. But he was dead weight.

“Can I please stay with you? Please, Y/n? Your bed is so soft.”

She looked at him as he spoke and she realized he was not going to make it to his room. He’d have to sleep on her bed.

But that was fine. She’d just put him in her bed and then go sleep in any of the other guest rooms. It was better than letting him sleep on the floor or attempting to walk him to his bedroom.

“You can sleep in my bed. That’s fine. Can you lift up with me?”

Harry’s smile took over his features and his pink lips looked wet and soft. He was super cute when he was drunk.

“For real?” Harry raised an arm and steadied himself with the edge of the bed, the other side assisted by Y/n as he was pushed upward to his feet.

“There we go. Okay…” Y/n nudged him to sit and Harry’s full weight fell onto the bed and he laughed.

He immediately went to grab at his pant button and Y/n paused and put her hand on his shoulder, “Uh, just lie down. I’ll go and get you some water. Be right back.”

She was doing her best. Truly. She was quite tipsy herself and her bed had been calling before Harry showed up in her room. And now here she was traipsing across the massive home to get her stepson a glass of water. She figured he’d appreciate that when he woke up in the morning. And she had hoped that by the time she returned to her room, he’d be asleep and she could sneak out and go to the nearest guest bedroom and crash there. She was tired.

But when she returned to her room, Harry had successfully pulled his pants and sheer button-up shirt off and was left in nothing but his grey boxer briefs. And he was not asleep.

Placing the water next to the side of the bed he was on, which was where she’d normally be sleeping she noted, Harry stretched his arms behind his head and smiled, “Hop in.”

She shook her head and laughed as she pulled her charger from the wall and grabbed her cell phone, “No, Harry. That’s not a good idea,” she turned off the lamp on the far side of the room and began to walk toward the door.

He sat up quickly, “Wait. You said… You’re not staying with me?”

Y/n turned to look at him, handsome and messy.

And her stepson she reminded herself.

“I’ll just be next door. Think it’s best we’re not sleeping in the same bed, Harry. Just lie down and-“

“No. Please,” Harry tried to pull himself out of the bed but his motions were lethargic and clumsy, “want you here. Just… stay with me. Please. I swear no funny business.”

She sighed and began to shake her head and repeat herself but when Harry started to place his long legs down onto the floor she rushed back to him so he wouldn’t hurt himself. That was her logic anyway. She didn’t want him to fall or crack his skull open.

Steadying him by his arms she pushed him back toward the bed, “Stay. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Harry hummed and reached up to put his fingers in her hair, “I’ll stay if you stay. If you go to the guest room I’ll just follow you like a puppy dog, Y/n.” His words were watery and his gestures were clumsy.

She closed her eyes and groaned. She was so tired. So tired. And she just wanted to lie down. And she certainly couldn’t have Harry attempting to follow her to another room and hurt himself by falling down the stairs or something.

“Fine. But you just go to sleep. I’ll stay here with you but you have to promise me you’ll go to sleep and behave.” She pointed at him.

Harry’s exaggerated grin returned as he laid his head back onto the pillow and watched her cross the room to turn off the last lamp.

Fuck, she cursed to herself under her breath. She’d forgotten to put on pajamas. She was naked under her robe.

But okay. No problem. She’d just leave her robe on and it would be fine.

Climbing into bed, on the odd side, she stretched her limbs as she laid flat and closed her eyes. She was just so tired.

“Thank you. For staying. I promise I’ll behave.”

. . .

Y/n’s alarm woke her up and she groaned and reached over to turn it off but instead, her palm found a bare, solid chest. She popped her eyes open and the events of the previous night had come rushing back. She let Harry sleep in her bed and she was reaching over toward where her phone normally was but she’d been on the opposite side of the bed.

Rolling over to press the alarm off she sighed as she snuggled back into her pillow. 6:45 am was too early to be up for a Sunday. She contemplated moving herself to a guest room since Harry was still asleep but her soft bed lulled her back into a deep sleep where her dreams were vivid and she found herself kissing Harry again. But this time, her dream took it further and she was on his lap and then they were in his bed. By any standards, it was a very good dream. A very good one.

So when she woke up for the second time that morning things were… different. Her head was not on her soft pillow and there was a hand on her bottom. She slowly came out of her easy dream state, still reeling from the kind of dream she’d just had of her stepson when she realized her cheek was smushed on Harry’s pec and it was Harry’s big palm on her bottom slowly, slowly, slowly moving down toward her thigh. He was awake.

Her dream-riddled brain mulled over what was happening. It was a slow rise but her awareness steadily stirred. Her robe had come undone and her thigh was over Harry’s. His chest was rising and falling gently and she realized her palm was over his heart, which she could feel thudding underneath. She had cuddled up to him like he was one of those body pillows.

It was nice. It felt soft and lazy and sweet to lie in her bed on a Sunday morning in the arms of a man. And the leftover remnants of her dream had her still feeling wound up.

Hesitantly, she moved her head to look upward and Harry’s hand halted when her gaze met his.

She could see him swallow and he spoke groggily, “Sorry. You were… I didn’t want to wake you.”

The way his sonorous voice reverberated from his chest against her skin and her shoulder made her meltier than she already was.

Her hand was still over his chest and she could feel his heart rate increase as he kept his eyes on hers, “It’s okay. Thank you for letting me sleep.” She was going to move. To get up and pull her robe securely around her body so he didn’t catch a glimpse of anything but she didn’t want to move. She wanted to bask in the heat of him for a little longer. To feel his fingers on her bare bottom for a few more moments. Perhaps to even feel him caressing her again. And maybe… just maybe…

She slid her palm up and scooted herself fully into his arms, her chest over his, and laid her head down against his shoulder, “Let’s just stay here a little longer. If that’s okay?”

Harry blinked his eyes and knew Y/n could feel the way his heart was lobbing around behind his ribs. His cock was already hard but she hadn’t figured that out yet and he didn’t want to scare her off because he did want to stay like that for longer. With her.

He pulled his arms around her, removing his hand from her bottom and bringing it up to wrap around her back, “That sounds perfect.” He was just glad she hadn’t moved too far up or her thigh would have come into contact with his erection and surely would have ruined the moment.

Y/n closed her eyes and indulged in the way his arms felt around her. Her bare hip was against his and it felt so salacious. So tender. Her breasts were pressed into his chest, with one of them uncovered and warm against his skin.

“Dad left for a meeting? On a Sunday?” Harry suddenly inquired. He had always been suspicious of his father’s frequent trips.

She nodded her head over his chest, “Yeah. Sometimes he has weekend meetings. It’s more like a golf outing than anything. Probably just some buddies getting together for some fun.”

“Hmm… You’re okay with him just heading out like that last minute?”

“Yeah. It’s normal. I’ve gotten used to it.”

He wasn’t sure that his father was a good husband to Y/n. He found it odd too that they had separate bedrooms. But he didn’t usually question it. However, this morning he was feeling soft toward her (well, soft emotionally… physically he was anything but soft) and wanted to protect her in some way.

Harry didn’t know how he was going to survive. His boner was only growing thicker and with the way she was wiggling over him, her thigh was nearly brushing against his –

Too late.

When she nudged at it, feeling him stiff against her thigh, she smiled to herself. She hadn’t looked down over his body but she half wondered if he was as turned on as she was. It was easier for her to hide what her dream had done to her and what being in his arms was causing to slip out from between her legs, but this pleased her.

“I’m sorry. That’s… I can’t help it.” Harry explained and Y/n lifted her head up and glanced down at where he was straining under his boxer briefs. It nearly startled her too. She hadn’t expected… that. And even though he was covered up with his underwear she understood that what he had going on there was… well she’d say he was a lucky guy and it was truly an outrage that there hadn’t been a lucky girl to try it out.

“Don’t apologize,” she looked back up at him and realized he’d been looking at her boob. The one not covered. And with the way she’d lifted herself upward to look down at him, her nipple was out for him to peek at.

She licked her lips and brought her hand down over his pec to lift herself further. Bot tits made their appearance and Harry groaned and looked away, “Sorry. Trying not to look.”

Gently putting her hand up to his jaw she turned his face to look at her, “Do you want to look?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he nodded, “Well, yeah. But I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“You’ve seen breasts before right?” Y/n laughed and slid her thigh against his thickened cock, this time on purpose.

Harry kept nodding, “Yes. Quite a few. But just not yours.” His eyes danced over her nipples and back up to her eyes, almost to make sure it was okay.

She loved his deep, raspy morning voice. Loved how gentle and intimate the moment felt.

“Did you see Leslie’s breasts last night?” Y/n teased with a smile as she lowered herself down, her naked nipples pressing into his warm skin.

Shaking his head no he laughed, “Nah. She passed out. If you thought I was drunk last night, should have seen her. Nothing happened. Wouldn’t have been able to even if we wanted.”

When Y/n felt Harry’s hand timidly return to her low back and then ghost over her ass she let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t remove her eyes from his. He was so pretty and he deserved to be put out of his misery she thought. A bad idea, yes. But to hell with it.

Sliding her thigh further over him she pushed herself to straddle him and sat up over him. Biting her lip and looking down at his chest and smoothing her hands over the smattering of hair he had and the dark tattoos… he was sexy.

Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from taking her in. Her robe was draped over her sides but was open so he could see her breasts and her tummy, her belly button and he glanced back up at her and parted his lips as he risked moving his hands over her bottom. With the way she was looking at him and touching him, he felt the risk would be worth it.

“Squeeze a little,” she whispered as she put her hands over Harry’s and directed him to take a handful of her bottom in each palm. Harry swallowed hard and panted.

“Oh my god,” his words were spoken in a quiet breath as he relished in the feeling.

When she rocked her hips forward and dragged her core over his fabric-covered cock Harry gasped and his chest rose and fell in heavy breaths.

“I had a dream about you,” she spoke as she moved her hands back up his chest and to his face as she leaned over him, putting herself directly over his erection and ground herself over him, “It was really naughty. And I’m still worked up over it. Just tell me if you want me to stop,” her pussy was wetting the fabric of Harry’s crotch and he groaned before lifting his face upward and pressing his lips to hers. He definitely did not want her to stop.

The haste of the kiss was hectic and chaotic. Harry pushed the robe off her shoulders and she flung the thick cotton down onto the floor before placing her fingers into the band of his underwear, “Let’s take a look.”

She sat back and pulled his underwear down so his cock sprung out. She continued lowering the material until his balls were free and she moaned, “It’s really pretty. Can I suck you off?”

Harry brought a hand up to his arm and pinched his skin, wincing when he felt the sting. He wasn’t sure he was really awake. Not only was Y/n completely naked on top of him, she was licking her lips and asking if she could suck him off.

“Fuck. Please yes.”

“Do you like to beg, Harry?” She grinned as she crawled herself backward to put her face above his lovely cock.

“For you, I will.”

“Mmm… such a good boy,” she looked up at him as she licked along the underside of his shaft and Harry choked out a moan. His thighs were already quivering. She figured he wouldn’t last long but that was fine for what she had in mind.

Her mouth was watering so wetting him properly wasn’t too hard as her tongue slid over his hard prick. She dotted kisses along the way and looked up at his eyes and then down to his pretty dick.

Using her hand, a palm she licked and wetted, she gently massaged his balls as she finally pulled his tip into her mouth. She lowered over him as much as possible on the first go before bringing herself off of him, “Want you to come down my throat. Okay? Want to taste you.”

Harry’s face was twisted up in ecstasy already and she hadn’t done that much, “I’m gonna come too fast.” He whined.

Shaking her head and licking over his tip she whispered against his throbbing cock, “Be a good boy and come down my throat, Harry. It’s okay if you come fast. Just feel my mouth and my tongue on you and enjoy it. Can you do that for me?”

“Ffuck…” Harry threw his head back into the pillow as she drew him back into her mouth and began sucking, “M’gonna be your good boy. Yes.”

Harry’s voice was shaky and his groans were progressively louder as she took him deeper. He clutched the blankets tight as his stepmom fondled his balls and sucked on his cock.

He’d been given blow jobs before. But already this one was far and away the best he’d ever had. Y/n was sensual and confident and she knew what she was doing. When her eyes found his every few moments that was his favorite. Watching as she looked at him dreamily with his cock in her mouth was a picture that would be seared into his mind for all eternity. Better than porn. Because it was real.

“Ahh! Shit! M’coming, please!” Harry shouted and moaned as his hands finally found their place in her hair out of instinct.

He’d pressed on her just enough that her nose was pushed into his pubes and she felt his twitching prick beating and pumping as come gushed from his tip. He came a lot. She couldn’t breathe or move but she kept her jaw wide and gagged around him as he crammed himself further into her throat and he cursed and moaned and rolled his hips upward in orgasm.

When he’d finally drained himself of everything he had he loosened his grip on her hair and she pulled up, gasping and coughing.

Harry’s fucked out gaze was adorable, she thought. A small smile on his face with pink cheeks and a splotchy red chest from the exertion of his orgasm.

She leaned over him and grasped his jaw, causing his mouth to fall open as she spit down over his tongue, “Swallow.”

Harry gulped down her mix of saliva and his come before his pink lips curved up into a big smile, “Yes ma’am.”

Y/n chuckled and then kissed him before pushing herself upward to climb off but Harry caught her arm before she could get too far, “Wait. You don’t want me to like…”

“Of course I do. But only if you want to. Have you ever eaten anyone out before?”

Harry pushed himself up by his elbows and nodded, “Yeah. Wouldn’t say I’m any good at it. Not sure I could make you come.”

There was a thrill that filed down her spine and to her toes. She didn’t need to come. She just loved how it felt to have someone with their face between her legs. It had been a while. Leo didn’t often give her cunnilingus.

“But do you want to?” She asked pointedly. She wouldn’t dream of having him do something he didn’t like.

“Fuck yes. Just show me what you like and I’ll do it.”

Harry released her wrist and she put her bottom onto the mattress and stuffed pillows behind her so she could sit up and watch. She loved the way Harry was watching her body and how dark his eyes were. He’d just orgasmed but she was confident he’d grow hard again soon. And then perhaps she could give him what he really wanted.

“Take your underwear off the rest of the way.”

Harry got up to his knees and nodded, “Yes ma’am.” A sly smirk on his lips at the new nickname he’d been using for her.

Y/n had never been a fan of being called ma’am. She felt she was too young to be a ma’am but when Harry did it in this context, it got her blood pumping wildly through her veins.

When Harry’s boxer briefs were long gone she pulled at his wrist as she opened her legs up, “Start off just exploring. I’ll guide you if you want. Use your fingers, lips, tongue… and try to keep your eyes on mine.”

Harry licked his lips and knelt over her, his hands finding her outer thighs first and spreading her wider as he looked over her glistening pussy, “So wet. Is this for me?”

His question was a surprise to her. But it was definitely lined with something innocent. Almost as if he hadn’t expected her to be in the state she was in.

Nodding her head slowly and smiling she spoke, “All for you. That’s what you did to me and you haven’t even touched me yet.”

Harry’s dimples poked into his cheeks as he shyly smiled, “Just trying to be a good boy for you ma’am.”

He jutted his tongue out and licked upward from her seeping entrance to her clit and she moaned softly as she watched him. He kept his eyes on her pussy at first. She wanted him to look up at her but she allowed him a moment to get acquainted.

He used one of his hands to gently spread her labia and lick upward again, stopping at her clit and flicking it just the tiniest bit.

“God. You know where the clit is, don’t you? That’s really good, Harry.”

He finally looked back up at her as he mouthed over her pussy and sucked gently. She keened and smiled, “Yes! Keep doing that.”

So he did. He sucked and licked, giving special treatment to her clitoris and he moaned over her as he closed his eyes and lapped at her, and kissed his way around her cunt slowly.

“Finger me. Put two in. Like this,” she reached down to his hand and twisted so his palm was upward and then pulled on his pointer and middle finger, nudging the pads of his fingers to her entrance.

His long digits inside of her didn’t disappoint. He pressed them in and pulled out slowly as he continued lapping and sucking and she gasped into the room.

She looked down at him after the initial recovery of his fingers inside of her for the first time and he was already watching her. She slid a hand over her body, stopping at her breasts for a moment before pushing her fingers into his hair, “You’re so good for me, Harry. Just like that…” she was breathless.

Harry clamped his eyes closed at her praise and used his free hand to reach up and touch her left tit. He kneaded at her flesh and then circled the pads of his fingers over her nipple slowly and she mewled, “Come up here. Suck on my breasts,” she pulled at his hair a little to lift his face, “Keep your fingers inside of me.”

Harry did as she said, pumping his fingers into her as he moved up over her body and latched on to the breast he’d been fondling. He was a star pupil. His tongue laved sensually over her areola and he continued looking at her as he stuffed his fingers knuckles deep.

Sucking on her nipple and pulling away he moved to the other side and a muffled moan vibrated over her chest and she felt his cock against her thigh. He was aroused. Thick and full once again. She knew this would happen. Or at least she hoped it would.

Harry drew his tongue to the underside of her breast and sucked in tightly, pinching her skin and she gasped as she watched him work. He moved to her other side, repeating his gesture and bruising the underside of her boob with an intense suckle that had her flesh turning purple nearly instantly.

“Fuck, Harry.”

She had little need to guide him much. He was passionate enough and horny enough that everything he was doing was just right by her standards.

Harry popped off her nipple and looked up at his stepmom with eyes that brimmed with lust and need, “I want you so bad. Please…” his dark pink lips were wet and set in a pout as he pulled his brows together. He looked like he was in pain. But he didn’t cease fucking into her with his fingers.

Y/n carded her fingers into his hair and cooed at him, “What do you want, baby? Tell me.”

She was aware of what he wanted. But somehow she was getting off on having him tell her and ask and beg with his big puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.

Harry’s hips dipped down so his prick sat in the spot right next to her pussy. She was wet all over and there was a nice little bit of glid for Harry right there as he removed his fingers from her cunt and pushed them into his mouth. He was holding himself over her with one arm as he licked her essence from his digits before pulling them out to steady himself with both arms, “You. Want to… be with you. I’m so hard again.”

She knew what he wanted. And maybe it was the haze of the dream she’d had or a sudden lack of inhibition on her part, but she wanted the same thing. And his pretty cock would feel nice wrenching into her insides and poking deeply into the viscera.

Y/n nudged at him to move back so she could sit up further, “Are you sure? Because that means you won’t be a virgin anymore. I don’t want to have you regret anything.”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t care about being a virgin. The stigma. Never mattered. But,” he put his palm over the top of her thigh and looked at her with hooded eyes, “I know you’ll show me how good it is. I trust you. Only if you want me.”

The sting of warmth shrouded her neck and then her heart. He was sweet and he was convincing.

Nodding her head she put her palm over his cheek and smiled, “I do want you. And I trust you too. Which means this has to stay between us. No one can know.”

Harry nodded. The tiny bit of scruff on his face scratched at her skin as he turned to kiss her palm and grasp her wrist in his hand, “Then, please. Just tell me what to do and how you want it. I’ll be so good for you.”

Intertwining their fingers, Y/n pulled at him to give him a soft kiss. Wet. Trembling. They both were. This was either the biggest mistake of their lives or the beginning of an extraordinary secret. They both knew it. It would change everything. It already had. They’d already given in.

Whispering as she scraped his scalp and dotted kisses at the edge of his mouth, “Do you want a condom? Will that make you feel better? I can’t get pregnant so that’s not an issue and everything else is good in that regard. Up to you.”

Y/n always wore condoms with Leo, at his insistence. Because of their agreement. An open marriage if you will. But with Harry, she’d forego the barrier knowing he was a virgin.

“Do you want me to wear one? I do have some that I’ve never used,” he laughed as he spoke the word used.

“I’d like to feel you just like this,” she lowered her hand to his throbbing shaft and inhaled sharply at how warm and thick he was in her hand, “If that’s okay.”

Harry closed his eyes and nodded, “More than okay.”

“Good. Now. When you fantasize about having sex. What position are you in the most?” Y/n wanted to have him start off with what he fantasized about. She knew he’d like any position, most men did.

The edge of Harry’s mouth quirked up as he breathed out a laugh, “Just… all of them. But, normally I’m on top,” he swallowed.

“That’s good. Let’s start there.” She lay back and spread her legs, gently pulling at him to follow.

Harry put himself between her thighs and brought his palms down to the mattress on either side of her shoulders.

“Push your hips down and line up over me,” She took her hand and guided him so that his heavy cock was slipping through her labia, getting coated in her slick, “Yes, now, move back and forth and just feel how wet I am like this. How it’s getting all over you before you even need to push inside. Feels good right?” Harry’s mouth was dropped open and he nodded, “Yes.”

“Mmm… feels good to me too. When you do that, your tip is hitting my clit. See?” She looked down between their bodies, urging Harry to do the same.

He groaned as he continued gliding through her wet pussy lips, “Fuck. So pretty.”

The sound alone was sexy. Her pussy was really wet and the noise that his dick caused with each pass through her folds was pornographic.

“We’re pretty together, aren’t we?”

He nodded and moaned, moving himself a little faster.

“Such a good boy. Now, I want you to kiss me. Keep your mouth on mine and then when you’re ready, put your delicious cock inside of me. Okay?”

Another moan fell from his lips as he lowered himself to kiss her mouth. Y/n licked over his lips and Harry opened up and used his tongue against hers as he slowly pushed his engorged dick up and down, nudging her clit on each upward thrust. His mouth was watering as he got himself into position, putting his knees down to steady himself and rearing back to align his pink tip with her puffy, wet entrance.

Never removing his lips from hers as he continued kissing her and sipping at her tongue he dipped gently into her. First, his wide head barely smoothed into her until he was met with resistance from the small muscle of her vaginal opening.

She could feel him hesitate, knowing he wasn’t sure if it was too much. She smiled into the kiss and spoke, “Just push. It’s like that on purpose. A little tight on the first go but once you’re in there it’s so good. You’re just a little thick so this is gonna be normal for you. Gotta just press in past my tight opening.”

The whimper that fell from his mouth before he pushed his lips back to hers made her head spin. But what really got her was when he did as she said and pushed in through her muscle and slid himself in half way.

They both gasped, parting from the kiss. There it was. He was inside of her. He moaned into her mouth as he pulled back so his tip was pulled out and then reentered, pushing past that tight muscle again as he licked into her mouth.

It was good. She knew it would feel good. His hard cock was heavy and thick and as he pressed himself in until he couldn’t push any further she gasped at how deep he was.

Harry was on a different plane of existence in that moment. He’d given his virginity to the hottest woman he’d ever met and now he was allowed to fuck her. She’d given him permission and he’d given her permission and his dick had never ever felt so good.

He’d had his cock sucked and he’d used toys with lube that mimicked pussy, but this was… warm and real. And it smelled like her and his mouth still tasted like her and she was moaning as he moved into her. She was enjoying it too. And that… that was the best part.

He continued moving his mouth over hers as he thrust his way into her as deep as he could get until his balls were pressed into her bum. He was more than thankful that he’d already come so he could last a bit longer. He’d still come embarrassingly fast, he was sure, but now he had a little advantage. Instead of three minutes, possibly ten? He hoped. At minimum. Because he didn’t want this feeling to ever end. He’d fuck his stepmom for the rest of his life if it felt this way. They could just stay like this in her bed, slipping together and kissing and being connected.

A knock at the door and the voice of a female was heard from behind the wood.

Harry stopped his movements and Y/n grasped onto him with one hand to keep him still and put her finger up to her mouth, “Who’s there?”

“I’m Harry’s friend, Leslie. Sorry to bother you. I didn’t know where he went.”

Harry’s breaths were rapid as he stared down at the pretty woman he was inside of. He’d totally forgotten about Leslie.

“Uh… I think he left? Maybe? Not sure hon! I’m in the middle of something and…” she didn’t know how to get rid of the girl. She didn’t want to be rude but she was truly very much in the middle of something. Something very good. She was just thankful that the door was locked.

Harry slowly began thrusting again as he kept his eyes on Y/n’s, holding himself up over her.

“That’s okay! Sorry! I’ll be leaving. Just tell Harry I will talk to him later!”

The smirk on Harry’s face as he began to press in harder had Y/n’s tummy on fire, or perhaps it was his lengthy cock pushing into her guts, “Thank fuck she’s gone. In the middle of losing my virginity here,” he laughed as he rocked his hips sharply and Y/n grunted at the harsh thud.

“Oooh… fuuu….” Y/n moaned with a smile as he did it again, “So good like that. You gonna fuck me a little harder now? Be a good boy and make it hurt a little.”

Harry was a good listener. Had always been. This time was no different. He began to plunge into her with a dizzying drag, forceful and trenchant. Just like she liked. Especially when it was Harry doing it.

“Like that? You want it like that?” He punctuated his words with each rut of his hips.

“Yeah, just like that,” she scraped her nails over his back and keened as her body was rocked upward on each of his thrusts, “How do you feel? Tell me what it’s like.”

Harry’s hips stuttered as he brought the cadence down so he could speak, “Fuck, it’s good. So fucking nice,” he wanted to say more about how it felt. Wanted to tell her he could do this with her forever and that her pussy was the only one he’d want to fuck from now on (he was sure of that). Wanted to blurt out that she was so pretty and how perfect they looked together. But he held back with the understanding that his lust was clouding the things his heart was feeling at that moment.

“Tell me mmm… oh yes! Right there!” She closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep from shouting loudly when Harry ground into her just right, not sure if Leslie was still in the house or not, “Tell me what it feels like inside of me.”

Harry’s panted words were slow and deep, “Like I’m gonna come harder than I ever have. It’s so warm and smooth. Gripping me so tight. Never want it to stop…” his hips smacked against hers as he moved into her with a hungry force.

Her mouth was wide open as her breaths were being knocked out of her lungs and her tits swayed under him.

Harry looked down at his sexy stepmom with her lusty face and body and he lowered down to wrap his lips around hers. She brought her legs over his back and pushed at his bottom with her heels to urge him deeper.

Using his forearms to hold himself up he rolled his hips into her slowing down his pace to make it last. He wanted to feel her like this for a little longer. He knew he could come soon.

Wet squelches between their bodies where they were connected and sliding together with no barriers and tiny creeks from the mattress filled the room. The sound of illicit sex. The sound of something happening that was so wrong that it was good. So good.

Y/n could tell Harry was going to come as his breaths heaved and his thighs trembled against her each time he pushed in, “Harry… you feel so good filling me up. I want to come too,” her words were panted as Harry sliced into her deeply and stilled his hips as he looked down at her.

“Want you to come too. What do you need, Y/n?” Harry’s chest rose and fell quickly as he pushed his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Is it okay if I get on top and ride you how I like? Always come when I get on top.”

Harry smiled and licked into her mouth for a good moment, pulling at her lips and grinding into her further so she could feel him as deep as he could possibly go before, pulling back and gently bringing her thighs down as she placed her feet flat onto the mattress.

Y/n sat up and ogled Harry’s body as he turned and moved to his side. She crawled over him, pushing him down to his back, and sat over her knees between his legs. She brushed her palms up his sturdy thighs up to his hips, never touching his throbbing prick before leaning over him and kissing his right thigh upward to the apex of his thigh and crotch, careful to leave him wanting. Repeating the same worship on his left thigh but taking a little time over the tiger tattoo. She looked up at him as she licked over the ink and then continued kissing her way up, devastatingly close to where he needed her. So close.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Harry. All of you,” she brushed her hands up over his laurels and to the butterfly that was rising and falling with his breath, “I’m surprised you haven’t found someone special already.” She praised. As she lowered her lips to his belly button he felt her hair ghost over his cock and whimpered.

Y/n smiled into his skin as she grazed her teeth gently upward to the butterfly licked around the lines before dotting hot kisses over his pecs, “Please… please…”

Raising her face and looking up at her stepson, “Please? What is it, baby? What do you need?” Her smirk was devious. Harry loved it. He fucking loved every single thing she was doing.

“Wanna feel you on top. Gonna burst.”

Lowering her lips back to his pecs she sucked a nipple passed her lips and nipped. Harry threw his head back into the pillow and coughed out a loud groan, “Ask me nicely. Like a good boy. You’ll get anything you want from me if you’re good, Harry.” Her words were breathed out over his skin and the spattering of chest hair. Her lips made their way up to the swallows.

“Please, ma’am. I want to feel you on top. If you… ffuck… please.”

Her grin did not disappear as she licked and pecked her way up to his neck, “I’m dripping for you, Harry. Such a sweet boy with such a big cock for me to play with. Isn’t that right?”

Harry was going to lose it. This was his fantasy. No. It was better than anything he imagined. Y/n was better. He loved being put in his place because most of the time no one ever challenged him. Or made him feel this way.

“Y…yes. Just for you.”

Y/n sat up and straddled him, placing her knees down on the mattress to the sides of his hips. Finally. She placed her messy cunt over his shaft and slid herself up toward his frenulum and down toward his base, “Just for me. That’s right. Gonna let me play with your cock and fuck myself on it and make myself come, yeah?”

Harry nodded frantically and placed his palms on her hips as she leaned forward and placed her hands over his pecs, “When I start to ride you I’m gonna go slow, up and down like this,” she demonstrated by repeating the motion of her hips, tilting her pelvis down and letting her clit drive up and down over him as she panted, “so I can keep my clit in contact with your pelvis and I’m gonna come pretty fast. I need you to let me come before you do. And if you want you can come inside of me. That’s up to you. Just let me know what you want.”

Harry nodded, “It’s okay if I come inside of you?”

“Yes, it is. Would love it if you did but it’s your choice in the end. Can come in my mouth again if you want, or my tits. Whatever you like.”

“Inside of you, please. That’s what I want.”

“Mmm… such a good boy,” she tilted herself down so her breasts ghosted over his chest as she kissed him softly, lips moving with his and small sips of tongue before she slowly sunk down over him. That same mouthwatering initial push of his wide tip into her opening snapped and then spread her apart, “Hhharry! Fuck your dick is so fucking good!”

He couldn’t speak. It was so intense. His fingers gripped her hips as she shifted over him slowly. Her nails pinched into the flesh over his muscled pectorals and he felt his balls tighten. Her moans and pretty mouth with her tongue peeking out had him leaking steadily with pre cum, “I’m trying…” he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Her tits swayed as she rode him and the way she felt on him had him tipping too fast, “Fuck… Want you to come first…”

She cooed and slowed her hips, sitting upright and changing the position of him inside of her. Deeper yet as she leaned back gently and looked down to where his cock was buried into her.

Harry chanced a peek, not wanting to miss it, and he was not ready for the sight. He groaned and brought one hand from her hip to her clit and then looked up at her before focusing back on the way his cock spread her pussy lips as he thumbed over her clit.

“My sweet boy. Just hang on. This feels so perfect. Just want to soak it in with you.” She lowered her hand over his fingers where he was circling over her button and she hissed, “Gonna make me come so hard Harry,” she swayed her hips back and forth, keeping herself upright so they could enjoy the lurid show of their connected bodies.

Currents of hot arousal coursed through her body as she clenched over him and felt his cock nudging her cervix. It was a tight fit but it had her body leaning into an orgasm.

She leaned back forward, Harry’s fingers pushed away as he placed his hand back onto her hip and she slid up and down, dragging her clit into his pelvis and her gasps and fluttering walls signaled to Harry she was coming.

He closed his eyes and felt sweat at his temple as he felt her squeezing and pulsing as she moaned his name and he felt her thighs shaking, “Yes… yes! Harry! I need you… need this… Hhaaarry… fuck! Fffuck!”

The mattress moved and creaked under Harry’s back as his stepmom got off on his cock and Harry was certain he was already filling her up with gushes of his pre-come. He was doing his best but he’d never experienced a cunt squeezing around him in orgasm. It was witchcraft and he was obsessed. He’d never be the same.

“Come! Harry, come inside of me baby…” she moaned as she continued rocking over him, everything slick and smooth between them.

Harry choked out the loudest moan and he was so far gone he couldn’t be bothered to care how vocal it was. He didn't care if anyone heard it. He was coming and his sight dimmed as he pumped into his stepmom’s pussy as she milked him with her spasming muscle. Together their moans were the music of relief.

Y/n could feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of her as he released his sperm into her aching and slippery inner tissues. He was punching into her so deep from below her it made her quiver in euphoric pain. She leaned over him and attached their mouths as he finished himself inside of her. She grasped his head on each side, her fingers in his thick hair to keep his head tilted up so their lips could move together.

He'd come undone completely. Tears pricked at his eyes and slid down his cheeks as he whined into her mouth and attempted to kiss her in return. He moved his hands to her ass and pressed her down as he lifted his hips so he could burrow in deep causing her to gasp and then squeak at the punishing plunge.

“Fuck, Harry!”

They were both shivering and heaving and kissing with saliva-covered lips and moans and wildly beating hearts.

When he’d calmed he sucked in a sharp breath as she collapsed over him and snuggled her face into his neck. They were sweaty and sticky and hot but it felt precious and perfect.

Harry closed his eyes and basked in the way Y/n felt on top of him, her warm breath at his neck, her wet pussy soothing his softening cock as his heart calmed. He dragged his hands up from her bottom to her back and rubbed along her spine, the pads of his fingers slipping through the layer of sweat that had formed.

He felt her lips pucker at his neck and then her nose push upward until her lips were at his jaw and then she pushed up to look down at him.

“Are you okay?”

Harry couldn’t imagine not being okay as long as he was getting fucked like that. But the issue was that Y/n was not just some girl he could date and then fall in love with. There would be no possibility of them being together. In fact, he was unsure that this would ever happen again and that had his heart sinking before he could even answer her.

She noticed the look of unease over his features and she swiped at his cheeks with her thumbs, “Hey… what’s wrong? I’m sorry, was that-“

“No. That was everything I ever wanted it to be. It was perfect, Y/n. I’m… fine. I’m okay. Just thinking.”

She nodded as she moved herself off of him and lay on her side to talk to him. He followed her and rolled to his side, his hands not leaving her hips, not yet ready to be rid of this moment.

“Tell me. What are you thinking about it? You can talk to me.” Her fingers brushed over his arms and up to his shoulders as she watched his glassy eyes closely.

Harry smiled sadly and shook his head, “It’s stupid. It’s not your problem.”

Y/n sighed and lifted her leg to drape her thigh over his, “Talk to me. Please. We just did something very risky and now we’re treading in dangerous water. Let’s keep open with each other. Okay? Because there’s no one else to talk to about this,” she grazed her knuckles along his cheekbone, “Pretty boy. Please talk to me.”

He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes to gather the thoughts brimming from his head.

“I don’t know how I’m ever gonna forget about this and move on.” He opened his eyes to look at her and slowly smoothed his palm over her side and to her breast, “I really like you. I’m feeling things that maybe I shouldn’t.”

Y/n nodded and swallowed. She loved the way his fingers ghosted over her nipple and how glassy his green eyes were, how gentle, “Me too.”

He blinked his eyes, all shiny eyelids and damp lashes covering and then revealing his pretty irises, “You do? Feel things?”

She grinned and closed her eyes. It felt like a lot. She wasn’t in love with him or anything and this had been a mistake for sure. An epic error. But she was feeling something. His warmth and his heart and his excitement. It transferred over to her veins and her skin and the roots of her hair and sparked a longing for something. When she opened her eyes again she licked her lips, “Yeah. I like you a lot. Wouldn’t have gotten this far if I didn’t.”

“Would you… consider doing it again? With me? Like,” he clenched his jaw and brought his hand up to her clavicle, “a thing just for us. Our secret?”

He was sure she’d say no.

Biting her lips she lifted herself and pulled Harry’s bottom arm under her head so she could draw in closer to him. She just wanted to be as close as possible. She brought her hand to lie flat over his heart and tilted her head back to look up at him, her thigh still braced over his hip. He moved his hand down her body to the back of her thigh as she adjusted herself in close.

“It’s so bad. What we’ve just done. It crosses a line. So many invisible lines,” she whispered as she traced her finger upward to his neck, “But… I guess I don’t care. Because I wanna keep doing it. I guess that makes me a terrible person.”

Stitching his brows together he frowned, “You’re a beautiful person, Y/n. So kind and smart,” he squeezed her hip and pulled her up to his mouth so he could kiss her. His stepmom, his lover, his paramour. He pulled back, his nose pressed to hers, “If you’re a terrible person then I’m right there with you. Let’s be terrible people together.”

They both laughed at Harry’s words and grinned widely.

It was ludicrous. A wild suggestion to continue their illicit affair. Of course, it would be easy. Too easy. That is as long as no one ever found out.

“Do I have you for the rest of the day?” Y/n tucked herself in closer as she asked.

“That you do. And I think there’s so much more for you to teach me. Might be a really late night for us.”

“Oh definitely, until the wee hours. So many things you need to learn before I let you leave.”

Next part: 2. No panties? | A Good Boy Masterlist

A/N: What did you think? I have so many ideas for this story but I didn't want it to get any longer than it already is. Would you guys be interested in seeing more? Let me know!

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k-hotchoisan · 1 year ago

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hii it’s me again with another request (sorry)

Could you write smtg based off the song agora hills by doja cat? whatever member u prefer is fine 💕💕

anywayssss i love you smmm and u are an amazing person!! 💕💕🤭🧎‍♀️

omg that is such a cute song (if you squint hard enough past the public sex HAHAHAH)

Please never apologise for coming back for a request, you know I’ll always welcome you with open arms 🥰

Always thank you for being so sweet vic (if it’s okay to call you that~) and for giving me inspiration + pushing me write out of my boundaries. I genuinely appreciate it.

AND I LOVE YOU TOO 🗣️🩷😭

Where you and Seonghwa have a fight before his Grand Prix finals, but he still wins, and loses his fucking mind when he sees you still cheering for him despite that.

Genre/Warnings: racer au, smut, semi public sex, you fuck Seonghwa in his racer gear, IF YOU SQUINT HARD ENOUGH THERES LIKE ANGST (it isn’t heavy don’t worry), creampies, mild dacryphilla, unprotected sex, sweaty sex

You storm past your partner into the hotel room, trying to let the anger dissipate. Seonghwa is trying to get to you, explaining what you saw. You know that it couldn’t be helped, but feel the thorns prickling your heart when you couldn’t even approach him when you caught one of his overly zealous and nepotistic fans with her hands over him during the after party. Nothing much could done because;

a. He couldn’t do anything about it because the relationship between the both of you had to be kept a secret, his management did not like the thought of entertaining Seonghwa in a relationship when his career is at his peak;

b. The Grand Prix finale was tomorrow. A lot of stakes were in place, and Seonghwa knew better than to fuck it up, especially when he’s worked so hard to get where he is now. He’s so close.

He’s also so fucking close to just wanting to let the world know how possessive he is over you.

“You know it’s not like that right?” and he goes on and on. You know that it’s part of his job—to network, get more sponsors, even if it meant letting other women get a little too close to him. You understand, you do, but oh god, it gets so fucking exhausting. You just wanted time for yourself to clear your head and process the whole thing, and potentially stabbing that nepo baby at least sixty times in your head.

Your arms are crossed. Arguing with him is the last thing you want to do right now, especially when the both of you barely escaped getting caught sneaking into his hotel room. All that for a fight to erupt between the both of you after a long and tense day on the track. You glare at him with a pout.

“I’m going home.”

Seonghwa whips his head so fucking fast, his eyes piercing right into you. He looks absolutely dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?”

You nod. “I’m sorry that I overreacted, but now, I’m not risking us getting caught when tomorrow’s the finals.”

Seonghwa wants to fucking pounce and cage you in. Before he even attempts to deflect your words, you cut him off-

“-and especially when you’re not the one dating someone who needs to keep a relationship a secret.” You sigh. “Please get some rest, Hwa.”

You pull the hotel door open, and leave promptly. Seonghwa stands there, his brows furrowed as frustration bleeds into him. He wants to so badly chase after you, but he knows you wouldn’t let him, not when there could be a chance to risk getting caught by anyone from his team.

As the cab pulls away further from the hotel, your phone is spammed by Seonghwa, and he’s explaining himself. You purse your lips, reading over his texts, but you only decide to reply a curt reiteration of what you told him earlier at his hotel room, and a “love you”, before unlocking your door to finally wash up.

A ping of guilt courses through you—you know you shouldn’t misunderstand or be jealous, but if anything, it was but how it made you feel, and it wasn’t pretty. You didn’t mean to show a perturbed expression when his eyes glanced at you after he barely managed to shake his little fan girl off him, but it was just automatic. And if anything, Seonghwa is just as possessive as you are, if not worse, especially when he sent death glares to your direction when another male had approached you, and periodically touched you up on your arms, which kind of caused the argument to even start in the first place.

Your eyes flutter close, exhausted, as sleep drags you in deeper, the last thing in your mind being Seonghwa.

The morning sun leaks through the windows of Seonghwa’s room. He’s already up, albeit half awake, getting ready for another whole day of racing. His mind was set on going all out for the finals, but something still remains at the back of his mind, and he doesn’t want to push it away. He thinks to himself, he wants to do it for you.

You only send Seonghwa a short text of encouragement, and he doesn’t reply. Then again, he is wrapped up with interviews over interviews, training and the finale would only start when dusk sets. You don a body con dress, paired with one of Seonghwa’s racer jackets you stole, might as well surprise him a little bit.

On the cab to the event, Seonghwa’s gorgeous face is plastered all over the Grand Prix news, as one of the rising stars. He looks absolutely stunning, no doubt, and it gets your heart racing too because you cannot believe he’s yours.

You take a seat amongst the noisy crowd around you. The atmosphere was getting really riled up, especially when the racers all appear on the big screen as they walk back stage to their cars. Your eyes are glued to the screen as Seonghwa appears in his racing gear, and he winks at the camera, a slew of fangirl screams burst around you, and you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle. All the hard feelings the night before faded off, and you heart felt full yet anxious for Seonghwa.

It takes awhile for the warm up and safety check to be cleared, but before you knew it, the checkered flags are raised and lights turned green, cheers roar across the tracks as the loud screeches of the cars overpower them.

Throughout the laps, Seonghwa falls in between 3rd and 4th place, you bite your lip, praying that he’s able to catch up. As the laps close in to its final rounds, Seonghwa slowly climbs up the position to first, and he maintains, amazingly. The night continues to burn with anticipation as the final lap commences, with Seonghwa neck to neck with another racer, switching between first and second.

The final corner becomes the make or break—as Seonghwa drifts, effectively overtaking just slightly before fully taking the spot for first.

And he speeds into the finishing line, winning championship.

You jump from your seat, your fingers clasped from the tension as the announcer is proclaiming Seonghwa’s win, and the screen flashes his winning race in slow motion. Your heart is pounding in your ears as the screams are blocked out. You are so proud that nothing leaves your lips as you fight the tears from falling as you clap. The screen flickers to the car cam, and you see Seonghwa pumping his fist in victory as he rides through another victory lap.

The barricade has fans screaming Seonghwa’s name as he leaves the car and pulls his helmet off. He looks so fucking amazing even when he’s sweaty, and you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. You decide not to squeeze with the fans near the barricade, opting to stand further away.

Well, now where does this relationship go? He’ll probably be even further from you now.

A huge group of reporters swarm him, and he looks overwhelmed, that is until his eyes scan the crowd and lands on you, just when you’re ready to turn to leave.

Seonghwa’s heart skips a beat, his eyes are only tunnelling you as he pushes past the crowd, jumping past the barricade to where you are. You have a small smile on your face because you know he deserves all of this.

A tight grip on your hand halts you in your tracks, shocking you, as you turn around with wide and confused eyes. He pulls his goggles off. Before you could even process it, Seonghwa has his jacket that you’re wearing in his fist as his hands travel up cup your jaw—and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

Your eyes shut as the kiss scatters fireworks beneath your eyelids, with Seonghwa’s lips right pressing against yours. Your mind is fuzzy, as your ears blocks out the loud screams of his fans. He pulls back after what feels like an eternity, before bowing politely at the group of fans and reporters in front of him as he leads you away.

From the circuit track to his hotel room, he never once let go of your hand, probably only gripping it tighter the closer he got to his room. He doesn’t say a damn thing either, probably because he still has the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Nonetheless, you still can’t tell what he’s thinking, and you’re wondering if he’s still upset.

At least not until the moment the door closes behind you.

Because he turns his heels right at you as devours your lips, not letting go at all, even as peels off his jacket, then yours.

He finally pulls back, giving you a breather. His eyes look absolutely wild as he tugs his jacket off you, exposing the way your dress hugs your curves, and his breathing becomes heavier.

“Fuckin hell. You don’t know how much it drives me insane when you’re wearing my jacket over something fuckin slutty like this. Fuck,” he groans, kicking his shoes off. You stare at him breathlessly as you remove your shoes as well, but your gaze never leaving how Seonghwa looks so fucking good with a compression shirt on—the way it hugs his biceps, the way it pulls taut against his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous bounce of his fucking tits every time he shifts his arms. He doesn’t remove his top before pulling you right back into his arms, his hands snaking up to grab your braless tits, which makes him groan again.

“Fuck, you’re not even wearing a bra. Are you fucking kidding me?” His erection presses hard against your thigh, and you’re working through your brain to find and answer amidst being trapped by pleasure. “And where did you think you were running to, looking like that?”

“N-nowhere! I thought you’d be caught up with the report-“ he cuts you off with another hungry kiss. God, he’s so desperate that you can’t help feel the heat pool between your legs. It doesn’t help that he had pulled your dress down past your chest, and his hands are all over your tits, sending sparks down your your spine, right to your pussy. Seonghwa pulls away once more, licking the string of spit that connected the both of you.

Seonghwa hums. “Mmm. Shouldn’t have asked. I’d still fuck you dumb anyway.” Your grip on his arm tightens. His fingers snake under your dress, tugging on your panties as he pulls the pair down, and pockets the pair of panties. The wet patch of slick doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His gaze locks onto yours as he makes sure you watch him cover his fingers with spit before his fingers head south. His fingers meet your slick that covered your cunt and scoffs.

“You’re already so fucking wet already”. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as his fingers begin rubbing your clit. You lean forward and sigh as you use his shoulder to lean your head on. He lets you for a moment, adoring the way you’re beginning to squirm underneath him. Then he’s grabbing your waist and then dumping you right on the couch, pushing your legs open for him. Your cunt glistens with slick right for him, and Seonghwa is more than ready to dive in, giving a lick before fully immersing his tongue right into your sex, flicking his tongue against your clit, his hands squeezing your thighs. Your fingers are tangled in his hair and your head is thrown back as you tug his slicked back hair. If you weren’t seeing stars, you’d be seeing the fucking heavens.

Seonghwa hits a pace where you’re beginning to see white spots beneath your eyelids and the knot tugs hard in your stomach. Your thighs contract immediately, but Seonghwa keeps them apart, because he knows that’s the sweet spot. He knows it makes you tingle and it gets him so fucking excited. His tongue works even quicker on your clit and your orgasm builds so fucking quick and your whines climb up in octave, music to Seonghwa’s ears.

“There, there. Oh fuck. I’m cumming. Oh my fucking god”, leaving your lips like a mantra, alongside more whines of his name as your orgasm tingles through your body in waves. His tongue presses against your clit and he sucks on your clit, causing you to jolt, tears already streaking from the overstimulation. Seonghwa’s moaning in your wet cunt, making sure he devours every part of your orgasm as his ego inflates. A broken cry leaves your lips as you release his locks, your hands slumping against the couch. Seonghwa presses a wet kiss against your cunt with a smile. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he towers over you, his erection staining his pants already. Oh god, you love the way your arousal is all over his plump lips nonetheless. He was made for eating you out. He leans in for another ravenous kiss—and he swears he can never get enough of it. Before you realise it, your dress is pulled back up past your tits.

His fingers gently intertwine with yours as he pulls you up, and leads you to-

“The balcony?” You question, your heart hammering in your chest. Seonghwa cracks a smile as he leans in.

“Yeah. I wanna show the world my girl. I’ll fuck you so good that I’ll make sure the world knows.”

“But-“

“It’ll be fine. I’m serious. We’re so high up and we’re clothed, well kind of ”, he comforts. You bite your lip, because fuck, it was definitely exhilarating to be fucked on the balcony. You wanted the world to know that he’s yours too and the thought of it only heats you up even more.

He leads you the beach chair at the side, where he makes you sit and hang your legs on either side of the arm rests, and he’s about to remove his compression top but your hands stop his before you realise it. He looks at you, concern flashes over his face for brief second.

“Fuck me with your racer gear on.”, you blurt out, curling your fingers against the taut fabric. Seonghwa’s expression immediately switches over to one of a smirk. “What have you been fantasising about, darling?” He pokes, looming over you with a cocky smile.

You can’t escape, the only thing that does is a small whimper. Seonghwa doesn’t push for an answer, because he’s busy yanking his pants down past his thighs, and his cock springs out, hitting his lower abdomen. He sighs as he gives his fat cock a couple of pumps while looking at you with your legs spread wide open for him, your pussy just salivating at the thought of him pounding into you into the next week.

He lines himself to your entrance and doesn’t warn you before he enters, and a squeal leaves your lips, then a soft cry as he pushes more inches into you—every inch going thicker and thicker as he goes down to the base, until he’s snug in your cunt.

“That’s my good girl. Warm and wet, just how I like it”, he whispers into your ears, as he strokes your thighs gently. More sobs leave you, your fingers pressing onto Seonghwa’s arms.

Just when you thought you couldn’t fit any more of Seonghwa, the sudden thought of him right now, fucking you in his uniform somehow swallowed more of his cock, earning you the most gorgeous moan from Seonghwa as his eyes roll back and his eyebrows scrunched.

“Baby-fuck!-just what are you thinking about? Squeezing me like this? Oh god”, his knuckles are whitening from his grip on the arm rest. He pulls out before starting a pace to fuck you with, and soon enough it’s only the sounds of skin slapping, both of your moans and the feeling of Seonghwa’s cock just pounding right into the perfect angle of your cunt that exists in this damn universe. You wouldn’t ask for more.

Your brain was becoming pulp, only soft sobs every time Seonghwa’s balls deep into you. You could only focus on how his biceps tensed against the fabric as his tits fucking bounced every time his slams his cock into you—which you definitely see it too—the way his pants hang just at his lower thighs, and his cock is just disappearing into your pussy, drawing out squelching sounds that were borderline obscene. Drops of sweat splatter onto your dress as he leans in to rest his forehead onto yours.

“So good. So fucking good to be inside you like this”, he curses, trying to not the feeling of his orgasm overpower him. As you were gradually losing yourself to the pleasure, he suddenly pulls back completely, and instructs you to face the night scenery with your ass out. He crumpled your dress to your waist, and his cock enters you again, causing you to draw a sharp breath. He doesn’t let you adjust—he just starts fucking you raw like that, leaving your mouth agape and eyes blown out from the pleasure.

He’s able to reach even deeper part of your pussy now, and he makes sure you fucking cry for him. “H-Hwa!”, you try to speak in between sobs. “Oh god, oh god. I can’t. It’s so deep.” Your hands barely have the strength to hold onto the rails as he is railing you from behind.

“That’s my pussy. Milk me dry baby”, Seonghwa grunts, his fucking becoming more erratic, admiring the way your ass bounces off his cock so naturally. “I’m cumming all the way in baby. Be a good girl and take it, yeah?”

And a drawn out moan fills your ears as his cum floods your abused hole, and you cry out as your second orgasm hits you, clenching his cock even more. A loud slap reverberates into the night as his hand lands on your ass, causing you to flinch and squeal.

“That’s it, baby. Oh, you’re such a good girl”, he hums, holding your hips as far as his cock would let him drive into you, letting cum dribble down your inner thighs. He pulls out slowly, admiring the way your cunt convulses, small loads of his cum and yours leak out of you. You release your grip from the railings and fall right into his arms, as he plants a loving kiss on your temple before whispering,

“I promise you’re the only one for me, baby.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #kpop fics #ateez seonghwa #y/n x seonghwa #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Omg jade hii <3 I know it's not shy friday yet but can I request maybe eddie with a shy best friend who's secretly in love with him? 👉👈 up to you wether he notices or is oblivious. I love your fics sm thank u any way❤️

omg hii thank u for ur request, I guess it is shy friday now!! i hope u enjoy! fem!reader, 1k

Eddie grabs your hand as soon as he gets close enough, his delight to see you completely unshielded. "Holy shit!" he says, forgetting your hand to throw his arms over your shoulders. "I missed you so fucking much, never ever go on vacation again."

"Eddie," you murmur reproachfully, though your arms have a mind of their own, wrapping around his back.

"You're not allowed to leave me. I hate everybody who isn't you the longer you're gone, it makes me a bad person."

Eddie steps back but keeps your shoulders in his hands. His eyes are soft and brown, but his excitement to see you has his pupils like pinpricks. His cheeks are quickly chapped in the cold wind blowing in through the doorway.

"I bet it was warmer there, we're knee deep in winter now," he says. "You look like you had a good time."

"It was good," you agree, sliding the bag of presents from your elbow to your wrist, assuming he'll want to see them most.

He begged for gifts, in person before you went and down the phone while you were gone, landline calls he insisted on. I worry about you, I wanna make sure you're okay when I’m not there.

You got him everything you could afford, a magnet, a bottle opener, a key chain, a teddy bear with a flag around his neck. Basically a bag load of candy on top.

"I really missed you, sweetheart," he says. "Not to be sincere or anything, but I fucking love you. Next time you go away I'm gonna have to come with you."

You laugh nervously. "I love you too," you say, averting your gaze to his collar, black double stitching against his neck.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

"No," you lie. You hate being an imposition on him, even knowing that Eddie will tell anyone willing to listen that you're his best friend.

"Seriously? You were on a plane for hours, and you came straight to see me, let me buy you pizza or something, yeah?"

You lick your lips and nod. Eddie lifts your face to his, and it genuinely feels like a heart attack, that sudden realisation he could kiss you if he wanted to, the proximity of his face to yours. Instantly, you're wondering if your breath is okay, if you have eye crusties, if you smell good.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concerned.

"I'm alright, I'm just tired," you say.

"You don't look tired, you look cagey. Sorry, I forget that you get all shy again when we don't see each other." He talks brazenly but not without sympathy, patting your shoulder. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

"Can we order something? I'm sick of being in motion."

Eddie throws his car keys like a longshot into the bowl on the sideboard by his front door. "Yes. Absolutely. I'm sick of moving too, and this is the first time I've stood up today."

"Gross."

"I brushed my teeth before you came over," he says, bearing them garishly as proof. He talks through gritted teeth, "Pearly white, no?"

"Looking good."

He beams. Eddie wraps a hand around your wrist like the touch means nothing and tugs you along to the living room. He pushes you down into the seat you always take, tosses your usual blanket at you, and whizzes off to the kitchen for coke and popcorn. He has the sweet stuff in a bucket that he eats a handful at a time, the lid sealed.

"New one?" you ask.

"Waiting for my best girl to get home," he says easily, collapsing down into the seat next to you, dropping the remote on your chest. "Shit, I missed this."

"You didn't watch TV while I was gone?" you ask, confused.

"I watched TV, it just wasn't good without you in my ear judging people."

"I don't judge people… much."

"Everybody judges people. I love when you judge people 'cos you say what I'm thinking." Eddie drops his head into your shoulder, his curls brushing your cheek. "I missed you so much."

"You said that," you say quietly, a little breathless.

Eddie looks up at you, something playful about him as he says, "I know. It's fucking true as all hell, too. What do you want from Marino's? I'll get you two if you promise not to go away again."

"What am I gonna do with two pizzas?" you ask, the warmth of him seeping down into your shirt.

Eddie digs a nail into the popcorn lid, face turned to you but gaze on the bucket. "Uh, eat them. Eat one tonight, take one with you tomorrow for breakfast."

"I don't want two pizzas, just one is good. I'm gonna eat all your popcorn anyway, I won't have room."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, eyes flying to your face. "You think so, huh?"

Your heart in your mouth, a shudder coursing down your chest, you have a moment where you think for sure he knows, he's found out, and he doesn't care —he looks like he wants you to confess.

What a fantastically dangerous idea. You avert your gaze and thrust your bag of gifts and candy into his arms. "You'll be too full for popcorn after those."

You can feel his gaze on your cheek for a little while longer, but eventually he moves from your shoulders, laughing quietly as he digs through his new things.

"You're so awesome," he says, pulling out the keychain you got him. It's an electric guitar with an enamel body the same colours as the flag. "I'm putting this on my keys right now."

Eddie kisses your cheek. "Thank you," he adds.

He stands and rounds the couch to go get his keys. You feel your cheek with a trembling hand. Eddie kisses you, he hugs you, he has a thousand affections and all of them set you aflame. Sighing, you let your cheek drop into your hand. It's hopeless.

He watches from the doorway as you sigh. His smile can't be described any other way —he's infatuated. The sooner you realise, the better, but for now he's really enjoying the run up.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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hoshifighting · 3 months ago

Text

seokmin as your sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar mommy x sugar baby relationship, smut, mentions of alcohol, rough sex. — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Reaction)

you didn’t expect your birthday to go down like this. a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant, surrounded by a few close friends, was all you had in mind. you were the type to enjoy your peace, the steady hum of classical music in the background, a glass of red wine in hand. the kind of person who didn’t need the bells and whistles, content with the simple pleasures. but all that shifted when seokmin walked through the door.

he wasn’t thaaat loud, not like the friends he was with, but there was something about him that drew your eye. maybe it was the way his laughter seemed to brighten the room, or how his smile reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. whatever it was, you were hooked from the moment you saw him.

your friends noticed too, nudging you playfully, urging you to do something you normally wouldn’t. and for once, you listened. you ordered him a drink, sending it over with a quick nod to the waiter, trying to play it cool. when the waiter delivered the drink to seokmin, you watched him glance over at you, surprise flickering in his eyes before that shy smile spread across his lips. he raised his glass in thanks, and you could feel your cheeks warm under his gaze.

“he’s cute,” one of your friends whispered, leaning closer to you. “you should talk to him.”

you laughed it off, brushing it away with a wave of your hand, but the thought lingered. then your friend decided to take things into her own hands. she called the waiter, ordered a ridiculous dessert with a flaming candle, and before you knew it, the entire restaurant was singing happy birthday to you, including seokmin and his friends.

you clapped along, trying to mask your embarrassment, but you couldn’t help but smile when seokmin joined in, his voice somehow louder than the rest. when the song ended, he leaned over, wished you a happy birthday, and then, as he left, he slipped a napkin onto your table. it was only after he was gone that you saw the number scribbled on it, and your heart skipped a beat.

you didn’t wait long to text him, just a simple “thanks for the birthday song, let’s grab a drink sometime.” his response was immediate, and the rest, as they say, was history.

it started off casual. drinks after work, long conversations about everything and nothing, seokmin’s laughter filling the spaces in between. he was charming, yes, but there was a rawness to him that you found intoxicating. he wasn’t like anyone you’d met before—genuine, kind, with an edge that made your heart tu-dum.

you found yourself wanting to spoil him, to see that shy smile whenever you surprised him with something new. it began with little things—a nice dinner, a designer shirt, tickets to a show he mentioned he wanted to see. but it quickly escalated. you couldn’t help yourself; he was just so grateful for everything you did, always just enjoying whatever came his way.

seokmin never took anything for granted, and that made you want to give him more. paying for his bills, upgrading his apartment, even sending him on a vacation when you noticed how stressed he was from work. he was your sugar baby, but it didn’t feel transactional. it felt… right.

and then there was when you made love. when you fuck.

you discovered that seokmin wasn’t just the sweet, shy guy he appeared to be. behind closed doors, he was rough, almost primal. the first time you slept together, came crashing down in a flurry of hands, teeth, and sweat.

he was all over you, pushing you up against the wall the second you were inside your apartment, his lips attacking your neck as his hands roamed your ass.

his hands gripped your hips, hard enough to leave marks, as he pulled you against him, grinding his erection into you. you moaned into his mouth, your own hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

“bedroom,” you managed to gasp out, and he wasted no time in lifting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you there. once inside, he threw you onto the bed, his eyes opaque as he stripped off his clothes, revealing the body you’d only caught glimpses of before.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you whispered, but he just smirked, crawling over you, his hands already tugging at your clothes, desperate to get them off.

“shut up,” he muttered, but there was a playful sparkle in his stare, one that made your pussy throb. “i’m gonna ruin you.”

and he did. seokmin wasn’t gentle. he bit down on your shoulder as he entered you, making you cry out. his hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head as he thrust into you, hard and fast, setting a brutal pace that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

seokmin cums soon after, his hips slamming against yours one final time as he came, his grip on your wrists tightening as he rode out his own release.

for a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room your ragged breathing. then, slowly, seokmin released your wrists, his hands gentle now as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice back to that sweet, caring tone you were used to.

you nodded, still catching your breath, a small smile playing on your lips.

he chuckled, rolling onto his side and pulling you against him, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel safe, cherished. “good. because i’m not done with you yet.”

and with that, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack that made you choke, your body already reacting, craving more.

“i told you,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “i’m gonna ruin you.”

and he did, again and again, until the lines between sugar baby and sugar mommy blurred completely, leaving nothing but dirty sex with the john walker bags looking at the two of you from the floor.

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cherrrydragon · 4 months ago

Text

➤ sweet

← back to main masterlist

read it on ao3

SUMMARY ↳ Peter Parker is sweet. The kind of sweet you can't get enough of. It kind of ruins your life. One day, during lunch, it’s the same as any other. You three are sitting together, not really eating your food, too focused on talking. Then, Peter speaks up, and it kind of throws off your whole existence. “Did Liz get a new top?” His face is resting on his hand as he stares at the girl. You’ve always thought Liz was pretty, and what makes that even more unfair is that she’s nice. She helped you find your way to your class on time, and you have a bad habit of being willing to die for people once they show you even the smallest amount of kindness. pairing: tom!peter parker x fem!reader warnings: just reader having to watch the person she loves not love her. so basically all of us with our fav fictional characters tags/notes: MAJOR pining on reader's side, (not actually) unrequited love, 7k of this is just straight yap my bad, happy ending! wc: 8.5k

Peter Parker is a sweet boy.

He always has been. Even when people shunned him for no reason, he never shed that kind demeanor. He has remained unwaveringly gentle and compassionate.

Your first interaction with him is simply asking him for a pencil. You’ve just rushed into class, barely making it before the bell rang. As you fumble through your bag, you realize you forgot to pack a pencil. Hesitantly, you turn to the boy sitting next to you.

"Hey, uh, do you have an extra pencil I could borrow?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

Peter looks up from his notebook, his eyes meeting yours with a friendly, albeit slightly surprised, expression. He quickly reaches into his bag and hands you a pencil.

“Uh, yeah. here,” he smiled unsurely, handing you a pencil.

“Thanks,” you smile. You notice how he keeps his gaze on you for a moment before turning away.

The rest of the class goes by smoothly, thanks to Peter's pencil. As the teacher drones on, you can't help but sneak glances at Peter, noticing his focused expression as he takes notes diligently. There's something about him that draws you in—a quiet determination mixed with a genuine kindness.

When the bell rings, you suck in a breath and turn to him. “Hey,” you start, extending your hand holding his pencil. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Peter takes the pencil, his fingers brushing against yours. “Uh, yeah. Yeah! No problem.” You think the way he stumbles over words is pretty cute.

Time to be bold. Go for it, [Name]! “Can I sit with you at lunch?”

Peter's eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by your request. He hesitates for a moment, then nods with a shy smile. “I just, I don’t really sit with anyone and you seem nice so–”

“Yes,” he blurts out, wide-eyed. “That’s cool.”

You feel a mix of relief and excitement. “Okay, see you then?”

He nods, a little late. You smile and walk off to your next class, feeling buzzy. You really are looking forward to knowing Peter.

You didn’t really notice him before. He was always in the background, never too far but never too close. He was just a boy you didn’t know, but knew of. But you saw, saw how he was always there, saw how he held the door open for others, saw how he kept his head down and never bothered anyone.

As you anticipate lunch, you imagine conversations, shared laughs, and maybe even a little bit of awkwardness, but in the best way possible. The anticipation grew with each passing period.

Woah, maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself. He might think you’re, like, weird. You really hope he doesn’t.

As lunch finally approaches, you gather your things and head to the cafeteria, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You scan the room, looking for Peter, and spot him sitting not alone at a table near the window. There’s a boy next to him. His friend probably (who else would it be?). Taking a deep breath, you make your way over.

"Hey, Peter," you greet with a smile as you reach his table.

Peter looks up from his tray, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. "Hey," he responds, a bit more confidently than before.

You turn your attention over to his friend, who is looking at Peter, a bit surprised. “Hello.”

“Hey,” he greets you, discreetly elbowing Peter. “I’m Ned.”

“[Name],” you say.

“Why are you sitting here?” he asks bluntly. You blink at the abruptness of it as Peter hisses, “Ned!”

“Uh,” you stutter, suddenly feeling out of place. “I can go if you want–”

“No!” yelps Peter. “He’s just being stupid. What he means is that, well, we don’t really have any friends. But we’d–” he spares a subtle glare at Ned, “–like to be yours. If that’s what you want.”

His eyes bore into yours earnestly. “Please stay.”

You pause for a moment, processing Peter's earnest plea. Ned looks a bit sheepish now, realizing his bluntness may have come off the wrong way. You glance between them and smile, feeling your nerves ease a bit.

The three of you start chatting, and you quickly find yourself laughing at their silly and nerdy jokes. You learn Peter is really into science and chemistry.

“You know Peter has an internship at Stark Industries?” says Ned, leaning in.

Peter stares at Ned hard. “Oh, really?” you hum.

Peter quickly tries to downplay it, waving his hand dismissively. "It's not a big deal, really. Just a lot of organizing and data entry," he says, clearly trying to stay humble.

You shrug. “I think it’s cool.” You do, you’re impressed.

A hint of a smile crawls on Peter’s face.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, you feel a pang of disappointment. But Peter looks at you with a hopeful expression. "Um, do you want to sit with us again tomorrow?"

You stare at him earnestly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he nods, more so to himself. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

From then on, you become a part of their group, officially Peter’s friend. You learn that Peter is not just smart, but also incredibly kind-hearted. He always goes out of his way to help others, even if it means sacrificing his own time. The bond between you strengthens, and soon you're sharing inside jokes and stories about your classes.

You somehow manage to land yourself a spot on the Academic Decathlon (no, not because Peter’s on the team). But, to be honest, you wouldn’t have tried if not for him. You’ve never considered yourself all that smart, you don’t really try that hard in school. Peter says you’re ‘naturally smart.’ You never gave it much thought, but a compliment from him makes you happy.

“You got this,” Peter assures you before every practice.

One day, during lunch, it’s the same as any other. You three are sitting together, not really eating your food, too focused on talking. Then, Peter speaks up, and it kind of throws off your whole existence.

“Did Liz get a new top?” His face is resting on his hand as he stares at the girl. You’ve always thought Liz was pretty, and what makes that even more unfair is that she’s nice. She helped you find your way to your class on time, and you have a bad habit of being willing to die for people once they show you even the smallest amount of kindness.

“No. We’ve seen that before, but never with that skirt,” replies Ned.

Liz waves at a couple of girls that greet her. You think her voice is pretty.

“We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy though,” notes Peter, still looking at her.

“Too late,” comes a voice at the end of the table. A girl, unbothered and doing her own thing. Oh, that’s MJ. “You guys are losers,” she says, unapologetic. “Except for [Name]. Hi, [Name].”

You wave at her. “Hi, MJ.”

Peter raises his hand in confusion, looking at you for answers. You shrug, not having any. That’s just how MJ is.

“Well, then why do you sit with us?” asks Ned.

MJ flicks her hair out of her face. “Because I don’t have any friends.”

And ain’t that the truth.

“Let’s move to the next question,” hums Liz, flicking through index cards. “What is the heaviest naturally-occurring element?”

You’re not really paying much attention to practice, even though you really should be. You’re too busy staring at Peter.

“Peter, it’s nationals,” you hear. “Is there now way you could take one weekend off?”

Wait, Peter’s not going to nationals?

“I can’t go to Washington. If Mr. Stark needs me, I have to make sure I’m here.” Well, you do like a man who has his priorities straight.

“You’ve never even been in the same room as Tony Stark,” says Flash, doing absolutely jack shit across the room. His voice grates your ears.

“Wait, what’s happening?”

“Peter’s not going to Washington.”

“No, no, no, no.” Felt that.

“Really? Right before Nationals?” asks Liz, wincing at him disapprovingly.

“He already quit marching band and robotics lab,” hums MJ, reading her book. Your fellow members turn to look at her. You know that, but why does she? “I’m not obsessed with him. Just very observant.” Well, you are obsessed with him. Just a little. A healthy amount.

Liz says something to Flash, and at the mention of him you automatically zone him out. You spend the time staring at Peter, who briefly glances at you before looking behind him at the ticking clock.

The rest of the day he’s tapping his fingers against the desk and moving his leg up and down. You barely manage to catch him at the door before he runs off. Peter looks at you, momentarily startled as you catch up to him. He gives you a quick smile, though you can tell his mind is elsewhere.

“Peter,” you say, frowning slightly. “Why aren’t you coming?”

He shrugs, trying to appear casual. “You know already, [Name]. The internship is really important. I gotta be ready at any time.”

“Tony Stark can’t spare you one day?” You raise a brow at him. “I think that goes against some kind of labor law.”

Peter furrows his brows, taken aback. “No, it’s not like that,” he defends quickly, shifting uncomfortably. “Mr. Stark… relies on me. I don’t wanna let him down.”

You give him a sympathetic look. “You’re really smart, Peter. There’s no way that’s possible.”

His gaze softens, smiling secretly to himself. You lightly punch his shoulder, and he gives you a mock offended look. “You’re the whole reason I even joined, and now you’re bailing on the most important day? Fake friends, I swear.” You’re mostly joking, it’s not that big of a deal. But you still would’ve liked him to be there with you.

He chuckles softly, rubbing the spots you hit him (dramatic, you barely touched him). “You’re smart, [Name]. You don’t need me.”

Yeah, you don’t need him, but you want him.

He grabs your hand and squeezes it tightly, briefly, before turning and walking away. “I’ll make it up to you, promise!”

Your heart skips a beat, at both his gesture and his words. “Okay,” you say softly, knowing he’s already gone.

“Hi. I’m Captain America. Whether you’re in the classroom or on the battlefield…”

You wonder how they convinced this guy to stand in front of a camera and yap to a bunch of high schoolers who just simply don’t care. Peter and Ned are mumbling about something, too hushed for you to hear.

“Isn’t he like a war criminal, now?” you mutter. Peter leans in to you to hear better.

He chuckles softly, breath tickling your ear. His proximity sends a warm shiver down your spine. “Sucks, he’s kind of cute.”

Peter chokes, looking at you in surprise. “In, like, a celebrity crush kind of way,” you shrug.

Peter’s face flushes a soft pink, and he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Yeah, um, I guess? I didn’t think you’d like older guys…?” He trails off, fumbling with his fingers. His awkwardness only makes him more endearing.

Ned snickers beside him. “You’re not wrong. Captain America’s got that whole classic charm thing going on.”

Peter shoots him a look. “Dude.”

It’s only natural you and MJ pair up for the exercises. Though, to be fair, you’re not really doing much exercising. Instead, you’re too busy ogling Peter.

“You’re down horrendously bad,” says MJ, unapologetic.

You blink, looking down at her. “Huh.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She looks unimpressed by your attempt to seem unaware.

The way Peter effortlessly does pull-ups is doing something to you, and it’s really embarrassing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do,” she snorts. You watch as Peter flicks his attention over to… Liz. Always Liz. Never you.

“Is he staring at her again?” MJ asks, looking over. Your heart sinks a little.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mutter. “He’s just my friend.”

MJ raises an eyebrow, studying you for a moment before shrugging. “If you say so.”

“Peter knows Spider-Man!”

The entire gym looks over at Ned and Peter. Um. What was that, Ned? Peter gets up, sputtering and denying Ned’s claim.

“They’re friends,” says Ned.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Your nose scrunches up at Flash’s words. MJ catches it and nods her approval.

Peter glances around nervously, his eyes meeting yours for a split second before darting away. You feel bad for him, even if he doesn’t have need for anyone’s pity. Peter is cool, and really smart. He’s also really cute, and he bites his lip when he’s focused on something. He can’t sit still for very long, and he has a bad habit of running his fingers through his hair when–

Yikes, girl. Focus.

Wait, Liz’s party?

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight. You’re more than welcome to come,” she nods, demeanor kind of shy.

“Having a party?” Peter’s voice is breathy, and it makes your fingers clench.

The bell rings before Peter can decline (or accept, because why would he ever decline?) and Liz spares him a look as she walks away. Peter looks up at the ceiling in frustration, turning to Ned to snarl something at him.

Probably upset because Flash made fun of him in front of the girl he likes, you think miserably.

You help MJ up off the floor, waving her goodbye as she leaves. Your legs are barely able to talk you towards the door, wanting to go over to Peter. You can’t take your eyes off him, but you know you have to, so you tear them away and walk out.

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Peter's feelings for Liz are clear, but you can't deny your own growing affection for him.

“[Name]!” Peter’s voice is very recognizable (to you at least). You hear his footsteps rush over, coming to a stop by your side. You turn to face him, your heart pounding. "Hey, Peter," you say, trying to sound casual.

He looks at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something else you can't quite place. "Hey, uh, I just wanted to say... about what Ned said earlier. I mean, he's just being, you know, Ned."

You nod. “It’s okay Peter, I think it’s cool you know Spider-Man.” Everything about him is cool.

Peter’s eyes widen slightly at your words. "Really? You do?" He seems both relieved and surprised by your reaction. He crosses his arms, trying to seem casual. “And, uh… what do you think about Spider-Man?”

Peter's question catches you off guard. You stare at him, a bit taken aback by his curiosity. “Well, I think he’s a hero,” you shrug. “Reliable.”

Peter kind of… stares. In awe of you. Then he snaps out of it, cheeks flushing as he looks down.

He clears his throat, changing the subject. “So, uh… you going to Liz’s party?”

You hadn't considered it, but the idea of spending more time with Peter, even if Liz is there, is tempting. Even so…

You purse your lips. “Probably not.”

He furrows his brows. “What? Who am I gonna go with?”

You snort. “Ned? Who else?”

“You.” He says it so absolutely it almost makes you fall to your knees. The idea is both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking. The last thing you want is to feel out of place at a party, especially with your growing feelings for Peter.

“You want me to go with you?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant even though your heart is racing.

Peter nods earnestly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re up for it. It’d be… nice.”

“I’ll… think about it.”

Peter’s face brightens up instantly, a mixture of relief and excitement evident. “Ok. Cool! I’ll, um. Hope to see you there.” And then he’s off to do his own thing.

When you arrive at Liz's house, you immediately spot MJ, and it puts your mind at ease. She’s in her own world, happy to snack on the foods there. She looks up as you approach.

“Sup.”

“Hi.”

You stand together awkwardly. Well, you’re awkward, and she’s cool. The party is in full swing, with music playing and people milling about, making the large living room feel even more crowded.

It’s embarrassing how fast you spot Peter. It’s as soon as he arrives. He’s decided to keep it casual, but you think he looks good. Really good. God, MJ was right, you are down bad.

Speaking of which, she nudges you and nods her head in Peter and Ned’s direction. “You should go say hi to him.”

“But…” Liz is there. To be fair, she’s probably only greeting them. Saying ‘thanks for coming’ you know. But even so… you’re not sure you want to watch Peter’s attention stay on Liz when you’re also there.

You take a deep breath and muster up the courage to approach Peter. MJ gives you a supportive nod, and you make your way over to them.

“Hi, Peter,” you greet, trying to sound casual despite the fluttering in your chest.

Peter turns to you, his face lighting up with a genuine smile that makes your stomach flip. “[Name]! You’re here.” His eyes are warm and welcoming, and for a moment, you forget about the rest of the party.

You nod, peering around him to greet Ned. “Hi, Ned.”

He gives you a small wave. “Hey, [Name].”

Peter's smile widens as he steps a little closer to you, clearly excited that you're there. His eyes roam your figure. “You look good.”

Your face warms. “Thanks. You too.”

“Dude. Peter,” says Ned, grabbing Peter’s arm. He begins to pull Peter away. “Sorry, [Name]. Gotta talk to him about something.” Peter looks affronted by Ned’s behavior, sending an apologetic glance your way.

You watch as Peter and Ned head off to the side, leaving you standing by yourself. A little awkwardly, you try to blend in with the crowd, scanning the room.

“Penis Parker, what’s up?”

Ugh, Flash. Who let him on the sound desk? He says a few mocking words, and suddenly Peter’s walking off somewhere.

You jog to catch up to him. “Peter, please don’t listen to Flash. He’s just an asshole.”

Peter stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a mixture of surprise and frustration. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, clearly struggling to find the right words.

“[Name],” he starts, voice honey sweet, “I’m not worried about Flash, I just…” He looks around for a moment, searching for whatever words he wants to say. “I gotta go do something. I’ll be back.”

You watch as Peter rushes out of the house, deflated. You feel a mixture of concern and confusion. The party goes on as if nothing happened, but your thoughts are entirely focused on him.

In a moment of impulsiveness, you decide to follow him. The cool night air hits you as you step out onto the porch, scanning the surroundings for any sign of Peter. Damn, where did he go? He’s fast. You walk down the front steps, glancing around. “Peter!” you call out, trying to catch his attention.

A movement catches your eye. Around the side of the house, on top of the neighboring ledge, there’s someone there. Your ears can barely pick up the rustling of clothes. Weird place to change clothes. How the hell did that guy even up there?

Wait a damn minute.

That guy is Peter. How the hell did he get up there so damn quick?

You keep yourself pressed against the wall, peeking around the corner. Why the hell is Peter even changing his clothes? He looks fine. Good, even. Wait, he’s changing his clothes. Maybe you shouldn't be spying on him, that’s weird. Oh, wait, he’s wearing something underneath. Something red and black, with web patterns on and a spider symbol on his chest.

…

Oh. Oh!

What the fuck!

As Peter pulls his undershirt off, you get a glimpse of him in his full Spider-Man glory. Holy shit, Peter Parker is Spider-Man. You knew there was something special about him, but this? This is a whole different level. The red and black suit, with its sleek, form-fitting design, is unmistakable. The spider emblem on his chest is a dead giveaway.

You swallow down the knot in your throat, willing your body to turn and go back inside.

He doesn’t come back.

You leave when Flash starts his ‘when I say Penis, you say Parker’ chant.

The yellow blazer feels tacky, but you’re required to wear it as part of the Academic Decathlon. Though, MJ isn’t wearing hers, so maybe you can get away with taking it off until you get to D.C.. But MJ is MJ.

“Hey, it’s Peter!”

What.

You turn around, seeing Peter run up to your group. Peter’s face is bright with excitement as he approaches your group. His usual nervousness is replaced by an eagerness you haven’t seen before. It’s like a different side of him is on display.

“I was hoping I could rejoin the team,” he says, looking at Liz.

And he’s welcomed back with open arms. He decides to sit next to you. You’re pretty sure because it’s closest to Liz, and because Ned has decided to sit in the back. You wonder if Ned knows his identity.

He nudges you with his arm. You’re snapped back to reality, looking at him. He’s staring at you, brows furrowed just the smallest bit. You feel your traitorous heart skip a beat, like it always does when he’s around.

“You okay? You’re quiet,” he murmurs, voice low.

You manage to nod, not having much to say. Are you mad that Peter kept this secret from you? No, of course not. There was never any obligation for him to tell you, or even anyone. It’s a pretty big secret to have, after all. Though, now you wonder if him being Spider-Man has something to do with that Stark internship…

Peter’s eyes linger on you, a mix of concern and curiosity. You can sense he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling. It’s a little uncomfortable, you’ve never really had to lie to him before, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to. You’ve just discovered one of the biggest secrets in your life, and it’s about someone who’s become so important to you.

His phone starts ringing. You peak at it, someone by the name of ‘Happy’. Weird name, but okay. He moves to the back of the bus to take, settling in next to Ned.

You sigh, slouching in your seat. You can’t believe your life.

At least you get to room with MJ. You’re just about to fall asleep when Liz comes knocking on your door, saying that she and the rest of the team are going to sneak down to the pool. MJ decides she’s going to come. For ‘enrichment’ she says. You on the other hand… kind of just want to stay inside right now.

Until another knock on your door rouses you from your would-be sleep. Again . You grumble as you make your way to your door, opening it to find Peter, his face a mix of uncertainty and hopefulness. “Hey,” he says, looking nervous. His hood is over his head. You think he’s got his suit under there.

You don’t bother trying to fix up your appearance since you truly doubt he doesn’t see you like that. “Hello?”

“Uh,” he mumbles, gesturing away from him. “You… weren’t with the others. Are you not going to go with them? To the pool?

You shake your head. “No, not feeling it.”

“Oh,” he nods, like it was obvious. “Are you, sick or something?”

“No.” You don’t mean to be blunt with him, but you don’t really know how to act around him anymore.

“Oh, Okay.” He shifts back and forth on his feet. “Can I come in?”

You open the door wider to let him in, never able to say no to him. Peter steps are hesitant and awkward, deciding to sit on the leaning against your bed, while you sit on the mattress.

“So..?” you prompt.

Peter licks his lips, looking down to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie. “I, um, wanted to talk. About... the party. Liz’s party.” For a moment, your heart races. Did he know you were there? He glances up, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “I didn’t mean to, uh, leave you hanging. I just... had to go take care of something.”

You nod, understanding differently to what he knows. “It’s okay, Peter. I get it. I mean, you had... you had something important to do.”

Peter takes a deep breath, clearly relieved by your reaction. “I just... I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you or anything. I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.”

Peter’s earnestness tugs at your chest. He’s going to give you a damn sweet tooth. You can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and frustration. “Peter, it’s fine,” you say softly. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

He shakes his head, his expression earnest. “But I do. I care about you, and I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us.”

Your heart skips another traitorous beat at his words. His sincerity is disarming, and you find yourself wanting to reassure him, even though you’re the one grappling with this newfound knowledge about his double life. Why does he have to say things like that?

“Are you not going to the pool?” you ask, gesturing to his get-up.

He scratches his cheek, shaking his head. “No I… gotta… do something.” His voice gets quieter the more he speaks, realizing he’s just quoted the very thing he just apologized for. You snort, unable to help yourself in reaching out a brushing a curl away from his face. His eyes soften, and he reaches out, tentatively taking your hand.

Your fingers brush against his, and there's a moment of silence as you both just look at each other. Peter’s grip is gentle, as if he's afraid of pushing too much, too soon. You feel the warmth of his hand, and for a second, you forget about the secrets and the confusion.

After a moment, Peter clears his throat, his expression shifting back to a more familiar, awkward smile. You snap back to reality. “You should, uh, probably go do that thing.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes. “Yup. Gonna go do that thing now.”

He’s out the door before you can blink.

Peter doesn’t come back in time for the Academic Decathlon. MJ wins you the last point, anyway.

You’re just out of earshot as Ned talks to what you assume is Peter on the phone. You look away when Liz takes the phone and begins to speak to him.

Your coach decides it’ll be fun to have a tour of the Washington Monument. You zone out during the long elevator ride, thoughts drifting to Peter. Always Peter. You wonder if you were his girlfriend, would he look to you to patch him up when patrol gets rough? Would he take you away, swinging through the night while he tells you how pretty you look–

There’s a bright light, and everything goes deafening as a loud sound explodes within the elevator. Everything comes to a stop. Ned throws his backpack on the ground, frightened.

“Oh my God. Look at the ceiling.” There’s terrifying scorch marks on it.

“Just stay calm, everyone.”

“Oh, we are all going to die here.”

You don’t listen to anymore of what anyone has to say, too focused on steadying yourself against the wall. Holy shit. Peter better be hauling ass back here, now .

Security pushes the failing doors open, and the elevator hatch is opened as your group is prepared for evacuation. It’s a scary process, and you feel like you’re just waiting for the elevator to give up and start plummeting.

Flash, always an asshole, shoves Liz out of the way, taking the trophy with him. You scoff in disbelief as he says, “Take my trophy!” ready to give him a piece of your mind, because by God, you are in a life or death situation and he still finds the time of day to be himself–

Speaking of death.

The elevator just gave up.

You are actively falling to your resting place right now.

You can’t hear anything over the sound of everybody else’s scream. You can’t even bring yourself to scream. Even as you’re about to die, you hold yourself back, just as you always have. You’ve held yourself back when it comes to school, not putting in as much effort as you could’ve, and you’ve held yourself back from telling Peter how you feel.

Now you’ll never get too.

Except the elevator jerks to a stop, almost sending you to the floor.

There’s a web attached to the top. You can barely see a red clad figure connected to it.

Nevermind, maybe you will get to.

And then the doors he’s held up against break off the hinges and you’re falling again, spider included like a package deal. The damned box catches itself on something, and the love of your life has a rough landing as he falls into the elevator with you. Oof.

Unfortunately his impact knocks the elevator off, and you’re falling. Again. If you make it out of this alive, you’re going to take a five year nap. Peter, with all of his amazing smarts, sends a web to the top of the shaft and plants himself upside down in the elevator, stopping the thing.

He clears his throat. “Hey, how you doing? Don’t worry. I got you.” Why do you love this loser.

You stand with your whole body tense as Peter makes the perilous journey of dragging your group back up, slowly and steadily. You’re gripping the handrail so tightly your knuckles turn white. Every jolt and creak of the elevator feels like a death sentence. But Peter – no, Spider-Man – is pulling you up, inch by inch.

Ned is out first, then Mr. Harrington, and Liz clutches your hand tightly as it’s just the two of you left.

But then the floor shoots out from under your feet. Liz, ever so pretty and ever so brave, jumps out, reaching a hand for Spider-Man.

She misses, and for a split second it’s just you and her falling. And then there’s a thwip sound and suddenly you’re not falling. You’re just hanging. Hanging by a thread. Or a web, you should say.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Spider-Man grips Liz’s hand so tight and so assuredly, you feel like everything’s okay. Liz’s hand feels warm. Really warm. Probably all the sweat from it.

The sweat from it.

Sweat that’s making your grip come loose.

Liz looks down, terrified. “She’s slipping.”

“What–” chokes Peter.

And your hand falls from her grip. This time, you let yourself scream. The mask Peter wears gets tinier and tinier as you fall. The sensation of free-fall is overwhelming. It’s like you’re completely weightless. You wonder if this is how Peter feels when he’s swinging through New York. You also wonder he ever feels the twisting of your stomach.

You feel something wrap around your waist tightly. You’re yanked back up with a sharp tug. The warmth of an arm is something you’re not all that foreign to. You’ve been hugged by your family and friends before. But not like this. It… kind of feels like home.

“I got you, [Name].” Is whispered in your ear like a prayer. “I won’t let you fall.”

Peter’s voice in your ear is like a lifeline, pulling you out of the chaos and fear. The sheer relief of his presence makes your heart pound in your chest. You cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he swings you both out of the elevator shaft and onto the relative safety of the doorway.

You can hear the panicked voices of your friends, but all you can focus on is Peter, his breath coming in quick gasps, his suit slightly torn but his grip on you unyielding.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice trembling slightly.

You can only nod, your throat too tight with emotion to speak. Tears blur your vision as you look at him, your best friend, your hero, the boy you've been in love with for so long.

"You saved me," you whisper, your voice breaking.

Peter tilts his head, voice a little wobbly but genuine. "Couldn't let you fall," he says simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He gently lets go of you, leaving you to connect back to the real world again.

“So, uh, is everyone okay?” And just like that, things go back to the way they were.

Then the piece of metal he’s hanging upside-down from breaks off, and he’s falling down the shaft.

He’ll be fine.

The school news plays on a nearby team, retelling the events in which you almost died. Weird flex, but okay.

You’re on your way to your next class when arms suddenly wrap around you. You blink. Uh…

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” says a sweet voice. Ah, Peter. Who else but Peter? You smile and melt into his embrace. “Hi, Peter.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if checking for any hidden injuries. “You sure you’re alright? That was... intense.”

You shrug. “Yeah.” Then, you feel like being mean. Only a little bit. As a treat. “How would you know, though? You weren’t there.”

Peter’s eyes widen in confusion, a frown pulling at his lips. “What do you mean? I was there. I–” Then he stops himself. He was there, just not as Peter. You raise a brow.

Peter’s face goes through a series of expressions—confusion, realization, and finally, a nervous chuckle. “Oh. Right.” He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just–”

You roll your eyes halfheartedly. “Had to do that thing, I know.” Maybe you’d be more upset if you didn’t know any better, but you do. Maybe you’re just tired from everything.

Peter’s apology falters as he looks at you with those big, apologetic eyes. He seems so earnest, so genuinely concerned. He gives you those puppy dog eyes, filled with guilt and embarrassment.

“Look,” you say, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, “it’s fine. Really. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“Come on,” he whines halfheartedly. “Let me make it up to you.”

You look at Peter, a mix of exhaustion and affection in your eyes. Despite everything that happened, you can’t help but find his earnestness endearing. “Alright,” you say, managing a small smile. “Here’s my proposal.”

Peter's eyes light up with a hopeful glimmer, and he leans in closer, eager to hear your proposal. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day lifting off your shoulders as you prepare to make your request.

“If neither of us get a homecoming date,” you begin, watching as Peter’s eyes flick back and forth between yours, “we’ll go together.”

Peter's eyes widen with surprise and a hint of nervousness. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, processing your proposal. He takes a deep breath, as if trying to steady his racing heart, and then he nods with a flushed face.

"Deal," he says, his voice steadying. "But let's hope neither of us ends up dateless, okay? I mean, it's homecoming. It should be fun."

His words kind of sting. He basically just said he hopes he can find a date that’s not you. You’re not sure if the fact that he’s willing to go with you if things don’t work out is a good thing or not.

“Yeah, let’s hope,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light. Peter gives you a reassuring smile, though there’s an awkward tension between you now.

“Parker, my office.”

Peter looks at you exasperated. You shrug. Looks like Peter has detention.

The next couple of days, Peter looks down in the dumps.

He just seems… less like himself. Still as sweet as ever, holding doors open for you and carrying your bag. It’s hard to miss the way his usual enthusiasm is replaced by a constant air of melancholy.

You notice him moping in the hallways, his usual banter replaced by awkward silences. In class, he doesn’t seem any different, but you can tell the way he zones out when he’s not answering a question.

You try to give him space, but it’s hard to ignore the sense of worry you feel. You don’t want to pry, but you also don’t want him to sink into a deeper funk. Perhaps it’s in your nature to want to make him happy.

May greets you with a smile when she sees you on your doorstep. She’s always been kind to you. Maybe too kind. May always let little teasing comments about you too getting together slip. Peter always waved away her comments, chuckling awkwardly and saying ‘she’s just kidding’. Not very healthy for your heart.

Peter’s sitting on his bed, lost in thought. He jerks up as soon as you enter, staring at you in surprise. “[Name]!”

“Hi,” you greet, coming to sit next to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I can leave if you want,” you hum, point a thumb out the door. It’s mostly a joke, you really hope he doesn’t actually want you to leave.

Peter looks a bit flustered by your presence. “No, no, don’t go. I just… didn’t know you were coming.”

You lean back on your hands. “Well, when you’ve been acting weird the last couple of days, I’m gonna get worried.”

Peter slumps in on himself, sighing. He contemplates for a second before meeting your eyes. “I lost the internship.”

The internship. The Stark internship. The one you’re pretty sure is a cover for him being Spider-Man. Who hasn’t been active in a couple of days. Oh.

You give him a sympathetic look. “Peter, I’m so sorry.”

Peter nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah, well, it’s my own fault. I was… I messed up. Tried to overcompensate, and it didn’t work out.”

You can see the frustration and disappointment in his eyes. He’s always been so driven, so dedicated. To see him like this, struggling with something that clearly matters to him, tugs at your heartstrings.

“It’s not your fault,” you say gently, trying to offer him some comfort. “Sometimes things just don’t go as planned, no matter how hard you try.”

Peter offers a small, bitter smile. “I guess. It’s just… I don’t know.” He looks in a faraway corner. “It was all I had.”

You purse your lips, wanting to scream ‘you have me!’, but you can’t bring yourself to.

Peter clears his throat. “At least I got that date with Liz.”

…Huh?

You think there’s a ringing in your ears. Your heart sinks as Peter mentions Liz. It feels like a punch to the gut. You try to mask your surprise, keeping your tone steady. "Wait, you got a date with Liz?"

“Yeah…” he chuckles shyly. “I asked her to homecoming. She said yes.”

You nod slowly, trying to process this new information. It's not exactly a blow to your heart, but it's definitely unsettling. Peter, the person you’ve had feelings for, is going out with someone else.

Though, you shouldn’t be surprised, really. You knew Peter liked Liz. If the way he stared at her wasn’t obvious enough, then the fact that he asked her to hoco is. And the fact that she said yes… God, you need to get over yourself. It’s not the end of the world. You just…

You really wanted to go with him.

“So… who’s your date?” he asks, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

You bring your legs up, wrapping your arms around them. “Nobody. I think… I’m not gonna go.”

Peter’s face falls at your words. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it, clearly at a loss for words. “Why not?”

You shrug. “I don’t have a date. Don’t wanna go alone.”

He furrows his brows. “I thought you did.”

Now it’s your turn to look confused. “No. Why did you think that?”

“You…” he trails off, looking lost. “I heard you. Talking about your crush”

“When did you hear that?”

He gulps, turning away guiltily. “In. Gym… class.”

You take a moment to think back. The only time you ever talked about your crush in gym was with MJ, that time Ned mentioned Peter knows Spider-Man. But that time…

“How did you hear that?” you ask, kind of knowing the answer. “You were, like, twenty feet away from me.”

He blushes. “I, uh… have really good hearing?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Whatever. At least you didn’t mention Peter’s name. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t like me back. So.”

Peter’s face softens as he processes your words, a mixture of guilt and concern evident in his expression. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Don’t be. He likes someone else. Can’t be helped.”

Peter is silent for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if trying to gauge your feelings. There’s a tension in the air, a weight that seems to hang between you. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

You breathe, patting your thighs as you stand up. “Hope you have fun, though.”

Peter watches you go, feeling like he missed something.

True to your word, you don’t go to homecoming. You spend the night watching a movie and eating popcorn. You don’t cry, but you do sniffle.

You catch wind of the battle between this guy (Liz’s dad , holy shit, you hope she’s doing okay) and Spider-Man. The next time you see him at school, you run up to him.

“Peter!” you shout.

Peter snaps out of his thoughts, turning to you. A small smile creeps up on his face at the sight of you. “Hey, what’s up–”

His words stutter to a stop as your arms wrap around him. Peter freezes for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden hug. Slowly, his arms come up to return the embrace, holding you tightly. He feels warm and solid against you, a comforting presence despite everything that's happened.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

You melt into his embrace. “Just glad you’re okay.”

He pulls back to look at you, arms dropping to hang around your waist. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You can’t help yourself, cupping his cheek gently. Peter's eyes widen slightly at the tenderness of your touch. For a moment, he just stares at you, as if trying to decipher the reason behind your concern. He ever so slightly leans into your hand, doe eyes looking into you.

“You’ve just… been through a lot lately,” you decide to say.

Peter takes a deep breath, his gaze dropping to your hands resting on his cheek. He seems to be grappling with his emotions, his usual composure wavering. “I didn’t realize you were so concerned,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Of course I am. You’re important to me, Peter.”

Peter’s mouth opens and closes, unable to form words. He gulps, shifting on his feet. The tension in the air is thicker than it’s ever been, though you can’t tell why.

Peter thinks he just had an epiphany.

He takes a deep breath, hands on your waist tightening. “Hey, um. Can I… can we talk later? After school?”

You nod. “Yeah, of course.”

Peter nods as well. “Cool, cool.” His hands fall from your waist when his phone buzzes, and you finally feel like you can breathe. “I gotta take this,” he says, already walking away from you.

Peter texts you before the last bell rings, saying that something came up and if you can push your talk a few hours ahead. Your fingers shake as you type out your reply agreeing. You do your homework in silence, foot tapping up and down nervously. The sun is on the cusp of setting when there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey,” Peter greets you when you open it. He looks out of breath, like he just ran here.

“Hey,” you respond, trying to keep your voice steady.

Peter shifts nervously on his feet, glancing around before focusing on you. “You’re parents home?”

You raise a brow. “No..?”

“Good.” He moves past you, making his way to your living room. You close the door and follow him, heart pounding in your chest. Peter paces for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning to face you.

“I,” he starts, voice unsteady, “have been doing a lot of thinking.”

You remain silent, waiting for him to continue. Peter runs a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I’ve been focused on the wrong things. I know I haven’t really… been there. So, I’m sorry for that.” He wrings his hands together. You watch Peter with a mixture of anticipation and concern, your heart racing as he continues to struggle with his words.

“And, um, I guess, what I’m trying to say is…” He looks directly into your eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and resolve in his expression. He takes a deep breath.

“I–”

“–Know,” you blurt.

Peter’s mouth flops open like a fish out of water. “Uh. What?”

You purse your lips. Cat’s out of the bag. “I know you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter stares incredulously at you. “I… saw. When you went outside to change at Liz’s party. You just left, and I followed you, and for some reason you were changing in front of a big ass window without your mask on? So, literally anyone could’ve saw you, so that might be more your fault than mine–”

“[Name].” Peter's voice cuts through your rambling, and he takes a step closer, hands coming to grasp yours. “You… know?”

You gulp. “Well, yeah? That’s what I just said.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, shoulders hunching. He brings your hands up to his mouth, lightly kissing them. It sends your heart cracking through your ribs. “[Name], that’s not what I was gonna say.”

You look up at Peter, confusion and anticipation mingling in your eyes. He seems almost relieved, a soft smile gracing his lips as he holds your hands close. The moment feels suspended, and you can hear the quiet hum of the evening outside, adding to the atmosphere of calm and intensity.

“I like you. I really like you.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat, the words sinking in as if time has momentarily stopped. Peter’s eyes are locked on yours, filled with sincerity and a vulnerability that’s rare to see from him. The warmth of his hands around yours feels electrifying, grounding you in the moment.

“...I thought you liked Liz,” you whisper.

“I thought I did too,” he mutters, close. “But I was being stupid. I thought you liked someone else, so I stayed away.” He shakes his head. “But I can’t anymore.”

“How do you know it’s you I like?” you croak.

“Apart from you basically just admitting it?” He smiles cheekily. “MJ told me.”

You click your tongue. “Meddler.”

“She said she got tired of our bullshit.”

You giggle quietly, head dropping. Peter doesn’t take his eyes off of you, biting his lip in anticipation. You squeeze his hands gently, still processing the whirlwind of emotions. “So, what now?”

Peter’s expression softens, and he takes another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “Can I… can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart flutters at his words. “Yes,” you say, almost breathless.

Peter leans in slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips meet yours in a gentle, tender kiss. It’s a kiss filled with all the unspoken emotions, a release of the tension and a celebration of what’s finally come to light. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, shared moment.

As Peter's lips linger on yours, the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate yet still tender. You feel the warmth of his body, the soft pressure of his lips, and the gentle caress of his hands around yours. The kiss seems to hold everything that had been unsaid, all the confusion, the longing, and the relief of finally being on the same page

When you finally pull back, both of you are smiling, the weight of recent days seeming lighter. Peter’s eyes are full of warmth and affection, and he holds you close, his forehead resting against yours.

“Will you, um… be my–”

“–Guy in the chair? Sure, Pete. It’d be my pleasure.”

Peter hides his grin in your neck. “Sorry. Ned beat you to it.”

“Barely seconds into this relationship and you’ve already betrayed me,” you scoff playfully.

“So we’re dating now?” His voice sounds hopeful.

“Duh.” You’ve never been more sure. “Pete, I’ve been down bad for you ever since you gave me that pencil.”

He pulls back, looking at you with heartbreaking eyes. He leans in to kiss you on the forehead, then pulls back slightly, his expression soft and sincere. "I’m really sorry about homecoming. I’ll take you to prom and we’ll have the best night of our lives.”

You’re pretty sure the best night of your life will be when you and Peter get married, but maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself. “I heard you dumped her there as soon as you got there, anyway. If you ever do that to me I’ll make sure you can never be Spider-Man again.”

He nods his head seriously. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he grins, giddy with the outcome of the situation. “I’ll still make it up to you.”

“I can think of a few ways.”

He blushes, scandalized. “[Name]!”

“Down bad for a long time, Pete,” you remind him. “Like I said, my parents aren’t here…”

He scoffs, shoving you away slightly before pulling you back to him, not willing to let you go after he finally has you. The two of you stand there, holding each other, savoring the quiet and the closeness. The weight of the past few days lifts, replaced by a renewed sense of connection and possibility. It feels like the beginning of something new and wonderful, a chance to explore this newfound closeness and see where it takes you both.

“Can we just. Go out to dinner or something?” he asks, thumb rubbing at your waist. “We could use some celebration, I think."

You smile, feeling a surge of warmth at his thoughtfulness. "That sounds perfect."

As you both head out the door, hand in hand, the evening feels full of promise. With the uncertainties of the past few days behind you, you're ready to embrace whatever comes next—together.

notes: i wanted reader to drop the "i know ur spiderman" bomb and somehow find a way out of the conversation and now peter has to try to confess to them but he just cant get a hold of them for whatever reason. but that would be like a whole nother 3k or more words and like... this fic already too long LOL

thanks for reading !!

#peter parker x reader #tom!peter x reader #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker x reader angst #marvel x reader #spiderman x reader

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hollyhomburg · 6 months ago

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.71)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Freedom isn't always a good thing... sometimes stupid pups get in trouble.

Tags: slight angst, lying, implied psychopath Jin, Confirmed autistic Jimin, discussion of murder and killing others, Jimin and Jin both have dubious morality, needy m/c, Frottage, Teasing, Knotting, knot-fucking, desperate sex, messiness kink, (slight) pleasure dom hobi 👀, public sex, riding, squirting, car sex

W/c: 15.6k

A/n: it's kinda crazy that this chapter, last chapter, and next chapter was supposed to be a single chapter (it would have been over 30k), this one is my least favorite out of the bunch! please give it a bunch of love when it comes out though 🥺 if you don't love it i'll be sad!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The pack goes back to work the next week, nursing hangovers and hurts and everything in between. Every injury both visible and not.

Hoseok's bruises get covered up by Tae's makeup every morning, color corrector applied in thin layers, and then foundation, and then Pink lipstick kisses over top. Tae's lips, your lips, everyone's lips, pressed to those thankful inches between Hoseok's head and his heart.

It becomes their little ritual- and on the nights that Hobi's nightmares keep him awake- her concealer goes under his eyes too. And his lips get pressed more reverently with kisses. Easing apart his tense pout and his frown like the sun parts petals into bloom. It's sweet, the way that Hoseok surrenders himself so willingly to Tae's doting.

Hoseok doesn't know if he likes the makeup as much as he likes the attention. From both you and her.

There’s barely a morning that you don’t wrap yourself around Hoseok’s back while Tae does his makeup, nuzzling against his nape, sneaking your cold hands under the hem of his sweatshirt. alternating between dragging your throat down the crest of his back so that everyone knows he has an omega to come home to, and sleeping curled between. Staying close to your alpha's (the easy ones, the ones that aren't still mad at you).

Hoseok's not the only one who's still dealing with the aftereffects of what happened. The physical side effects and the mental ones.

Jimin still says up and guards the door most nights too, perched on the edge of the nest listening for anyone or anything that might be coming to hurt you. The protective parts of him fester in the meantime before he heals enough to go back to work. He's got too much time on his hands to wory.

He's only diligent with his physical therapy because you tattle on him to Namjoon when he doesn’t do his exercises. Eager to be good, eager to do anything you can to please the pack alpha.

It hasn’t escaped any of them that you’ve been extra agreeable and extra obedient recently. Eager to please. Eager to make up for what happened. Jimin isn’t bothered by it so much- if only because having something to do seems to make you happy. He’ll gladly tolerate you hounding him.

Especially when you bound up to Namjoon to give him a report when he comes home from work, on the receiving end of a very genuine "good pup, making sure your alphas are careful' from Namjoon. especially on those days when that is the only praise that the pack alpha gives you.

It’s not that Namjoon and Yoongi have been treating you coldly, just that there’s a small distance between the two of them and you. Kisses that would have lasted minutes only last second (or they aren’t initiated at all when it comes to Yoongi). Jimin wishes it didn’t remind him of how Tae treated him after she came out but it does.

Hopefully, like with her, Namjoon and Yoongi just need time.

You ask him about it, midmorning stretched out in Tae’s library room where you both wait for her to finish deciding what dress she’ll torture you both with today. You three have taken to hanging out together here. You and Jimin cuddled up on the couch, doing PT, watching Tictok’s, napping, kissing cuddling. Placing shy touches below the pulled blankets to see how far you can go before Tae notices and stops you both with a disapproving lilt to her eyebrows.

“I said no sex- if you guys are gonna hang out with me while I work- you’ve gotta behave.”

You’d melted below the covers and Jimin had firmly placed his hands back over the covers, noticeably damper than they were the last time Tae saw them.

“Sorry mommy,” recalcitrant enough to avoid a spanking (but maybe that is what you’d wanted- what you’d needed). But getting scolded is part of the fun, teasing, seeing how far you can push each other until you break.

You'd squirmed against Jimin's thigh as she'd gone back to work. clicking away at her keyboard without giving you a second glance. "you're not even going to like, let him finish-" You're whiney. Need and wanting down to your bones, a wanting that is only heightened by the vision Tae strikes today; the peachy set of silky bloomers and ruffled top that shows off the little bit of cleavage she has now.

She'd just leaned over the back of her chair and eyed you up and down. "No, if you want to distract me from my book you can suffer pup."

You'd whined and Jimin had hid his laugh in your shoulder. "No buts pup. Maybe later, If you're good, then you can bounce on Jiminie's knot all pretty for me."

"Yes Mommy." But you hadn't ended up doing any of that. You'd fallen asleep curled up around Jiminie (whose hands had unfortunately remained on his phone and above the covers), to the others already awake and at home and would you please help water the plants with Hoseokie pup? You know he doesn't always notice when they overflow.

It’s been harder for you to ask for things since the day you almost ran away. A wanting that can't be sated by simple touches and kisses simmering low in your stomach. Burning through you at strange moments.

Like another moment when you and Jimin are in the library room again. Tae is reorganizing and fussing. What you'd call nesting if she was an omega. The desk is on the opposite wall today. it's Cramped, it won't stay like this for long. The couch moved below the bay window.

You watch Jimin's face as he looks out that window, at the way that the wind tears at the trees around your house, makes them bob and creek, showing the silvery underside of their leaves.

It’s easier for you to Jimin all sorts of questions because he’s not mad at you. (Sometimes you feel like he's the only one who's not mad at you for what you did.)

“Have you thought about how you’ll do it yet?”

The paranoid bits stretch out and teem. The worst part of Jimin have festered in the meantime. Maybe he'd be less restless if he had something to do but the danger has passed now.

Moonbyul seems like she’s truly gone, you’ve heard neither hide nor hair from her- absolutely nothing since the day that she left. No one from the family has tried to contact Yoongi. Even Jin’s unceremonious exit from the FBI had gone without struggle or suspicion.

Jimin had just continued to watch the window, the spring raindrops drifting down the pain of glass all slow. “Thought about how I’d do what?”

You’d raised your eyebrow at him, and thankfully Tae had come in and disrupted whatever conversation you might have had about murders that might need doing. Twirling in the doorway and showing off her slinky dark green lingerie for you and tae to oooh and ahhh at. Your questions forgotten.

Sleeping bears don’t do well when they’re poked. Jimin knows that. The others know that. It might seem pity as far as retribution goes (Jimin still gets angry when he sees the bruises on Hobi’s throat or watches Namjoon examine the scars that crisscross your hands, red and angry. Or the nights that tae twitches in her sleep).

Maybe the best retribution is to live like this- free and unincumbered by anything like revenge. Revenge is also a burden. Revenge means you still care about what happened to you, that it still hurts, that you're still bleeding. Jimin doesn't know if he wants to be bleeding anymore. His alpha that hungers for blood and pain wars with what Jimin knows will logically help the pack more.

But Jimin’s not the only one who's feeling a little paranoid. A little unfulfilled.

The pack instills a buddy system for those who go to work still and for any excursions outside the house. No one goes anywhere alone. Jin starts driving Namjoon to work every morning and picking him up every evening. With kisses and coffee and snacks, especially on the days that Namjoon has long surgeries and he comes home exhausted. Jin like Jimin is trying his hardest not to be too idle. He turns in his sparkly FBI badge and his weapon the first day he's sober enough to drive.

Your recipe book and an audio file of Jimin's, yours, and Yoongi's 'interviews' where you explain everything gets locked in a safe that Jin knows the code to. Gets built into the wall in the basement and plastered over. It’s an afterthought, something just in case (you’ll never need it).

There are a lot of other things for Jin to fixate on now. Not everything is good.

It’s a difficult conversation that Jin doesn’t want to have. Especially not with the pups. This is a conversation that’s too big, too stressful, too much for you to handle- that Jin is certain of.

You certainly look very pupish this morning, still dressed in the matching pink pj’s that Jin left out for you last night, you’d firmly followed his showering instructions not to scrub too hard and even let him button you into them and brush your hair (something you don’t always let Jin do, sometimes you ask for your mommy to do it instead and Tae takes that pleasure from Jin’s fingers with a feral smile).

Your body perfectly moisturized and taken care of, skin glowing and supple and healthy under Jin's inspectory touches. A perfectly obedient pup. So so good it had Jin purring and scenting you so thoroughly you’d gone sweet and dizzy and dependent.

But for once, for this morning, Jin feels like he's dependent on you.

The whole pack will be dependent on you financially. If you decide what Jin thinks you’ll choose.

Jin looks at you across the table (small, yawning, still sleepy, tipping into namjoon and clearly itching for an alpha and a nest) and can’t help but wonder if this conversation, this ask, is best left for later. After having so many difficult conversations in such a short period of time he's lost his taste for them.

Without Jin earning an income right now, the pack’s finances aren’t quite as orderly as they could be. As they should be. Hoseok, Jungkook, and Namjoon are the only ones working now, and Jimin won’t be bringing nearly as much in as he was before- something Jin knows the pup is worried about- he’d even asked if he should get a second job. Having any of his pups overworked is something Jin can’t handle.

And Namjoon is already overworked. Namjoon confessed a little thoughtlessly a few days ago after his first big surgery back- that it’s a good thing he hadn’t quit his job yet. He might not quit it at all now with the pack in limbo. That had been your last straw, and you’d asked Jin if there was anything you could do to help.

That’s a lie- you knew there was something you could do. Sitting in that little file that Moonbyul had dropped off with Hobi’s car all those months ago. The things you’d inherited from Geumjae’s estate as his late wife. The beach house abroad, the apartment in Miami, and the brownstone that had housed his final moments in a city far far away that you don’t ever want to return to.

What other use can it serve?

Yoongi had used most of his Geumjae’s life insurance payout to buy the house and renovate it. And you’ve been living off the leftovers since then, but even that sum won't last forever.

It's a good thing property in Manhattan never depreciates in value.

“This is a lot of money, and I’d understand if you didn’t want to-”

You roll your eyes at Jin, crossing your arms bratty, if Jin were less stressed he might be inclined to take you over his lap for that one. But he wants all of your faculties on board right now. Big financial decisions and omegaspace do not mix well.

Jin is to anxious about this to want to make you submit. Too worried about pushing you too far, asking you for something you might not want to give and overstepping. The clothes and doting are easier- Jin knows exactly how to take care of you that way. He knows exactly what you want when it comes to that.

“Jin, I do not give a shit, like honestly.”

Namjoon is wordless between the two of you, massaging down your and Jin’s necks to soothe you. You don’t understand why he’s pussyfooting around it. What Geumjae has left you and trying to find something to do with it, some way to help the pack, isn't something you're nervous or unsure about. Not even a little bit.

You don’t mind, you really don’t mind. If it helps them stay fat and happy, they can take all of it.

His eyes go softer, less cagey. You lean forward at the kitchen table. Reaching for his hand. He lets you take it. “Jin, just say it-” Jin bites his lip and throws the pen onto the table with a clatter.

“If you sell the house in New York City and put even like 1/3 of it into a trust. The pack would be set for the rest of our lives off the interest alone. Even more if we go the private equity route. Even our kids could-”

Tae calls from the library room, leaning back in her chair to shout through the open door. Clearly listening in on your conversation. “I am not raising trust fund pups hyung!”

Namjoon barks a laugh, “no one is talking about pups yet Tae” he strokes down the nape of Jin’s neck gently, delicately. And you know he’s fixated on the idea of /////yet and when that yet will become soon.

Jin's not getting any younger. Although you and Jungkook are still firmly in your 20's. Jin's going to have to make some big life decisions soon. Not this year and not the next. But the year after definitely.

It’s hard for Jin, to balance what he knows is logically here on the table and what is best for you. He's not sure that he'd make the same choice- the decision to support a pack that you have not known for a calendar year yet (although the anniversary of Jimin finding Yoongi again is sneaking up on you. You’ll have to figure out a day that you want as your anniversary.)

To make decisions with them in mind seems a little…illogical. From a practical perspective. Jin has had these sentiments shoved down his throat since he was a pup. all omega's have.

Don't mate someone until you've known them for a year, don't move in together until you've dated someone for 6 months, and certainly don't combine finances if you don’t like the shape of an alpha’s knot. be a strong independant omega!

You reach for your water and namjoon grabs it for you, holding it so that you can suck at the draw. putting it at the other end of the table to that you don't risk spilling it. wiping the moisture off the corner of your lip when he's done.

Jin huffs. Independance is never something you've wanted- clearly.

All said and done It’s an easy decision for you. Giving them space and time to heal after what you’ve brought down on them and a bit of financial freedom on top of your newfound physical freedom.

You don’t put 1/3 of it into a trust, you end up putting all of it after some discussion.

Jin handles everything involved with selling the brownstone. From contacting a broker to verifying through lawyers that still hold ownership over the property and getting everything notarized. He does all the legwork of opening up a fucking trust to put the frankly insane amount of money that the brownstone goes for in it. Your name on it because namjoon had insisted, and then the pack alpha and omega.

You’re incredibly thankful that you don’t have to go back to the city (especially since you hated it so much in winter and wet springs.) You don’t even bother going back there to get some of your things. You know it probably accumulated dust in the year since you’ve been there. Jin even contacts an estate sale company that sells all of your and Geumjae’s things.

Jin has spent most of his newly gotten free time doing exactly what he’s always done; taking care of his pups.

He’s got interviews with a therapist tomorrow for Hobi (this one has had a very cohesive background check done on him, Jin has learned his lesson). And there's a nail appointment on the books scheduled for Tae today, her hair appointment and facial 2 days from now. A doctor appointment for you and Jungkook the day after. A time slot for Hoseok’s car to get a tune-up later this week (after Jimin’s reckless driving it’s been running a little rough). And the final check-up with Jimin’s surgeon the day after.

You don't know how you'd keep everyone's appointment straight, but maybe that's why jin is the pack omega and you're not. Everything is where it should be. Jin rather enjoys it too.

Namjoon’s scrubs get steamed and hung up before he leaves for work every day, a lunch packed with cute heart-cut strawberries and carefully arranged rice and slices of chicken. Nesting materials warmed in the dryer before you and Jimin and Tae settle in for your mornings of undisturbed library time. Jungkook’s workout clothes color color-coordinated and his long hair brushed shiny and curly with a pat to his bum out the door.

Jin only realizes he might be going a little overboard when he starts a chart to monitor the pack's water consumption. You pressed along his spine trying to rub away your name on the little whiteboard. "If you make me drink that much water I'm gonna have to pee like all the time-"

"Careful," Yoongi had teased, voice rough and gravely from disuse. "You might make Jin want to keep track of that too."

Jin had hummed considering it genuinely, and you and Jimin had jumped up to drag him on to other things in the house before he got any ideas.

Jin spent the rest of this particular morning helping Tae do her hair. Jin’s pups need to look their best at all times. She curled the front, and Jin curled the back so that she didn't have to stretch her poor little arms. A kiss pressed to her knuckles and a "let Jinnie do it my pretty pup" sounded persuasive enough.

Everyone is pup to Jin right now. In his element. Playacting as the perfect house omega.

Jin and Jimin do their assessment while you, Tae, and Yoongi are at the nail salon.

It's a Wednesday and a few days before he goes back to work from injury leave. Although Jimin enjoyed the first week of lounging with you and Tae in the library room watching her write her story (and get predictably nothing done with you and him there to tempt her) now Jimin has gotten too antsy to settle. Going to the gym with Jungkook yesterday helped a little.

It’s the last snow for the season and the big fluffy flakes hit the window with a faint clink. Jin and Jimin have a few hours of privacy to get this done; the psychopathy assessment that Jimin had asked after the other day, drunk and on the floor of the kitchen bellies full of your sweets.

Jin should probably manage the packs sugar intake too.

His pack omega instincts are settled in a way they aren’t usually now sitting here with Jimin in the spare bedroom (a room that will one day become the pack’s nursery and pup nesting room. But Jin doesn’t know that yet).

Jimin lounges on the window seat and stares up at the sky while he talks and answers Jin’s questions. Jin sits, legs crossed in a big blue velvet chair that you and Hobi found on one of your thrifting walks the other day.

You’ve been going on more of those- walks with Jungkook and Hobi around the neighborhood when the weather is nice. to see the flowers- the daffodils and snowdrops and magnolias starting to bud. You stumbled into an estate sale last week where you bought all sorts of things including the velvet chair and an old rug that yoongi had sighed over and then relented, dragging it off to the basment to work on restoring it.

Jin knows you're working up to attending classes at Jungkook’s gym (you have an open invitation from Wonho). Jin will never not be proud of you, that you seem to be at least trying to get healthier and be more active.

He lounges with a notepad and a few printouts in front of him. A copy of the DSM-five is under the chair just in case he needs to reference it. His silk dressings gown is yellow and green striped with blue and pink floral decals on the shoulders. A tad more eccentric than Jin usually goes because this silk robe used to belong to Tae before she switched to pink everything, folded over his striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Pink, also Tae's.

It’s easier for Jimin to do this if he doesn’t have to stare at Jin's face, dewy underneath the thick-rimmed glasses. Jin has had more time to devote to his grooming now that he’s unemployed.

Jin listens, and Jimin talks for what feels like hours. laid out in his most comfy sweats set, also cleaned and pressed by Jin earlier (do sweatpants even need to be ironed?) This one is rough in all the right places, worn familiar from years of wear. Jin doesn't even know where Jimin got it- he checked but the tag had already been cut out, probably years ago.

It's strange, how easy it is to ignore things until you connect the dots.

He sits up towards the end looking at Jin and fiddling with the new earrings in his ears. Teasing at the loose cool chain with the tips of his fingers like noodle bats at the tassels on the edge of the curtain in Tae's library room. It's an absentminded action- Jimin's body is too loud for his mind to think of should and shouldn’t’s.

You've warned him time and time again that if he plays with the fresh piercings too much, they might get infected. Namjoon has done his best to dot disinfectant whenever he gets home and, in the morning, too sometimes.

But Jimin always always fiddles. He can't help it. Small bits of paper, the ends of his hoodie that somehow always end up in his mouth. Tae's hands, the soft little ends of Tae's hair, Tae's jewelry, Tae’s everything. It’s weird to see Jimin talking if he’s not fiddling with something.

He’s nervous, so he fiddles. Jin has notes and a completed screening form in front of him. Looking at Jimin now with fresh eyes Jin doesn’t know how he never noticed. How he never put it together.

The psychopathy assessment below taunts Jin.

Failure to conform to social norms concerning lawful behaviors, such as performing acts that are grounds for arrest. Deceitfulness, repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for pleasure or personal profit. Lack of remorse, being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another person

"And did it bother you? When you killed those people?"

"Those bad people hyung," Jimin corrects, and Jin can't help his smile.

"Did it bother you when you killed the bad people, Minnie?"

Jimin fiddles, quiet, like he doesn’t want to admit it. "Only when it got messy."

"Why do you think the mess bothered you?" Jin’s asking half because he wants to know, and half because he’s genuinely curious.

Jimin’s hands rub up and down his knees and he shifts forward than backward. But his words come out even and measured. "Because it wasn't the way it was supposed to go- the way I organize it in my head, the same way you probably think through what clothes will make Namjoonie hyung blush the most. It didn't happen the way it should have."

Monsters aren't supposed to bleed.

"The only way I don't get overwhelmed by things is whey I make sure they happen they way they should."

"What does it feel like when you get overwhelmed minnie?"

"It's like- fear I think? My chest gets really tight, and everything gets extra extra loud. It makes my alpha like- riled. And I have to remind myself that I don't need to get angry about it."

They move on to other topics, different than Jimin’s apparent lack of remorse (it's not lack of remorse, but conditional remorse. Jimin only feels within the firm lines of what he believes he should feel) But they circle back to it because Jimin uses the words ‘bad people’ more than once.

"Why do you think that they needed to be bad to kill them? Why does if they were bad matter to you so much?"

"Because that’s the rule- bad people are supposed to die, aren’t they?" Jin cannot fault Jimin for that- because it is the rule. Generally. You do not Mourne monsters. You do not Mourne the villains.

"I'm not so sure about that, plenty of bad people never get punished."

"Like Moonbyul and me you mean?" Jin almost breaks the pen he's holding, almost.

"Do you believe that you're a bad person Minnie?"

Jimin bites his lips, looking down and away, not fidgeting at all. But his teeth work away at his lip. It takes a second for him to gather his words, a second to respond. Jimin has always been hard to read.

"I was hoping you would tell me. I can’t ask Tae. She wouldn’t be able to tell me the truth."

No, Jin always noticed. He just didn’t think of it beyond late-night musings wrapped in Namjoon’s arms. Gossiping about their pack because If there’s one thing that the pack omega and pack alpha like to talk about- it’s their 6 pups. They used to gossip about you the most that way- but Namjoon has been resistant to discuss you recently and Jin doesn't have to ask why.

He sees the conflict and love in his soulmate as easily as he sees the diagnosis written out on the paper right now. He'll check the DSM later for autism spectrum disorder but he won't find anything that varies from his notes.

Uses only limited facial expressions to communicate, frequently flicking switches or spinning objects, speaking in a repetitive way, narrow or intense interests, having trouble with changes to their schedule or changing from one activity to another, and hyper-reactivity to sensory input.

Sometimes talking about things too seriously does more damage. Jin keeps that particular diagnosis to himself.

Jimin looks at him imploringly, not reaching out to touch, because maybe Jimin is a little too overstimulated right now from bearing his heart to initiate contact. His eyes are bright and hopeful. They are not glassy and vacant. Jin has looked at countless pictures of psychopaths before- and none of them have eyes quite like Jimin's

They’ve been at it for 4 hours already, Jin has gotten up twice to pee when Jimin sits up without the intention of lying back down.

"So, what do you think hyung? Am I crazy? Am I a psychopath?"

I think you're a whole lot of things Minnie. Autistic for one with a hyper fixation on the people you love, Tae in particular.

Jin winces, looking Jimin up and down, and the alpha flushes but stays still under Jin’s evaluation. His sensory issues are painfully on display in an extra big sweatshirt, the ends of his sweatshirt pulled loose so that they're not tight around his wrists. His hips, baggy pants, and slides. Jimin’s toes flex, like he can’t help but push at the one item of clothing that constrains him.

He never has the same problem with the neat dark suits that his bodyguard job makes him wear. When Jimin knows what's expected of him- he doesn't have a problem following the rules or lying.

Bad people die. That's the rule, isn't it? Jin has a tallied kill count on the corner of the page, every time Jimin references a different murder over the last 5 hours, Jin has added a tally.

He's run out of room on the notepad.

Jin will bring it up to him later. Will tell him later, to be sure. Jimin asks after something much scarier, much more dangerous to his pack right now. Jin will do anything he needs to do to protect his pack- and that's part of the problem.

There are things that Jimin doesn’t need to know.

Jin covers that evaluation with his fingers. Only a few words are viewable between the narrow edges of his long fingers.

A peculiar lack of empathy, but not a lack of anxiety. An ability to distinguish between right and wrong but not an inherent understanding of those concepts. A tendency to lie. But is that really so scandalous? So damning? Is lying not a necessity and an instinct when the truth can do so much damage? Would Jin blame anyone for lying about these things?

“I do think that psychopaths don’t wonder if they’re psychopaths Jimin. Asking these questions of yourself isn’t a bad thing. If you were crazy, I’m not sure you’d care to be here.” And you’d be trying to convince me too.

Jin stands up and walks over to Jimin the one or two steps. Leaving his notepad behind to cup Jimin’s cheek, running his thumb along the alpha’s plush lips. Jimin’s eyes are wide and glassy, unable to tear themselves away from Jin. Jin’s omega wants to purr at the show of devotion, at the sight of Jimin below him almost on his knees. Jimin places a gentle palm on Jin’s thigh, Just to feel.

"I don't think you're crazy Jimin, I just think you're an alpha who will do anything for the people you love." Is it lying if he believes it to be the truth?

"And there's nothing wrong with that?" Jimin asks, Jimin’s hand fiddled with the tasseled end of Jin’s dressing gown with a delightful shiver of sensory pleasure.

Jin leans down and presses his lips to the alpha’s brow. Jimin almost sags against Jin’s front.

"There's nothing wrong with that at all. Come with Jinnie. It's well past time for lunch, and I won't be able to stand it if my pups are left unfed."

~-~

Jin spends his days gloriously unemployed putting the pack back together piece by treasured piece. But that’s not the only thing that needs his healing touch.

He spends most of his time helping Yoongi restore the house to its former glory. Switching out crown molding and cracked wall sconces. He rarely ever changes out of his matching pajamas and matching pink sweat sets even if they get speckled with dust and wood stain and eventually paint. He thoroughly enjoys sitting elbow to elbow with Yoongi and just- living. Just existing next to the beta without any thoughts or secrets between them.

They don’t talk much, sometimes Yoongi plays music, and sometimes he picks the paint splatters out of Jin’s hair, or the splinters out from his fingers oh so gently. Yoongi’s been quieter since everything went down- if that even seems possible. Less likely to joke, the smiles when Jin puts his paint-splattered hands-on Yoongi’s ass don’t last quite so long.

But unlike with Jimin, any words of wisdom and questions aren’t met receptively; Yoongi just walks away. And Jin knows he’s not ready to talk about it yet. Jin worries that your and his relationship is only part of the problem.

It’s a good thing Yoongi’s fairly organized and has kept all the paint buckets in the coat closet under the stairs. He teaches Jin how to fill the bullet holes in the banister with wood filler and sand it down. The muddy stain sits until they can hardly tell. After a few days of their hard work, it feels like the last few weeks are just a bad memory.

He spends his afternoons polishing away the bullet holes in the antique doorframes, re-spackling the parts of the wall you crashed into that got indented. Every little fleck of blood that leaves even the barest hint of a stain against the ceiling. The drywall cut out and replaced in certain spots. They spend it in companionable silence and Jin tells himself that staying by Yoongi’s side is enough.

Now that the pack knows that they’re not going to be discovered right away there is time to take care of the evidence beyond just bleach and cleaner. The cops haven’t come to their door even once. Not even a noise complaint from your days of revelry.

They're meticulous in the way that they check over every inch of the house. Jin goes over everything with luminol and a blacklight just to be sure. The bights of Yoongi’s eyes extra white as he watches. But no one is better at covering up a murder than them. (If they had a mind for it, they might have a handy side business. Jin jokes, but Yoongi just huffs and doesn't dignify it with a response.)

They dig up the body later.

They make sure everyone else is out of the house. Tae’s hair appointment serves several purposes beyond making sure the pack's prettiest alpha feels her best. Tae goes a little lighter- blonder, less red, and more chestnut. Long and brushing past her shoulders now. Perfect for the spring that hovers on the edge of every breath of warm air.

It won’t be long now. The daffodils are already coming up in places in the front yard. Yellow and bright and happy.

They put the man in a metal bucket, fraying clothes and all. Jimin and Jin mix up the chemicals wearing full hazmat suits. Lye bubbles and burns and leaves little left of the man other than some errant buttons that must have been on his pants and a twisted mess of a zipper.

Jin and Jimin toss them into the fireplace upstairs before anyone gets home, watching as they bubble and burn and disappear like a bad memory. The assassin and lye slurry gets poured down the drain, and carried out to the ocean to find rest- no longer haunting you. Yoongi mixes up more concrete and pours the hole and it’s like it never happened, like Tae and you never murdered that man.

When the pack gets home Jin has picked a few daffodils, put them on the kitchen table, and opened up all the windows. Tae twirls when Jimin asks to show him her hair. The way it falls in pretty ringlets.

"Beautiful"

“Fumigation” Jin will tell their neighbors when they ask about the smell. the subtly tangy chemicals that fill the culdisac. "You know our cat, the angry one, brought a whole punch of pests in. You might want to test your basement too."

Jin is the best liar in the pack for a reason.

You come home laden with bags and just cuz gifts. You’d gotten your hair trimmed and Jungkook too- tight on the sides and long on the top. Jungkook’s bought new star-shaped pillows to go with the light blue couch and Namjoon brings home a pink moon one for you. A stuffed animal one with floppy feet and a tastefully neutral expression that you clutch to your chest during movie nights.

On nights like tonight, when it's so quiet that you need something soft to hold onto- least you remember other deceptively quiet nights.

The rain outside has lulled to a gentle pitter patter and the pack is likewise lulled to a similarly gentle sleep. Moving this way and that, settling like the bones of the house that creek with every harsh gust of wind. Asleep around you in heaps.

You nested earlier with Jin and Jungkook- fluffed every pillow and folded every blanket. It’s not quite as fluffy as your old couch but it is bigger, large enough to accommodate everyone lying this way and that. Jin purrs are sleep deep and soft. Almost pearly in the nighttime.

It's so quiet.

Your hair catches the highlights of the TV screen when it bursts bright and colorful. Hobi twirls a lock of your hair around his fingers while the movie drones on. Animated this time- because none of you have had the stomach for any movie that features too much violence. Nothing lifelike yet. You’ll stick to familiar fantasies in the meantime.

You're curled on your side and stretched out, your feet in Namjoon's lap. The top of your head so close to Hobi's thigh that you can feel the warmth of it along the top of your head. You're not touching him. But his warmth and safe alpha musk is close and thick. More satisfying to your nesting instincts than any blanket, to have your alpha nearby and alert.

Not that you're not welcome, Noodle occupied that spot until recently. Yawning and slinking off with a jingle of his bell collar once Hobi alternated from petting him to petting you.

He twirls a lock of your hair around his finger and watches the movie.

It’s a movie that you've seen before. It's familiar backtrack the perfect thing to fall asleep to here. The room is dark. The blue-red then pink light of the television flashes with scenes. Sounds too far away as your eyes get heavier and heavier. You're not the only one who's clearly feeling the effects of the nighttime or the smooth unaffected happy scents of your packmates.

Tae in particular smells rich and flowery, happy sprawled out between Jungkook and Jimin and Yoongi. Jimin’s hand sits under the hem of her white tank top, the translucent lace edge hides the movements of his fingers as he strokes up and over her hip lazily. Your mate's face is hidden in her hair, and Jungkook is belly down draped over their legs. Your mate's long fingers rest still against his spine. His shirt pulled up to the small of his back. His small huffs are infrequent and gentle. Like a puppy twitching in their sleep.

Namjoon's loud snore punctuates the quiet from the other side of the couch, his head tipped back against the cushions at an uncomfortable angle. Lost to the world like Jinnie tucked small into his side. His cheek fluffy and resting against the hollow of the pack alpha’s throat. Nose tucked to the safest place in existence.

Well, maybe the second safest. Hoseok’s lap is empty afterall.

You never would have said that Jin was skinny or waifish before, but after quitting his job it’s clear that the stress was affecting him. He looks healthier now. Less sallow-skinned and the space under his eyes is less hollow. Jungkook too has a pink glow to his cheeks- although that might just be where he’s rubbed it raw over Tae’s tight And Jimin’s side. He’s half asleep while he scents them. He mumbles and grumbles something like a purr before he goes quiet and still.

Even Yoongi at the end of the couch, has his eyes closed, although you can tell they’re moving under his eyelids, his breath coming out with little huffs that tease the top of Jimin’s hair, sock feet stretched out. You close your eyes and open them, eyes drawn to yoongi at first sight. he's always the first person you look for when you open your eyes.

Only to see Noodle purring from his lap. Your and Hobi's company abandoned in favor of his new favorite person.

“Traitor,” you mumble. Hobi laughs quietly.

"We should take his treats until he comes back to us."

"Noodle? or Yoongi?"

"Both." you giggle and turn onto your side.

His fingernails itch down the back of your neck, not a scruff but close and you turn till you're belly down on the couch so that he has a better vantage point to play with your hair. Your eyes flutter, and when they open again Hobi is still staring at the screen. You're the only two awake and half his face is colored green from the movie.

When you look at the screen- Howl and Sophie are traipsing across flower-filled fields. colorful and bright.

"We should find a place like that, when spring really starts up in a few weeks."

Hoseok's eyes are dark and reflective when he looks down at you, huffing fondly, teasing, "are you asking me out on a date?"

"Maybe. You gonna say yes if I am?"

"Maybe." He teases, and you reach up to pinch his thigh, he takes your hand before you can and holds it, pinning it up there on his thigh. You tangle your hand with his pant leg and leave it there. He goes back to watching the movie and you go back to watching him. Quiet and peaceful in the silence of gentle nighttime

“It always bothered me” Hobi knows you’re watching him. Even without looking down. Yoongi's other hand rests on the back of his neck, you see his slack fingers twitch when he looks at you.

“What?”

“He didn’t use real flower types when he animated this- they sort of look like cow vetch- but they’re not.”

You snort, rubbing your eye, “only you would complain about the flowers in Howls Moving Castle.”

Hobi huffs, his fingers trailing over your forehead gently, smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. Hand sliding to your shoulder under your arm.

"Come here, I don't bite." You go with little protest. You let him usher you up onto your knees, scooting across the couch until your head and most of your body is sitting in his lap. Laying your heavy body down. You tuck your legs to the side and someone else other than Namjoon snores but it doesn’t matter who. The eight of you tangled here.

"We should wake everyone up and go upstairs."

"Leave them for a minute. This is my favorite part."

He hesitates, looking down at you, then slowly, like his hand can feel the weight of the gesture, he draws your hair away from your face, the pads of his fingers brushing the corner where your ear becomes your jaw, his pulse by your ear visible in every little tremble. You breathe, and Hobi touches your neck, just mindless circles, eyes eventually drawn back to the TV.

“This place is gorgeous Howl! it’s like a dream.”

You swallow, and you suddenly feel more awake than you have in years, in months. It's frightening the sudden clarity at which you are aware of him- of everything. The softness of his faintly calloused hands, the feeling of his flannel pj's rough under your cheek. The smell of the peach-scented body wash he must have used in the shower earlier. Everything about him in frightening clarity.

You like the way he's touching you, over your cheek and down your throat. None of you doesn't like it. None of you is afraid of what Hoseok might do next. You're not even thinking about it. An alpha has his hands on your neck and you feel-

You feel perfectly at ease, perfectly happy, perfectly in love.

It's like you've been sleepwalking this whole time, or maybe that your soul has taken a vacation, forsaken your body for greener pastures, and then snapped back to this moment right now. Your belly feels full of almost there laughter. You're tired but you're not exhausted. Your shoulders don’t even ache. There isn’t a lump in your throat.

Your breath is so smooth and so easy when you exhale and inhale. You can breathe.

Hobi’s face flashes blue, then the brightest chartreuse. His hand finds the popcorn bowl, and part of it misses, hitting somewhere in your hair but you don’t care at all. You look up at him, watching. Chest going all tight again- your body is fighting it, whatever this feeling is. You're simultaneously more awake than you've ever been and suddenly- not sure if you're not sleeping.

His wrist is over your nose and you nuzzle into it as he reaches for another handful of popcorn, fighting back tears. even as one curl falls from his overful fist and hits your face.

He mindlessly picks the popcorn out of your hair, eating it anyway (at least Jungkook didn't put too much butter in it) He doesn't realize that something is very wrong yet (that something is very very right).

“Sorry.”

“S’fine”

Hobi goes back to watching the movie and you wait a few more minutes, a few more seconds fighting back tears, before you disturb the quiet again.

"Hobi," Your voice is quiet and scratching. He doesn't hear you over the movie. Not at first.

Your heart is so thick in your throat and you stretch out. Your body is truly lax for what feels like the first time in ages. Not a bit of tension in your muscles. Your head doesn’t feel so heavy, and that vaguely sick feeling that’s always sort of in your stomach is gone. You breathe and it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t feel tight. It’s easy.

Namjoon mumbles near your feet. And Jimin lies Tae down more properly, disturbing Yoongi a little, Noodle hops off his lap and slinks off into the darkness, and everyone re-settles. Everything is slow and simple.

And safe.

Your hand goes vicelike on Hobi’s wrist and he looks down at you, inhaling sharply. There is no hatred in his face, though there hasn't been in months. There is nothing in his eyes besides the most blush pink love, a love that speaks of roses and bumblebees and butterflies- every other small flying thing that has nurtured the world to life. The panic is immediate. This is not a feeling that you are used to. This is not a feeling that you remember.

You don't remember the last time you felt safe.

"I feel- Hobi I feel safe. I feel so safe right now- Hobi- I can't-"

You’re frantic with the knowledge of it, words rushed and a little panicked, you’ve forgotten this feeling, how complete and peaceful it is. Peaceful and yet panicked because this is not a feeling that you're used to.

The knowledge thrums through you, the relief choking you with its pretty purple vines. His hands go ridged in your hair, knotting a little before they smooth it out. Your scent- it's not unhappy, but it is pungent. Hobi curls his body over you, bowing to protect it from any unseen threat. He would protect you from anything that came through the front door. Anyone.

He smiles down at you gently, petting your throat, down the side of your body. Oh so gentle. "I know it's- it's good, right? It's okay. Right?"

"Yeah- it's okay, it’s-"

And it is okay. More than okay. It’s okay even when the tears form at the corner of your eyes and find their death in Hobi’s lips as he leans lower to kiss them away so softly you hardly feel it. He knows what this is. He’s happy to hold you through it, the first time your body has let go. Relinquished the tightness and control of being on edge. That little thing that makes prey animals prey animals. The part of you that has always been more animal than human, more fight and flight than fawn.

But you're safe now, all the hard things are over. all the hard things aren't heavy anymore because you're safe. Here in Hobi's lap, here in the house that Yoongi made for you all. You're safe.

It’s a feeling you can’t explain. Like why the snow smells clean and why the air smells like a memory sometimes. Safety is one of those intangible things, you know when it’s here and when it’s gone.

He only hopes that this time, it’s here to stay.

You feel safe in his arms, and you feel safe when minutes later Namjoon wakes from a particularly loud snore. You're asleep finally, but your name is the first on his lips.

Namjoon smacks his lips, scenting the distress on the air without opening his eyes. “Pups? What’s wrong?"

Hobi smiles at Joon, his half-asleep pack alpha brain running paces while his instincts have gone miles. "It's okay Joon, she's just happy, go back to sleep."

"Okay, love you," the pack alpha grumbles out. Curling back over Jin’s body with his, all but pinning the pack omega to the couch. Jin just purrs louder.

"Love you too Joonie." Hobi looks down at you, holding you in his lap, and thinks. Yeah, we're both gonna be safe, aren't we?

(When you wake in the morning, you’re back in the nest upstairs. You smell like Hobi and Yoongi and You don’t remember being carried there at all; you just remember the comfort.)

~-~

You do not spend the next week helping Yoongi and Jin fix the house. you spend the next week baking.

Luckily the kitchen escaped most of the damage in your gunfight. Everything is unharmed except for a small spot by the coffee station where a bullet lodged itself in the drywall and one spot in the blue tile backsplash that needs re-doing.

Yoongi waits for that last, hovering, watching you hum along to the music and scoop out things into little trays. Onto the baking pans, you do not catch him watching. But when a glass breaks, he's there waiting with a dustpan to sweep it up.

He doesn't manage to protect you against every hurt however. there are some things that you just can't anticipate.

You go through every recipe you’ve ever made, honey cakes and macarons that take several tries to get right. Pretty Raspberry Charlottes with meticulously arranged raspberries and ladyfingers. Chocolate cookies with crackly tops. Red bean buns and pineapple cakes.

You make everything in your cookbook once and then again. Tweaking the recipes and adjusting them to copy them over into a new recipie book that Hoseok gets you.

(It's not a courting present, it's not- he swears)

(It's totally a courting present)

The book has a thick pink cover, a snap-in binding so that you can take pages in and out at will. And a small pink tulip on the front cover that quickly gets stained with butter, lemon juice, and a tiny tiny bit of blood.

“You need to be more careful.” yoongi says, in his pj’s. hair all spiky from where jin gave it a fresh cut in the kitchen last night. Short enough that it makes his cheeks look all chubby. A band-aid in his hands. You’re pretty sure there’s still a little bit of his hair on the kitchen floor, but you’ve never been one to complain about that sort of thing so you let it slide. you let namjoon wrap your finger with the bandaid with a small whine.

"I was being careful- I just-"

“I was watching her hyung,” Jimin says, a little fluffy, a little ruffled. His headphones pulsing dully around his throat. You read between the lines with that and make no comment. I was watching her hyung, I know she didn’t do it on purpose.

You got him a pair of nice over-the-ear headphones last week and picked them out with Hobi’s help. They’re the kind that makes everything- even the most grating hum – ease away into silence. Your gift has helped a lot more than any of them anticipated when you’d first set out on your “let's figure out what makes Jimin have grumpy pup time” Adventure.

Some things had been easy, and routine. No microfiber, no oily foods. other things are less anticipated- his leg hair. A trigger he didn’t even know he had. Discovered after he watched Tae shave in the bathroom, the air all hot, the sudsy pool of water foaming pink as Tae filled it up and sat on the edge. Jimin's heavy eyes followed her as he asked why she does it, why you do it too.

"Wow It's like- really smooth."

"Can I try?"

"Are you sure you don't just want to feel?"

"I'm sure."

Tae had shaved him, oh so gently, gripping around the back of his knees. and Jimin hadn't realized, hadn't known what kind of effect it had on him until he was sitting in the nest in utter bliss a solid hour afterward. Rubbing his legs together like a cricket, absolutely lost to the sensation of skin on skin and no tugging.

"Can you do it tomorrow? Please? I wanna feel like this every day," a relaxed laugh warping his words. "Wow leg hair like totally sucks- I didn't know I didn't- I didn't know at all, I didn't realize-"

There are so many things you don't realize that hurt. You and Tae hand cuddled up close to him, rubbing up and down his thighs to feel how soft Minnie's skin actually was. Gentle. Your touches ease away his distress.

"Sorry Minnie, it won’t feel the same, you have to wait a few days for it to grow out."

So no leg hair, no sellophane. Absolutely no tags on clothing. Headphones when things get too loud. Jimin goes quiet and soft and gentle with the headphones. He tries not to wear them all the time, but when the house goes particularly loud in the afternoons after he's come home from work- it's become his new favorite thing. To sit in Tae's library room with her and enjoy a few moments of companionable quiet.

It's good, it makes you happy that Jimin is leaning a bit more into the sensory stuff than usual since his tentative diagnosis from Jin. The rest of the pack had completely accepted it, almost without a second thought. A few careful nuzzles and a few reassuring kisses.

Jungkook had immediately set out to make a list of Jimin’s safe foods. “I don’t know if I even have any- I don’t know if it’s like an autism sensory thing Jinnie just said that I’ve got something.” But the secretive looks Jin had sent the rest of you had been proof enough. You all believe the pack omega’s words like they’re gospel. And really- when it just comes to loving the people you love and listening to them to love them better that's an easy concession to make.

And it's also a little fucking cute when Jimin leans into the sensory stuff. Yoongi ruffles his hair now where the headphones sat Making the hair that it pressed down poof up again.

“It’s okay Minnie, accidents happen.”

Everyone’s been sensitive to Minnie recently. So careful and intentional with the way that they love him. So much so that they’re letting other things slip through the cracks.

It’s not a big deal. It’s really not- you’d gotten used to a certain level of contact from them over the past few months and while you never audibly complain about it and you’d never admit it. One fact remains; unavoidable and inescapable, haunting you in your simple moments.

You’re fucking needy.

You can only take so much- so many times of Jungkook coming home with the front of his shirt sweat-damp from a run, pulling up and showing off his abs too cool off. Of Namjoon when he changes into pajamas, tiny little shorts that show off all his thighs straining and pulling. Jimin when he’s stretched out, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, all growly and close to Tae whose skirt is pulling high.

Your mate washing his hands in the sink definitely shouldn’t leave you with your mouth dry, slinking off to the upstairs bathroom to clean up just so that no one scents it on you.

It’s embarrassing. You feel like a freshly presented pup.

No one has…sought you out since your little mishap. No one has let their hungry touches linger and go hungrier. No one has given you exactly what you know you need since Hobi- before Moonbyul. Almost 3 weeks ago now.

But to put pressure on them now, when it’s clear that maybe- you need to tread lightly when you already have so much to apologize for. It Feels like too much too soon. You’re not a monster- you can control yourself.

In the meantime, you bake your heart away. Needing something to get your mind off them. The whole house is littered with powdered sugar and sawdust, dusted with frosting and wood filler. There isn’t a single shelf left in the fridge that isn’t covered with cakes or sticky custard tarts, or personal cheesecakes topped pretty with heart-cut strawberries.

The only one Jimin had said was slightly grating to him was the super sticky raspberry tarts. So Tae feeds them to him with a giggle, then Yoongi leans in close, demanding the same treatment, his lips gently swallowing tae's long fingers whole.

You shiver and watch.

"It's so sticky," Yoongi licks forward, lapping at tae's fingers, "but sweet!"

You can't stop your hungry look as you watch Tae lick the whipped cream off the top of a tart, her tongue darting out to lick over her lips. feeding tae a bit of whipped cream. some of it gets on his face and jimin smacks his pulsh lips, glossy.

You feel like you want to smack your face into the table. You actually do grip it hard. You wonder if it's normal, to want so much. To want things so hard. your cheeks feel so hot you might be able to back cookies off them.

Breath crusts your ear, lips just barely brushing your skin "these are really yummy."

You jump, Hobi's next to you and he grins, his fingers traitorously resting on the edge of the counter and you know he knows exactly what you were just thinking. What you were just wanting. You blush hot and needy, embarrassed at being caught staring at them. Busying yourself with pulling the remaining tarts off the drying rack and packing them away with parchment paper.

Tae's cheeks are speckled with powdered sugar. And she giggles- completely unaware of your obvious wanting. You nibble just a little at your own pastry. Appetite is suspiciously silent.

Jimin’s definitely not absorbing your conversation either, too busy watching Tae just like you were. Yoongi slinks off with a quiet thank you- intent on completing whatever project he's currently working on.

Jimin's eyes flick up and down Tae's face. Honed in, unable to look away. "The eye glitter-"

"Eyeshadow Minnie," Tae corrects, a little meanly, a little know-it-all in her tone. The same exact what she gets when she takes her knot and tells you exactly how to-

You need to get a grip. You forcefully turn away from the two of them and flip through your new recipe book. Searching for something sweeter, something else you can make other than fixate on this.

You clench your thighs together and watch Jimin cup Tae’s cheeks, her neck, hands skimming down her waist hungrily.

Jimin lets out a little pent-up breath, "It's like- super mesmerizing today- can you show me which one-"

Tae pulls him up from the table with a sweet giggle, leading him into the other room- Jimin looks a little dazed, stumbling on the carpet as he goes. Hoseok laughs and plucks another cookie from the tray before he helps you put them back inside, shaking his head.

These have powdered sugar on them too, you watch Hobi lick the white from his fingers. Hobi has nice hands, nobly in all the right places. You let out a breath and he licks them again, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Are you like okay or-"

"I'm fine." You whine, a little petulently. Setting down the container a little hard. Hobi laughs, and you wish it didn't make your knees a little weak. You need to get it together. You set the back of your hand against your flaming cheeks.

The fact of the matter is that You've gotten used to a certain amount of attention from the pack. Your body mostly, has gotten used to the near constant attention. Since everything happened, people have been- warming up to it slowly. Baking is also a good way for you to mediated away your sexual frustrations, bury them deep below layers of dough and batter and sparkly sugar.

Hobi's hand scratches under the hem of his shirt and you let out a heavy breath. He looks over at you and his nostrils flare.

"So, ugh- what's next- what are you baking next?"

"I wanna try to make this recipe I saw on Ticktok but I'm out of powdered sugar so-"

"You want me to drive you?" Your eyes flicker up. And you perk up at the idea of getting out of the house right now.

"Yes," you say, is your voice shaky? Are you the only one who notices the way that Hoseok's hand curls over his keys? or the way that you move restlessly? Pent up.

You leave, you tell others, but you find it hard to look away from Hoseok long enough to send a text to the group chat The same way that it was hard for Jimin to look away from Tae.

You make it to the store without any sort of comment from him, anything beyond his hand and your hand intertwined over the center console. Although you do see Hobi's mouth quirk as you stare and stare and stare.

There is something unfairly attractive about the way that Hoseok drives; one hand on the back of your headrest to back in the car. Something that makes you feel like you're melting when he follows you around the store. Taking one step for every two of yours, slow and leisurely, lingering close behind you protectively as you debate milk chocolate and semi-sweet. Reaching over you to get the sugar from the top shelf. His bicep brushing the top of your head.

Your jeans have rips in them, a courting gift from Tae who claimed they were cute (the pockets on the back are heart-shaped) His index and middle finger stay tucked into the back pocket of them, tugging you back close when you almost step in front of someone's cart, his thumb resting on the hollow of your back. Rubbing.

But when he gets into the car he pauses, "do you want to-"

"The beach?"

He swallows hard, "yeah- just for a bit?"

You drive, and instead of returning your hands to the center console Hobi’s hand creeps, settling on your knee. Hobi hooks his finger into the biggest rip in your jeans, one on your upper thigh, stroking the skin higher and higher. You go still, look down, and watch his hands rub smooth circles on your inner thigh.

Hoseok has very pretty hands.

A heat creeps up the back of your neck as Hobi keeps his eyes on the road and not on you. You try not to squirm, not to close your legs either. Although you know he'll be able to smell and feel your slick if he keeps it up for too long. You know your scent is swelling treacherously sweet, but you hope he won't comment- won't notice.

But when he pulls into the parking lot and the ocean is right there, turning dark green and a little violent at high tide. The air is stormy but sweet through the cracked windows. He turns to you, already smirking. The quirk of his lips teases and you realize he knows exactly what he's been doing to you this whole time.

You're already shoving his hand off of you, and he laughs at your flaming cheeks. "Oh my god shut up-"

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh, you little shit-" Hoseok grins.

"You're cute when you're flustered from being teased."

"Call me cute one more fucking-"

"Cute."

You put your head between your knees and actually scream. It's soft, not all that loud. Hoseok's laugh is louder as he throws his head back. And you regret ever making the mistake of falling in love with your best friend.

"Oh my god you are totally getting horny because of a car-"

"It's not the fucking car-" you whine, almost petulant.

"Oh, so it's me then?" The way Hoseok raises his eyebrow at you makes you want to scream. The smirk that has your omegan instincts rankled back on his stupidly pretty face.

"And if it is?"

Hoseok grins, reaching over to cup your cheek in his hand. Pinching the sides so that your lips push out. Holding you hard so that you can't squirm away.

"Then c'm here."

There are other things that you both crave beyond sugar and sweets. kisses that turn into giggles. Hoseok's lips move, good and gentle for a second. Exactly what you need, what you've been craving. His kisses offer a little relief.

And then he bites your lower lip.

It smells like gasoline and sea salt and blood when you pull it apart. rubbing at your stinging lip, a little angry. You're not bleeding, but it feels like you could be. A Hoseok-shaped space over your heart, wrenched clean, bleeding because where he sits is so far. If the distance and wanting could make you bleed- you would be.

(Hoseok bit you to keep you close because, for a second, it felt like you were about to pull back. His alpha didn't like that.)

You bristle an omega that needs settling. Hoseok almost wants to bare his teeth at how on edge it makes him. You smell so needy. Sticky sweet the way that Jungkook does sometimes. Hoseok's half surprised that the other omega didn't get to you before he did. Usually, Jungkook is the kinda of packmate who notices these things.

You flush hot. Half anger, half wanting. "Bitch-"

Hoseok reaches down between his legs for the lever under the seat to push it back. He pushes his seat away from the steering wheel and makes room for you. He parts his legs wide and gestures to his lap.

"I said come here."

The beach is empty and so is your part of the parking lot. It's getting late, past sunset and into twilight. The butter in the back seat of the car gathers condensation and starts to thaw but you don't even think about it a little bit.

You don't think about the people who might be nearby, the people who Could clearly see what you're doing in the car as you clamber over the center console. You leave your shoes behind in the passenger seat (you already have a habit of taking them off in the car). Bruising knees as you move over to the driver’s seat planting hungry kisses along Hobi's cheek, his jaw, every inch of his skin that you can reach, and then his lips finally. So shaky with wanting that you're clumsy. gripping the front of his shirt.

You can feel his grin against every kiss. You can feel it when he starts to grimace and you pull back. Hobi winces covering your banged knee with his big palm. You'll definitely have a bruise tomorrow.

You just take his hand and put it on your hip higher, and he raises an eyebrow at your brazenness. "Wow, you really want it huh?" He taunts, and you melt against his front past the point of pretending that you're not fucking needy, that you don't need him and need this right now if he's willing to give it.

"Hobi please-"

He just laughs at you, "though you were gonna spontaneously combust watching Yoongi eat that tart- it was fucking hilarious."

You whine high and needy. But he likes to tease, and you like he when he teases. Is this what having sex with your best friend is like? All jokes and jabs and fun. It feels nice when you can feel Hobi's laugh this way. Pressed against your stomach when you shimmy closer. It’s a bit cold, but he's warm and big against your front sitting in his lap like that.

You lean back, and hit directly into the steering wheel and horn. You bury your blush in Hobi's chest as he laughs and laughs, and Hobi's hands fist on your hips, pulling you closer, then farther apart, then closer again.

"Hobi what if someone heard."

"They didn't- there's like no one here- fuck-" You feel his lips with every beat of your heart, kissing so hard it tastes like bruising.

He holds you around your waist and guides you into a subtle sloppy grind, he's only wearing his sweatpants, no boxers underneathand it's clear he's not as unaffected as he claims. The hardness tents in the gray frabric. Pushed up against you. His cock is already hard and firm and twitching.

The front seat of the Lambo is not as spacious as you'd like, but you don't care enough to move to the backseat. Already shaking from just a few kisses. You let out a small whine as he guides you to grind harder against his front, controlling your rhythm with two hands on your ass. You can tell you're getting sloppy, leaking slick. You feel hot all over, simmering as Hobi looks up at you and grins.

"You're like totally gonna cum from this-"

"Oh my god shut up-"

He leans in to bite the tip of your nose, "Make me."

A nearby gull caws loudly, dissonant with the darkness, it’s just a hair past twilight, and the streetlights cast his face in yellow and blue chiaroscuro. It's not private at all but it's perfect and as easy as breathing. Your hips, his hips, and not an inch of space between.

You curse Tae who finally convinced you to buy jeans again as Hobi helps you pull them off, jostling you, hitting your head on the top of the car with a muted "ow!"

Hobi kisses the top of your head holding it reverently while he giggles, and it feels like you're a pair of teenagers again. It feels like for all intents and purposes the last month hasn't happened- like you're right back to where you left off. None of this is heavy, none of it hurts.

The kisses don't stop. Migrating from your mouth down under your jaw, the hollow of your throat. You've soaked through the front of your panties, and Hobi pulls back to look down. Touching the little damp patch you've left against the front of his sweats humming thoughtfully. Breathing a little heavy. Hair all pulled at and messy from where you ran your fingers through it.

The quirk of his mouth is mischievous, "wanna rile the others up?"

You scoot back a bit, grinning, loving Hoseok is like a super special inside joke. "Just don't get my face."

Hobi snaps a picture of your thighs on either side of his, your pussy, barely clothed in semi-translucent fabric all dark blue. His cock wet and hard straining up against the grey sweats. He sends it and then throws it to the passenger seat to jerk you closer.

Hoseok’s phone starts vibrating almost immediately but texts go unanswered, every call goes unanswered in favor of shimmying his sweatpants down and letting his cock pop up, a pearly bit of precum already wetting the tip.

You still, and he guides his cock up at the same moment he settles you down, hand cupping your hip to guide you, pulling your soaking underwear to the side in his haste. His teeth grit and he sighs, you're so warm, so hot inside.

"There you go, is that better?"

"Fuck," you murmur, sinking down slowly, giving yourself time to adjust before your riding goes, still syrupy slow. “So much better.” You don’t want to thank him for something like this but you do anyway.

It’s unhurried as he pulls you closer and closer. You don't know why Hobi likes to fuck like this, so close and slow. Barely pulling back to fuck his cock in, he just keeps you close and lets you grind wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you as close as he can get you. The car starts to rock, squeaking, and the sounds of sex greet you as Hoseok fucks up into your wet hole. All sloppy and wet sounding, coupled with the smacks of your kisses.

“So fucking wet all the time, so fucking messy,” he growls out, and you whimper, pressing your face into his neck and gripping his arms helplessly.

“Can’t help it- can’t-”

He rises up, hands bunching in your short-cropped zip-up sweatshirt, to pick up up and down, up and off of his cock. Hoseok usually isn’t so physically strong, but he helps you ride him, making it faster and filthier. The fabric slides off your shoulders with the hastiness of your grinding, and the white tank top with the thin straps fall down to your elbow. He bites with his teeth when you clench around him, listening to the thud thud thud of your heart and counting every breath.

You get sweaty and sticky until the back seat of the car and all the windows fog up. Hobi kisses endlessly up and down your throat as his hands hold you loose and gentle and then tighter as he continues to force you up and down at a maddening pace.

Even with you on top, Hoseok is still an alpha, still needs to be in control. You can't move even a little bit without him controlling where you go. He pulls you back down into his lap and then pulls you tighter, forcing his cock deeper. You feel like you can feel Hobi all the way in your throat, letting out a weak sob.

"There we fucking go-"

"Fuck Hobi! I'm- please- I need-"

"You can- just-"

At the last moment, Hoseok's hand settles not on your side, but on your stomach, pressing down. you paw at his wrist helplessly.

"Don't! if you do that i'm gonna-"

But it's already too late, You cum, so worked up that it doesn’t take much, You'd like to think that you only squirt because he's making the fit extra tight with his hands, or because it's been a long time since you've cum at all. But you blush furiously as your cunt continues to spasm and drip.

Your Hand on the door keeps yourself up a little, almost forcing Hobi's cock out of you with how hard you clench down and drip slick onto his lap. Letting out a loud moan that someone could certainly hear if they were standing just outside the car.

Hoseok just fucking giggles.

You teeter, cumming so hard you're dizzy, Head lolling to the side until he guides you to rest against his shoulder. "I've got you, I'm sorry- that was mean," he drags his teeth down your scent gland and you tremble.

Hobi pulls back to look at the wet splatter. The front of his white shirt is translucent. He touches where it clings to his abs. Flexing and twitching. And then he looks up at you. As you shakily come down, keeping your pussy up, the head of his cock is still inside but not much else.

He pulls you back down, hard, and you yelp. hoseok has something in his eyes that's just as hungry as you were, something that you wouldn't be able to explain. You cumming doesn't make him quiet, it only makes him hungrier.

He guides you to bounce, up and down, at a faster pace, chasing his own orgasm now. "So, fucking needy, that's what you needed right?" He growls and you nod. Helpless. He forces you down on his slowly inflating knot a little, hard enough for you to feel it.

Your socked toes curl where you're kneeling, and he strokes up one of them. You jerk, ticklish, whimpering, body humming and oversensitive (is this how Jimin feels all the time?) His hand slides up your knee to grip you harder, and you squirm on his cock.

You rest your cheek on his shoulder, looking up at him. A little cock drunk, a little fucked out. "Like it when you call me needy, like it-" he kisses your slack mouth, bitten, pinker. "Cause it means you know I need you and you don't mind." you babble, and Hoseok just grins.

"Could never mind," His kisses interrupt his words. Like he can't be bothered to remove his lips from your skin long enough to speak. "need you too."

Hobi cums and his cock twitches. The smell of gasoline and burning tires on your skin. His knot inflates so quick and hard that you jerk, with little control of your body, curled to his chest- there’s little place for you to go. Shivering and twitching as his cum spurts, hot and wet filling you up with a sigh.

Which is how your face ends up hitting right up into his nose.

Hoseok has had more violent comedowns as he clutches his nose throbbing, wet and slimy blood. “What the actual fuck” you’re murmuring out sorry after sorry, still knotted together unable to move from his lap more than scrabbling at the passenger seat for some tissues, panicking until he starts to laugh.

And he's not angry no- he just laughs and wipes away the blood from his lips. “Not broken, don’t worry fuck-” it's payment for the teasing from earlier- karmatic because you don't like your alphas bloody. you hold the napkin to hoseok's nose and try not to move, his cock still occasionally twitching with a fresh spurt of cum. The nosebleed is over in a second.

It feels strange to laugh over something like blood, especially after the last few weeks you've had. But for once- it doesn't trigger either of you. He holds you close and gets blood on your sweatshirt probably but the car is full of the sound of laughter whereas 3 a minute ago it was full of the sloppy sounds of car sex and moaning.

“M’sorry”

His hands go up and down your waist, hungry, your slick is cooling and the sweat on the back of his neck is turning balmy. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean too.”

You try to pull back and squirm away from the way he’s holding you, but he holds you firmly against him. “Knots gotta go down soon, just stay like this a while.”

You settle, and he scents the top of your head, it’s useless, anyone will be able to tell what you’ve been doing after this, you can feel his cock twitch wet as he cums again a little more, and your pussy clamps down, milking his knot for all it’s worth. You sigh at the feeling.

Compared to your other packmates Hoseok is such a comfortable fit. Whereas when Namjoon knots you you can hardly move, Hoseok's knot is almost comforting. Soothing. The ache in you that wants to be filled truly quiet. (If you got a tape out and measured, you'd see that Hoseok's knot thickness is only a little wider than Namjoon's fully hard)

Alpha musk sweetens the air in satisfaction, but also challenge, the way that Hoseok smells when he and Jimin wrestle and he gains the upper hand- however briefly. Definitely not the way that the alphas usually smell after popping a knot.

You recognize the cross look on his face and aim to kiss it off of him. planting the type of kiss that almost always makes Hobi smile at the corner of his lips.

You pause for a second, for dramatic effect, but it still doesn't make him stop his pouting. “Okay- now you’ve got to tell me what's wrong you’re still literally inside me and you’re not smiling-” you laugh against his throat, pull back worried, “not that you have to be happy fuck- I didn’t mean-”

Your words jog him out of his thoughts and shimmies forward, Hoseok pecks your nose, your lips, still warm from your sighs and moans that he got out of you. His shifting causes his cock and knot to rub up and more fully inside you just slightly, forcing a tiny bit of cum to slip out, cooling and sticky.

But oh well- the inside of the lambo has seen worse messes in recent weeks. You sigh at the movement and rest your face against the hollow of Hobi’s throat, pouting petulantly as he continues the small juts of his hips, content to rip another orgasm out of you (although the front of his white shirt is already soaked translucent with it). He's competitive like that.

You grab his arms to try and slow him, already a little overstimulated and unable to feel your thighs, but Hoseok just grabs your waist and lifts you up, however briefly- to seat you more firmly on his knot, "Hobi fuck-"

There's an itch under his skin that just won't quiet down. Won't settle. You can see that now, his instincts are on edge, gnashing their teeth.

You tilt your throat, offering it up, bearing it to him.

Hoseok watches the action, eyes flinty. Sounding too serious. "How many times does Yoongi usually make you cum?"

Your eyes flutter, and he settles you back against his chest, his heart thuds quick against your ear, "like two or three times usually." Hoseok's knot deflated enough to pull out and he does it slowly, mindful of how sore you must be.

Hoseok goes slowly, but he’s still cum enough that you can’t clench closed enough to keep his cum in, you try and stop it but Hoseok catches your wrist so that you drip out, down, hitting the leather seat. He can’t stop watching you clench, hole pink and fucked, clit twitching because of him. Rubbing smooth circles on your thighs transfixed for a second but then reaching for his phone because.

“Fuck- Namjoon’s gonna go crazy.”

You cover your flaming face with your hands but you let Hoseok send another picture. This time of your wet and messy entrance, pink clit, a bit of his cum in the picture, dripped milky around the leather seat it's- fuck It's utterly pornographic. Might just as well send Namjoon into a rut with how fucking provocative it is.

Hoseok takes another, pressing the head of his cock to your hole, not inside, but just close enough that it's like they're kissing. Hot and wet and dripping with your slick and his cum. pooling a little on the head of his cock.

Hoseok sends it, and immediately gets another call from Namjoon. Hoseok sends it to voicemail only to grin at the amount that the pack alpha has already left.

“Guess how many voicemails he left?” You’re still shaking, still trembling from how hard you came, but Hoseok is so unaffected, all languid and satisfied.

“I don’t know, four?”

Hoseok laughs, husky, and pecks your shoulder. “Fucking seven” he clicks one and you laugh out loud for the scrabbling in the background alone.

“Jimin you are not going to drive to them- calm the fuck down.” Jin's says, sounding angry, in the background but Namjoon’s is deep. More of a growl. “Pups, come home right now, preferably before you end up knotted to each other in public,”

he snickers, "Too late."

You shimmy forward. Unwilling to separate from Hobi even though you're not knotted together anymore. You wouldn't mind just staying like this, cuddled up against his chest. But Hoseok knows what you want, what you need. He pulled out a little too soon (not for the knot, with that he was very very gentle) but because of your instincts. You still need him close.

He sinks inside of you with a sigh and you sniffle, “Keep it nice and warm yeah?” He teases, and you swat at his arm but let him. The drag is hot and filthy and slow.

You think that’s all he’ll do until He reaches down between the two of you to put his thumb and pointer finger around your clit. You jerk, scrambling to grip onto his wrist as he tugs.

“I thought you said Yoongi made you cum 2 or 3 times."

"Yes but- I'm sensitive."

"I like that you're sensitive, for the record, even though I'm probably going to tease you about this later." His voice is so husky, so deep and alpha that you melt and let him do what he wants.

You gasp and he plays with your clit, actually plays with it, rubbing it this way and that. Parting your lips to watch it tremble as you try and clench. His cock twitches where it fills you, starting to rock up and into you just a bit.

“That’s all you wanted right, just someone to touch you right here" He teases, eyes dark, breathing through his teeth as you clench. You tremble from overstimulation but nod dumbly.

Hoseok rubs the tight v of his fingers up and down, popping your clit up and down, such small movements that drive you crazy. You can’t clench any harder around his knot ( starting to fill out again, starting to pulse thick and hot) but Hoseok groans as you try to hold onto him, fingers going faster, sloppier.

You lean back, putting your hands on his knees, letting him see all of you, the damp hem of your shirt where you made it messy. Your pink cunt all for his viewing pleasure as you pop yourself up and down his length.

"Can't-" You're dumb, actually unable to speak as Hoseok starts fucking you again in earnest. The drag so much wetter with his cum already filling you up, squishing out around his cock again.

“Can’t come again?” He raises an eyebrow. “What? You’ll come 3 times for Yoongi but you won’t for me?”

“That’s not- it’s not-“ You can’t think with the way he keeps rubbing, tiny little movements as he continues to tug and rub, the small movements maddening. “Alpha!” you cry as he tugs again, cumming so hard and Hoseok’s fingers- tug again, milking a bit of squirt from you. Just a bit.

You clench so hard it forces his knot out, cum and slick dripping everywhere. Darkening his sweatpants with a dark laugh.

He doesn't leave you unfilled for long, guiding his cock back and forcing it to pop back in. The car rocks and you sob. And yeah- this is exactly what you needed. Your brain shuts off for a bit. You needed someone to fuck and knot the thought out of you gently, but not so gently as to let your mind wander.

You can tell hobi's close by the tone of his voice, how close to a growl it is. “Gonna make you milk my knot, gonna make you cum until Yoongi will have to compete with me. Until I’m the one who-“ Hoseok cuts himself off as his knot pops for the second time.

His knot feels hotter the second time around, thicker too- maybe it’s just because you feel so tight and full of his cum.

It’s calm for a second, calm. The sound of the crashing waves, his breath as he breathes in deep. You don't know how long you stay like that, so close to each other that you can hardly breathe. His knot still hasn’t gone down. His breath and your breath, you kiss his temple his cheek. And when you pull back to look at him, his face has that same look to it. You don’t even have to ask him, he already knows that you're going to ask what he meant by the last bit.

“It’s nothing.” but you wait because you know it’s not and that he's just working up to it.

You kiss at his temple. (How lovely is it- that your favorite place to be kissed should be called the same name as a house of worship?) Hoseok kisses you back just as reverently.

Earlier when he was thinking about something, he got that competitive look on his face, and he wears that same look now. “It’s just, earlier I was thinking about it.”

“When you were frowning the first time?”

“No. At the house.” Hoseok is silent for another second, rubbing a soothing hand down your spine. And you realize you’re not afraid of anything he might say, not even a little bit, not even at all.

“You said, with Tae- that you wanted to marry her.”

Hoseok closes his eyes, just briefly. His eyelashes catch the light from the streetlamps. “I've never thought about getting married, not at all, and I'm not asking that's not- I'm not-" Hoseok sighs, frustrated. He's fine with dirty talk and teasing but this- this is so much harder to say.

"I was just looking at you and wondering...wondering why you chose her out of the whole pack and not someone else"

Why not me?

You and Hobi have agreed that saying the scary things is the way you get through it. Love will do you no good if you can’t do it scared.

You pull back and the look on your face makes Hobi blush, it’s so open and honest, like a hint of humor chased with all the love in the world. Hoseok pulls you tighter, more firmly against him in the front seat of the Lamborghini.

You’ve only been officially official for the last few weeks. But already Hobi can’t think of his life without you, can’t think of any world where you don’t mean just as much to him as the others do. If mating marks could go 8 ways it would be an easy choice, but they don’t work that way.

He’s never even called you his girlfriend for Christ’s sake. And he’s already talking about mating marks and marriage. and feeling hurt when you offer those shows of devotion to other people and not him. Jealousy in packs shouldn't exist, but it sort of does sometimes. You nudge his nose with yours. A small little nuzzle. “You and I are more matching tattoo people, aren’t we? I thought you’d want more than just a ring.”

A laugh jumps out of Hoseok’s chest like lightning, surprising him with how little he expects it, “Really? Fuck- you’d get matching tattoos with me?”

You lift his palm up to your throat, the blank side and then the one marred by Yoongi’s mating bite. “I’ve already got one mark on me that I can’t erase, gotta give you the same treatment.”

He’s a little speechless, eyes glittering with stars (they’re just from the streetlights but still) you keep it going. “If you could bite me? Where would you put it?”

Hoseok sits up straight, dragging his kiss down the side of your throat, “here maybe?” the tops of your breasts, “or here maybe,” next to your heart, Hoseok brings his hand to his face, kissing the center of it. “Probably here.”

You cover his hand with yours and then grip his shoulder, thumb rubbing up and down his pectoral, your foreheads resting against each other.

“If you ever need, if you ever want- like today- you can just ask me.”

“You sure? It wouldn’t be like- too much?” you don’t say her name, you don’t say that it would be like before. But Hoseok closes his eyes, he knows you won’t ever do anything like that. He doesn’t honestly think you’d be capable of that…the guilt and the forcing.

Hoseok isn’t worried about it in the slightest. He knows if he ever felt even a bit like that, he could tell you and you’d stop without a second thought. Whatever you need. (If that doesn’t count as marriage, I’m not sure what god is looking for.)

“I’m sure. I like this, it’s nice.” It’s nice when it’s just the two of us, you’re my best friend.

You’re coming down, still resting against his chest. Hoseok’s knot will have deflated enough for him to pull out without pain in a few moments, a few breaths as you exchange sleepy soft kisses. Nowhere to go and nowhere to be. The panic has worn out of you. The frantic desire simmering low and sated in your veins. The fire turned down low. The fear was non-existent.

Until a loud screech punctuates the quiet.

It’s pretty immediate how everything falls apart. One moment you and Hobi are curled up against each other. And the next second you look over his shoulder and see the red and blue flashing lights. You have seconds, maybe a breath before the sirens blare and those lights flash brighter. A foreign voice coming over the loudspeaker shattering the quiet. “Stay where you are!”

“Shit! Hobi!” Hoseok jerks, you are still knotted together but he pulls you off of him with little care for your comfort. You don’t blame him too panicked as you slide to the passenger seat and he tucks his cock back into his sweats. Reaching for your jeans a second too late.

“Crap- pull up your pants- oh fucking hell-“

Both of you turn syrupy slow when the police officer taps on his window. Shining his light inside of the foggy car.

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Notes:

yoongi gets fewer parts in this chapter because he's going to get a dedicated moment in the next chapter!!!

to be honest- i'm not really totally sure that jimin in bily has autisim or not- if he does have autism slightly or not, he does have the same sort of sensory issues that i do, i guess i can't answer the question for jimin because i can't answer it for myself yet.

jimin like me- realizes that the sensory stuff really affects him- i think he's never been allowed to realize how things make him feel. he's never been that sure of his emotions and his feelings.

if leg hair has one hater it's me, if leg hair has no haters then i am dead.

i wrote this chapter with the understanding that if jimin does have some form of psychopathy- then jin certainly does have it too- like out of all of them i think that the dynamic that fits them best is "jimin is crazy and knows it, jin is crazy and doesn't know it."

Song inspiration is just Rm's- Around the world in a day. i know we only have one song but!!! what a break of charecter!!

was i inspired by namjoons "she a pro-rida, Oo Oo Oo Oo rida~" for this chapter? yes i was. and what about it??

hoseok and the m/c are such a mess i swear to god i love them so much like- they're just so cute in their little car sex scene.

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