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pullhisteeth · 1 year

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classified | eddie munson x reader

summary at your wits end, you put an ad in the classifieds for a special kind of tutor. Eddie finds it and takes you up on the offer. (nsfw) [13k]

contains smut (18+ minors dni!) – p in v sex, oral (f receiving), lots of praise, virgin!reader, fem!reader, hurt/comfort. eddie's a sweetheart, fluff, first time turned something more (?).

author's notes this one's a long one! the idea made me laugh and then it took on a life of its own. I want to say this is meant to be somewhat lighthearted and is not a suggestion that anyone should be having sex if they haven't already – your body's yours, baby, do whatever you want! no one should ever make you feel rushed into anything!!! anyway Eddie is an angel and I want one. bye!

Eddie's not sure why he's reading the newspaper. Boredom, perhaps; he's been waiting for Wayne to get home from his shift for over an hour. He's thought about calling the plant, but the walk from the couch to the phone seems to be the perfect amount of time to convince himself that he's probably on his way home already.

It's the Hawkins Post. It gets delivered by a snot-nose boy on a bike every week, thrown far too hard at their tin front door. Wayne reads it some weeks, others it gets used to wrap his lunch. Apparently this one he'd read it, flicked through the pages half-heartedly before leaving it open on a centrefold about the local elections. Trust Wayne to get bored of small-town politics, Eddie thinks.

So he picks up where Wayne left off, slowly pulling the pages apart, skimming stories about the endemic of teen pregnancy, or columns about the rejuvenation plans for downtown Hawkins.

Finally, he reaches the only bit of the newspaper that Eddie has ever found interesting: the classifieds (and, on the back of the classifieds, the call-girl ads).

He skims them, eyes brushing past ads for cleaners, dog walkers, nannies. Finds the ones hidden at the bottom – the letters written in code, ads for attractive female friends and women seeking younger men. He's never actually interested in them, but they provide a glimpse into the underbelly of Hawkins, a small town that is, for all intents and purposes, entirely normal. But nowhere is ever truly normal, and Eddie likes to seize the opportunity to pry into the scandalous goings-on of his boring hometown.

He's reading one about swingers when the one beside it catches his eye. It's plain – whoever paid for it kept their costs to a minimum. All it says is:

WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.

He stares at the bold ink, the statement in all caps that, despite being maybe the lowest cost ad in the whole paper – it's in a box about three inches tall in the very corner of the page – jumps out at him anyway. Underneath the title, it reads: young woman looking for judgement-free first time. Min. age 22, max. age 28. Must have experience. At the very bottom, in almost imperceptible print, is a phone number.

Eddie hadn't realised how close his face was to the page until he hears the familiar sound of Wayne's car pull up outside. He throws the paper down onto his lap and sighs before scrambling around to at least try to look casual, and not like all the blood has rushed to his face. In the few seconds he has between the sound of Wayne's car door closing and him coming up the stairs, Eddie tears the page out, folding it quickly and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans as he stands.

The door opens just as he gets to his feet, and Wayne comes trudging in with his steel lunch pail and heavy boots.

"Hey, Wayne," Eddie says, breathless, trying his best to sound level. Wayne eyes him as he closes the door, before turning to dump his stuff on the table.

"C'mon, kid, you promised me a burger."

The piece of newspaper stays in Eddie's pocket for three more days.

Wayne had been late getting home – something came up, but Eddie wasn't listening too hard, brain on that stupid ad instead – so their weekly trip to Benny's had run until the early hours of Friday morning.

And then Friday was work and Hellfire, which Eddie still leads despite having graduated two years ago, and this time the kids kept him going for hours. By the time he got home he hadn't even thought about the page before crashing into bed.

And then Saturday is family day, as Nancy puts it. Eddie had woken up late, rolled out of bed into the freshest clothes he could find, and into his van to act as bus driver for the morning. His little gaggle of unruly teenagers crammed into the back of it one by one, laughing and teasing and shouting. Steve's home became louder and still, Eddie relished in that feeling of peace he gets once a week with all these misfits he calls friends.

By Sunday morning, the newspaper had been long forgotten in the pocket of his jeans that he'd left in a pile on his bedroom floor. He's laid on his back on his bed, head dangling off the edge, puffing mindlessly on a spliff he'd rolled for himself two days ago that had also been forgotten. The room's a little fuzzy round the edges, just the way he likes it, the sunlight creeping warm paws up his arms. It smells funny in here, he thinks, so he turns over, pushes himself off the bed, and reaches up to open his window. On his way back to his bed, he trips on something, landing with a huff as his ribs hit the corner of the mattress.

"Fuck," he hisses, reaching down to pull the culprit off the floor. It's just an old pair of jeans, so he throws them into the corner, out of the way, and resumes his position, splayed out across the bed.

From this angle, with his head hanging upside down, he spots something by the pile of denim he'd just discarded.

His brain's ticking over slowly under the haze of being stoned, but after a second he realises what it is, and clambers all too quickly off the bed and across the room.

Maybe it's that haze, coating his brain with thick fog; maybe it's the fact that, in the year since he graduated, he's had to settle for quick fucks behind the Hideout after a gig; or maybe, just maybe, it's dangerous curiosity.

Whatever it is, something motivates him to move through his room, down the narrow corridor into the kitchen. There's something hijacking his limbs, and it reaches up to the phone on the wall. With eyes on the page in his hand he spins the dial, listening to the tone as it rings, rings, rings.

The longer he stands there, the more convinced he becomes in his intoxicated miasma that this is some kind of prank; he's going to be met with a stupid kid on the other end, laughing at him for bothering to call at all.

When he finally decides that this is just that, a practical joke, the line clicks. There's a low buzz on the other end, so low he thinks maybe the line just went dead, but then a voice.

"Hello?"

He's taken aback by the sound of it, but not so much that he doesn't notice the sleep coating it. Despite his stupor, he can't help but apologise.

"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"

"Who is this?" You're sharper now, coming to, and he kicks himself for fucking this up already.

"Oh, shit, uh, sorry. I called about… I got this number, uh, in the paper."

"Fuck," he hears you whisper. He's not sure if he was supposed to hear it. He feels bad.

"Sorry, I'll go, this was-"

"Look, I put that age range in the ad for a reason. I'm sick of gettin' calls from middle aged men, I-"

"I'm twenty-three."

You're silent on the other end for a moment, but he can hear your breath hitch.

"Well, shit," you finally say. "Y'don't sound it."

He laughs an awkward, stilted laugh, unsure what to say.

"Sorry, I've had so many guys – men, old men – callin' me up, tryin' to flirt with me down the phone, I just… The ad was a mistake, clearly."

He likes the way you talk. You've got a pretty voice.

"Uh, thanks," you say.

Shit.

"Fuck, sorry, did I say that out loud?" Moron.

You laugh, the sound fizzing down the telephone line, and it eases some of his insecurity.

"I'm sorry," he says, starting fresh. "I'll leave you be, have a good-"

"Wait," you bite, and he can hear you shuffling around. "Wait just a sec, I- fuck, where the fuck is it? I… Sorry, can you just wait for a second?"

"Sure, sure," he murmurs, trailing off when he realises you've set the phone down. He listens to the faint sounds of you rummaging around and swearing under your breath. He must look like an idiot, stood in his kitchen, smiling at his phone, waiting for a stranger he found in the paper.

He hears you coming back, footsteps getting louder, before you pick the phone back up.

"Y'still there?"

"Yeah," he laughs. You speak to him like he's an old friend and it keeps catching him off guard.

"Okay," you say. "Here's the thing. I put that stupid ad in the paper because I was sad, and my life has been a misery since then, because literally every guy who's called me has been, like, at least forty, which some people are into I guess but I'm not, and- Sorry."

You're rambling, stumbling over your words even though he can tell you're trying to be professional or something. He stays quiet and hopes you'll keep going.

After a beat, you say, "I guess, 'cause you called, you'd be up for it?"

"Uh, well," he stammers. "That's kinda why I called. Care to explain what it is you want, exactly?"

He's not sure where the sudden confidence has come from; maybe the weed's wearing off.

"Okay, yeah," you breathe. "So, uh, my plan, I guess, was that I'd… You'd take, uh, my virginity."

You almost whisper the last part, like it's some kind of slur, and Eddie can't help but laugh on the other end.

You start to sound exasperated, frustrated, so he tries to claw you back.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."

"Well, bein' all coy about it hasn't really worked out for me so far."

Can't argue with that logic.

"Okay," he says, trying to ignore the excitement bubbling inside him. You're a stranger, he's a stranger, and this whole thing is kind of weird. Shit, he thinks. Am I a perv?

"How do you want to do this?"

"Well," you start, sounding like you've got this part planned out. "First I need to know you're not gonna murder me or something, so I'll give you an address near my house but not at my house, and we can meet there whenever… and, uh, what year were you born?"

"What?"

"Just… So I feel a bit more sure you're actually twenty-three."

"Hah, okay. 1965."

"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"

"Shit, yeah, one sec."

His eyes dart around the room. With the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he moves as far as the cord will let him, to a drawer by the front door. At the back there's an old pencil and some scraps of junk mail.

"Got it!" he declares, too enthusiastic but it makes you giggle so he laughs too.

"Okay," you start, and you tell him an address he vaguely recognises, closer to the nicer side of town, halfway between here and where Steve's house is.

"It's a park, kind of. It's pretty public anyways, so if you were, y'know, planning to kill me or whatever, don't bother."

"I'll take that off the to-do list," he tells you through a smirk.

"Very funny," you say, your sentence half-formed like you can't find the words to finish it. "Wait, what's your name?"

"Eddie. Munson."

"Okay, Eddie Munson," you say before telling him yours and deciding that you'll meet him later that day. You tell him it's easier that way, that you can't bear to have to wait all week, sitting on the nerves that might make you change your mind.

That's exactly what Eddie does all afternoon. You'd decided on six that evening, when it's still light but late enough that you both have time to back out, and so he sits, stoned out of his mind on both weed and the phone call, feeling something he's rarely felt before.

It's like cola in his gut, bubbling and frothing every time he tries to move. Is this what people feel when they say they have butterflies? Because it doesn't really feel like that; it feels instead like the madness inside him is floating upwards, fizzing around his heart, prodding and poking at it at uneven rhythms. His mind is reeling, too; he hadn't really thought this through at all. What if, even after that call, you're still planning on playing some kind of trick on him? What if this is an elaborate scheme to publicly humiliate him? Maybe you get a kick out of that kind of thing.

There's another thing, creeping around at the back of his mind, lurking. It's that horrid hopefulness, the what if that feels so far from likely that if he lends too much time to thinking about it, he feels stupid.

What if you're great?

He shakes himself out, standing up off his bed. He'd been lying there for the past two hours, sobering up, dwelling on every detail of the call, lingering in particular on your voice and your laugh and the way you say sweet so often.

He doesn't know who you are. He didn't recognise your name when you told him, even though you're his age. He didn't recognise your voice either, but he likes it, and he wasn't lying when he (accidentally) told you it's pretty.

He looks at the clock beside his bed. The red numbers flicker as they change to 16:52.

One hour.

He's early.

It's ten to six, and he's early.

The sun's low but not gone yet, and the park you sent him to is actually kind of nice. He's in his van, waiting until it's a socially acceptable time to get out and wait for you. What is the socially acceptable time to get out and wait for the girl you've got an agreement like this with?

Before he can decide, he sees someone. They're in jeans and a jacket, red Chucks and hair lifting up in the breeze.

Without thinking about it too hard, he opens the door and hops out, slamming it a little too hard. The person looks over, catches his mop of hair over the top of the van, and stops walking.

"Eddie?"

He hears you call his name over the sound of his boots crunching on the ground as he rounds the front of the van. He looks over to find you, the person he saw walking over, looking at him with your hand at your brow, blocking the sun.

You're pretty – really pretty. He still doesn't recognise you, but he has decided that's surely for the best.

You don't recognise him, either, but he's hot. He's not what you expected; truthfully, you really had expected someone older, lying about their age to get in your pants, someone you'd have to turn down in this very public space, going back to your apartment alone and unsatisfied. This is not what you had in mind at all, but you're not mad about it.

As he comes towards you, you watch the way he walks, chest-first like he's exactly where he should be. His hair's long and a bit wild but it matches his style – ringer tee, messy black jeans, obnoxious denim jacket. He's got his hands in his pockets but when he lifts one out to wave at you awkwardly, you see the rings and know you're a goner.

You wave back, laughing lightly as he nears you. He's taller than you so you really have to squint to see him against the setting sun.

"Hey," he says softly. His voice is even nicer in person; he does sound older than he is, and he has an air of maturity about him, like he's too sure in himself to be 23, but there's also a boyishness somewhere underneath that endears you.

"Hi," you reply. "You're Eddie, right?"

He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.

"No, doll," he says, looking at you with a blank face. "I'm Keith."

"Oh," you say, trying to hide the flush in your cheeks and the way your face drops, but then he laughs and reaches out to hold your shoulder.

"Sorry, that was a bad joke." He squeezes. "Yeah, I'm Eddie."

You choose to ignore the overly familiar touch and the way it sends your knees all funny, and instead you laugh, a little awkwardly, and hold out a hand.

"Nice to meet ya," you say, firm.

He looks down at your hand as he drops his own from your shoulder. His eyes move between it and your face, but he shakes it anyway.

"Well?" he asks, and you watch as he smirks, staring you down, his hand still in yours.

"What?"

"Do I look like a serial killer? Scared I'm gonna murder you?"

With those final words he pulls on your hand, bringing you closer to himself. His confidence is only making that funny feeling in your knees worse, but what you don't know is that he's bluffing; before you stands a terrified boy struck dumb by a pretty girl.

"Hm," you hum, dialling up the dramatics to ponder his appearance. You take the chance to scan your eyes up and down his body, taking in the scuffs on his shoes and the pretty silver chain around his neck. From here you can smell weed and cigarette smoke, pretty aftershave and something deeper. "I don't think so."

"Damn," he quips, finally releasing your hand to run his own through his wild mass of hair. "I was really tryin' to look scary."

"You didn't do a very good job," you tell him, laughing softly, and he looks at you with a smile.

"Oh well," he says. "Maybe next time."

Ignoring the way that makes you feel, you take his hand again. It's your turn to pull him, dragging him behind you. The move startles him and he drags his feet for a moment before catching up, refusing to let go of your hand when you try. He swings them between your bodies theatrically as you walk him across the park, through a line of tall oak trees and onto the street on the other side.

"So," he says, drawing out the word. "We goin' to your parents' or somethin'?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head slightly with your eyes on the ground. You drop his hand and stuff yours back in your pocket. "I have an apartment, up by Main Street. This's just a shortcut."

"Oh."

You don't say much more after that. The walk is short; you were right, this is a shortcut to Main Street, one even he didn’t know about. It takes you past Steve's house, and Eddie prays he doesn't happen to be looking out the window at this precise moment.

You live above the pharmacy. You scramble with the lock for a moment, so he stands behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking around; it's quiet, the usual lull of a Sunday evening, the sun lower than before. He looks at the back of your hair and the way the light catches in it, hears the low curses under your breath as you struggle with the door. And then it's open, and you're inside in the dark, and he has to bring himself back down to Earth.

Your apartment is small. Behind the door there's a narrow staircase, and at the top another door. It brings him into your living space, which is cramped but clearly well-loved. You offer him a drink and step into the kitchen when he says yes.

He lets his eyes pass over the room. The ceiling is low, reminiscent of his own home, though the walls are more solid than the trailer. They're painted a muted, pale blue, a colour he's sure you didn't choose because you've covered as much of them as you can in things: paintings, framed photographs, postcards. The furniture is more to your taste, he assumes. It's all soft, rich greens and pinks.

You bring him a beer as he sits on the couch, sinks into the cushions, toes off his boots.

"Thanks," he says as you pass him the bottle and take a swig of your own. You take your own shoes off and leave them by the door, hanging your jacket on a hook there too.

"So," you begin, padding back over to him and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I don't know how this works."

"Well," he says, turning to you with one arm up on the back cushions, "I can talk you through it, but I need t'know where you're at."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, how far have you gone before? How far do you want to go today?"

"Uh-" You shuffle, squirming into the couch, clearly looking for the right words. "I've never… This is as far as I've ever got."

He breathes a gasp though he's trying to hide it, trying to stick to the agreement of judgement-free. "You've never been kissed?"

You just shake your head and the way your face creases, brows turned down, makes him ache.

"Okay."

"And I want to go all the way," you say quickly, all in one breath, finding your words. "Not too far, no extra shit, like, kinky shit, but the standard."

"O-kay," he says again, smiling this time. "So you know it's not as easy as… As in and out, right?"

"Yes," you spit. He flinches. "Sorry, it's just… It's hard not to feel a bit, like, insecure about all of this. Makes me a bit defensive, I guess."

"It's okay," he soothes, and his tone really does make you feel better. "No judgement here. I'm not new to sex, but I'm just as new to this whole… situation as you are."

"Okay," you sigh.

"Why don't we just chat for a bit? I'm not in a rush if you're not."

"Yeah," you agree. Eddie is easy, you're finding; no dancing around the point, but you feel you're being handled gently. Exactly what you want.

"So did you grow up here?"

Okay, so maybe the 'chatting' suggestion was a bit of a façade for the fact that Eddie has found himself fascinated by you, even in the short time he's known you. Sure, it's only been ten minutes if you're not counting the phone call, but there's something about you that piques his interest. And, if he's honest, he's not sure why he wouldn't recognise someone his own age in Hawkins.

"No, no," you say, leaning over to put your beer on the table. You wipe your mouth quickly with the back of your hand. "I'm from Illinois."

"Why are you here then?" He takes your que and puts his own beer down too, deciding that being intoxicated probably isn't the best idea.

"I dunno," you say, sighing again. Your shoulders go lax as you let yourself sink backwards and look up at the ceiling. "I wanted to go somewhere new, but not somewhere big. And the middle school here was hiring a tech assistant, so I applied."

"And you got the job?"

"Uh-huh. I start in September, figured I'd just move here early, try to find my feet."

"How's that going?"

"Alright, mister questions." You laugh as you say this and sit up, looking at him again with a smile. "It's going okay so far. People are friendlier here, but I haven't exactly found my people yet."

He hums, nodding, and you say, "My turn."

He looks up at you. "Do your worst."

"Did you grow up here?"

"Kind of. Somewhere near here, til I was eleven."

"Why'd you move here?"

"Hah." He goes all rigid and awkward at your question, shrugging his jacket off with his eyes on the ground. You take note of the ink you can see crawling up to his neck under the collar of his shirt. There's something else there, too; something pale and stretched, like a scar.

"It's complicated." That's the answer he settles on, keeping his cards close to his chest. "But I moved in with my uncle when I was in middle school. Been here since then."

"Is that why you're still here? Your uncle?"

"Kind of, but that's also complicated."

"Wow, okay, is everything complicated with you?"

"It doesn't have to be," he says. It throws you for a loop, the way his voice has dropped, fried and kind of… sexy?

You find him looking at you, and suddenly he feels really close. You feel this urge to climb out of yourself, away from this situation that isn't for you; it's never for you. No one has ever wanted to get this close.

"You okay?" he asks, his friendly tone back.

You're grateful he seems to be able to read you so quickly.

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's okay. If you want to, y'know, stop this at any point, just let me know, okay?"

"We haven't even-"

"Will you?" he presses.

"Yes," you promise him. He looks back at you like he's waiting, yearning for something and you don't quite know what.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why are you so far away right now?"

He's gone soft, leaning forward toward you, his arm still up on the back of the couch. Your eyes flicker to his fingers and the rings on them, the way they're sparkling slightly in the dipping sun coming through the window.

It fills your mouth with glue. The combination of his proximity and the question leaves you breathless.

"I just…" he continues. "You're hiding from me over there."

He's got a sticky smirk on his face, like he knows the answer and knows you don't want to tell him. He shuffles forward ever so slightly, letting you breach into his space if you want to.

You do, you really, really do – he's a kind stranger, doing a kind thing for you, even if it is a bit odd. You want nothing more than to relinquish yourself to him, and yet you can't.

There's a momentary staring contest between the two of you. The couch feels miles long and yet he's closing in. You feel suffocated.

"I'm gonna come to you," he says after a minute. "Is that okay?"

All you can do is nod at him. It's like your body's on fire, affronted at the idea of being touched by him and yet harbouring some primal urge, deep under the surface, to let him do it anyway.

He pushes his jacket onto the floor with his elbow as he moves himself down the couch toward you. Your eyes follow his arms and the way they stretch, and then the way one of them lifts. He plants his hand firmly on your knee and it burns through the denim of your jeans. You can't tear your eyes from it, staring blankly at his fingers, the way the tendons flex when he squeezes.

"We don't have to do anythin' you don't wanna do, okay?" he tells you. He's watching you, how you're watching his hand, how your hair still lights up in the sun. You're sweet, and pretty, and most of all he longs to know more.

"I'm gonna talk you through it," he continues, "kinda like a teacher, if that's what you want."

When you don't reply, he calls your name softly, and says, "Is that what you want?"

You look up at him and nod again.

"I need to hear it, sweets."

You tell him yes, that is what I want, trying desperately to keep your voice as level as possible, not letting on that it kills you every time he uses a petname like that.

His fingers dance up your thigh and back down to your knee, a repeating pattern that sends you dizzier the closer he gets to you.

"Eddie?"

His hand stills and he looks at you.

"Yeah?"

When he responds, you feel his breath on your face. He's close enough, now; you can really look at him, at the crow's feet by his eyes, the freckles across his cheek, the bend in the bridge of his nose that looks like maybe he broke it once. His eyes are really pretty, browned sugar and syrup, flitting around as he tries to read you.

"I've never been this close to anyone before."

He's watching your eyes as they move over his face, admiring the slight sense of awe in them.

"That's okay."

There's a sudden absence on your leg where his hand leaves it and it aches, like the bone is realigning. You swallow a whine and close your eyes when his hand finds your cheek.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispers. "That okay?"

You nod again and he lets the pads of his fingers smooth backwards into your hair where they take root, his thumb beside your eye. You feel him pull you in and his breath on your nose and then the strange sensation of his lips.

It's new but not unwelcome. He's soft with it, light as anything and quicker even, gone before you really know it's happened. Some kind of sudden urge takes over, though, because you don't like how quick it was, so you chase him. You plant your lips back on his, firmer than he had, your nose nudging his as you get the angle right. This one's longer and it startles him; you have to pull back when he starts laughing.

"Alright, alright, slow down," he says as you sit back, deflated. "You liked that, huh?"

You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.

"Can I show you somethin'?" His hand is on your neck now, burning its fires once more, and you can barely concentrate on him.

"Yeah," you breathe, a sigh of relief as he comes closer again. But as you close your eyes, expecting his mouth on yours, you can't help the whine that escapes when he misses, landing beside it. You feel him chuckle, a puff of air out of his nose, before he dots more kisses along your jaw. It feels nice, gentle and slow, like he's scared to break you if he goes too fast or comes on too strong.

The whine, lingering in your throat, moulds into something like a sigh – or even a moan – when he makes it onto the column of your throat. You swear you feel his teeth graze the skin there, lips following them over your pulse. His kisses turn hotter, heavier, and you can't help the way you keen into him. Without thinking about it, you paw at his shoulders and let your back arch as you breathe thick pants into the air of your living room.

When he pulls back again, you whine his name, gripping tighter where you've pulled his shirt into your fists. He laughs at you, head tipped back, as he smooths his hands up and down your arms; the gentle touch makes you relax and your hands unfurl.

"Good, huh?" His words are viscous, thick with want, but he daren't go too fast.

"Mm-hmm," you agree, nodding, breathing quick. Now that he's stopped, you have time to consider that, actually, you might be a bit overwhelmed; without thinking about it you sit back, returning to your comfortable distance by the arm of the couch, watching as his face falls.

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I just-"

"Yeah, take a second."

"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."

You watch him stiffen, awkward in the wake of the moment, and take the chance to admire him a bit more until you sense his eyes are back on you, and suddenly you feel very small.

"You alright?"

You nod, looking back at him, finding his face all soft and concerned, turned down so it makes you twinge.

"You're being so nice to me," you say. It comes out more as a breath, a string of words tied together with insecurity, all in the same exhale. You're not even sure you said it at all, but his face twists into something like shock.

"What do you mean?"

You sigh. "I dunno, I… You're just being very… kind. Are you always like this?"

He seems taken aback by the question. His hands are in his lap where his left fingers toy with the rings on his right. He looks away from you to stare instead at the beer on the table and the drop of condensation running a race down the neck of the bottle.

"You've really never done this before, huh?" he asks you, and now it's your turn to be taken aback.

"I'm not lying, if that's what you're getting at," you say with perhaps a bit too much venom.

"No," he responds, stern. "I'm just… Finding it hard to believe. I'm sure it's true," he says quickly when you open your mouth to fire something quick at him again, "like, I know you're not lying, but it's so surprising."

"How so?"

He sighs this time. He twists in his seat to face you, bringing one leg up under himself, the other dangling off the edge of your couch. "I'm gonna be honest with you right now, if that's okay."

"Okay."

"'Cause I feel like that's the best way to do this whole… thing, right? Nothin' in it for you, really, if we're not honest, or whatever…"

For the first time since you met him in the park, he's showing his nerves. It gets him all wound up, stumbling through sentences like the words are quicker than he can keep up with. It's endearing, really; nicer in some ways than confidence.

"When I saw that ad it obviously caught my eye, I mean, I called, but I just didn't know what to expect, obviously, and you're… Well, you're… normal? So far, anyway." He huffs the last three words out in a laugh, but you don't return it.

"What does that mean?"

"I just think I expected someone who puts an ad like that in the paper to be weirder, or something."

Your gut twists. Red flares of anger lick up your insides, popping and wheezing in your throat.

"What the fuck, dude?"

You stand, backing away, feeling that familiar creeping isolation; distance, walls up, get away. His face has dropped to something wider, fear in his big stupid brown eyes and mouth agape.

"I didn't-"

"I'm not weird for being a virgin. And just because you think I'm 'normal' doesn't mean this-" you gesture between the two of you with both hands, "-should be surprising."

"No, shit, sorry," he pants, desperation oozing, "fuck."

"I think you should go," you finally say. Your arms are across your middle, hands gripping your forearms. You don't dare look at him, even when he says nothing.

You flinch when you feel him come nearer. He steps over the threadbare rug on your floor and over to the corner where you've parked yourself.

He calls your name and you despise the way you soften at the sound of it.

"I'm gonna touch you, 's'that okay?"

You scoff, turning away from him.

"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."

"I'm not patronising you. You wanted me to talk you through it."

"Yeah, that. Not this."

"This is part of that."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Well this isn't getting me very turned on," you spit, turning back to look at him, your arms still crossed over your chest and the rising fire of anger flares when you find that cocky smirk on his face.

"Will you come sit down with me? Please?"

His hands are hovering awkwardly between the two of you, forbidden to come any closer but refusing to give up completely. You offer him an olive branch, dropping your own arms and taking his hand in yours.

He walks you back to the couch and sits beside you, turning your hand over in his on his lap. You both watch it, the way his thumb grazes your palm, tracing the lines up and over.

"Sex isn't just sex, you know," he says frankly. "Even when it's like this."

"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.

"It's about all the emotional shit too, and I'm gettin' the feeling there's a lot of that to get through."

"Mm-hmm." It irks you, the way he seems to know you without really knowing you. "You sound very wise."

He laughs at that, and you find yourself grateful for the reprieve, for the way the tension seems to lift just a little.

"I'm just being honest," he admits through a laugh. And then he turns to look at you, dipping his head to meet your gaze because you won't look up. His gaze on you is oppressive, unfamiliar, but you don't dislike it.

"You're really pretty, you know."

You just look at him.

"Hm?" he tries, dipping even lower to catch your eye properly. "It's true."

"A boy's never called me pretty before," you admit, words too quick for you to call them back. This is dire, this hole you're digging; after all this time, being honest is still so difficult, though it seems to come so easily to him.

"That's a crime" he says. And then he does that thing, the one you've read about in books, daydreamed about, thought about late into the night. He brings his hand to your face and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a light pressure but enough to move you to look up at him, sat upright, with your mouth dropped open in shock.

It's just as electric as you'd imagined; more so, even. Two points of contact. Who'd have thought it?

"I'm sorry I said something stupid," he tells you. "It was dumb."

You giggle as his fingers shift across your skin. Soon enough he's holding you in his hand again and you feel yourself leaning into it, again.

"Thank you for apologising," you say. "I think I can forgive it for now."

"Good," he says. And then, more coy, the act dropped for a moment, "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, but…"

Just like before, the words stall in your throat.

"You can tell me what you want, you know. It's why I'm here." Christ, his voice is like honey when he's this close to your face.

You pull a long breath in through your nose and close your eyes.

"I have this… fantasy," you begin, and you hear (and feel) him chuckle.

"Go on."

"I guess it's not really a fantasy, just something I've always wanted to try…"

"That's the definition of a fantasy."

"Hey," you scold, opening your eyes and swatting him on the arm softly. "You wanna hear it or not?"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, laughing again. "Continue."

"Can I sit on your lap?"

"Is that it?" he asks, laugh lingering, threatening to fire up the heat in your cheeks.

"Yes," you say pointedly. "I wanna try it."

"Go for it, baby."

He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the nickname; in fact, he smiles, grins almost. He moves his hands down, leaving your face for now so he can hold your waist as you move onto your knees and lift one over him.

It's funny, you think, how hard all of this feels; really, this is a very normal thing for two 23-year-olds to be doing, and yet something within you makes it feel mechanical, intentional. Perhaps you just need practise.

"Okay," he says as you settle, your hips halfway down his thighs. "You gonna get any closer, or am I gonna have to lean over an' break my back?"

"Am I okay to get closer?" you ask, not taking much notice of how your fingers are dancing around his chest, toying lightly with the chain around his neck. Maybe it does come naturally after all.

"'Course you are, here-"

His big hands pull you in by the waist so that you're seated on him, hips to hips. Your faces are closer now, too, so you can admire those lovely crows feet again and the bend of his nose.

"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"

"O-kay," he says, smirking again. "I like the attitude."

"Oh, for fu-"

He shuts you up with a kiss, takes your breath away like they all say in the magazines; this kiss brings the fire up to the hilt, pulls on the smoke and the kindling and sets everything ablaze. His lips move against yours like molten gold, hot and rich and bright, quick but tender all the same. You feel the heat of his stuttering breaths on your cheek and lean inwards, arching your back slightly, until you feel him moan.

It's a sensation you could get used to, for sure. It's fizzy vibrations on your lips, makes them tingle, all electric. And then, before you can really know it's happening, you feel his tongue on yours.

You're not even sure when you opened your mouth for him. But it's there, the new feeling. It feels wetter, less familiar, but it pulls an involuntary moan out of you and you arch your back even more without thinking.

You get into it, into the rhythm, and let your mind wander to the friction between your hips and the pressure of his fingers under your ribs. They're skirting the hem of your top, his ring finger dipping beneath it onto the skin of your waist. And then you think about it too much, take notice of it too acutely, and you're pulling back and panting, looking down at where his hands are.

"All good?" he asks in a voice that's new to you; it's lazy, his words fuzzy, like he's just woken up. You look up at him and his eyes are hooded, lids low, and he's wearing a dopey half-smile.

"Yeah, just… Feeling lots of things," you say; it's all you can think of to explain this.

"That's kinda the point," he reminds you, and then he's doing that thing he showed you earlier, kissing slowly across your jaw and down onto your neck. It feels just as nice the second time; nicer, even, because you're letting him do it and you're letting yourself enjoy it.

His fingers venture upwards, more of them sliding under your top, until he pulls back and says the fateful words you knew would come soon: "Can I take this off?"

His lips are still on your throat, so he doesn't see the way you wince. When you don't reply he comes back up to look at you. You turn away.

"Hey," he coos, one hand leaving its treacherous territory to hold your head again. "What's up?"

You huff. "No one's ever seen me… naked before."

He smiles, which vexes you. "I'm here 'cause I wanna, baby."

The fucking nicknames.

"I know, I just… Can you just-"

You hold his hand in yours and move it away from your skin, hold it in both of yours to keep it away from you. He breathes an apology but you continue.

"This whole thing, me never doing this before or whatever, I think it's probably got a lot to do with me not really liking this-" you look down at yourself as you speak, "-very much."

You see him take this in, how it melts his features and widens his eyes.

"Okay," he finally says. "We can take this slow, yeah? You wearing a bra?"

"Yes, Eddie, I'm wearing a bra."

"So let's start there. Top off first, and you can see how you feel."

"Okay."

You let go of his hand and he takes your shirt in both. You close your eyes as you feel him lift the fabric, bunch it around your breasts, your que to lift your arms. You do it for him and he pulls up, tugs it messily over your head and throws it somewhere across the room.

"Shit," he hisses.

"What?" you say in a panic, worried something somewhere has gone horribly wrong.

"Look at you," he croons. "So pretty."

The insecurity evaporates, coming off you like a heavy mist, as he dips his head to kiss your collar bones and across the swell of flesh beneath. He takes his time, sometimes pulling the skin between his teeth but never for long enough to leave a mark. At some point he nudges you back and reaches over his head to pull his own shirt off; before he commits, he looks at you. You nod.

This is the most flesh-on-flesh you've ever felt before. It's nice; you're both warm, and he hasn't once mentioned the eighteen thousand different flaws you know are on your upper body.

His is covered in ink – pretty, often in swirling patterns and on his arm there are bats. But between them, there's confirmation of your earlier suspicions: he's got scars everywhere.

You trace them with gentle fingers.

"Don't ask," he says, laughing awkwardly.

"Okay."

You lean back in to kiss him. You’re a lot less confident than he is at initiating, but soon enough you get the hang of it, and he lets you. He doesn't take the reins; instead, he gives himself to you, lets you find your feet by yourself.

You attempt to copy him, kissing his jaw and then his neck, and you enjoy the way he sighs and relaxes under your lips.

As you move further down, teeth grazing his collarbone, he says, "you wanna move? Couch isn't exactly ideal."

You finish your work with a peck to the bump of his shoulder and say, "Sure."

There's some awkward shuffling, and standing in your bra and jeans is somehow more vulnerable than sitting on him, but nevertheless you take his hand and lead him through the door to your bedroom.

He doesn't have as much time to take this room in as the last one, because he wants you on the bed more than he cares to admit. When you flick on the bedside lamp, finally acknowledging how dark it's become now the sun's started going down, all he really notices is how warm the room is.

"Here," he says, manoeuvring you as he pleases. "Lay back, yeah?"

You do as he says, sitting facing him and pushing yourself back so you can lay down with your knees up.

And then it happens: one of the many cataclysmic revelations of the evening.

"Good girl."

Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.

"Good?" he asks.

"Really good," you tell him. You haven't really noticed that your hands have laid themselves across your chest, but he can't stop staring.

"That's it, see? Love when you tell me what you like."

One of his hands joins one of yours where it's fidgeting with your bra, and the other smooths down one of your legs, urging you to straighten them. You do, and again he says those fateful words: "Good girl. Gonna take these off, yeah?"

"Wait," you snap, sitting up and letting his hand fall so you can lean back with your weight on yours. "Can we do it together?"

"'Course."

"And can I… Can I undo yours?"

"Shit, sure you can."

You sit up and he takes your hands in his bigger ones, moulding them so you're tracing your fingers down the plain of his chest and stomach. You follow the dips and creases, the taught skin of his scars, and finally reach his belt.

He's mumbling nonsense at you, too caught up in everything to keep up the teacher façade, pinching your fingers between his so you can pull the leather through the buckle and get to his zipper.

When you unzip and brush something hard, he drops his hands and tips his head back in a sigh. It's an unfamiliar feeling under your tentative hands but it's not unknown.

"Wow," you breathe, not really meaning to say it out loud.

"Shit, gotta get these off-" He pulls back from your wanting grasp to shuffle out of his jeans, leaving his boxers in place for now. One step at a time.

"Your turn," he declares, smiling, jeans and socks gone. He reaches over to you again to return the favour, undoing buttons and the zip and his wide hand on your hip urges you to lift off the bed so he can pull the denim down your legs.

There's no turning back now; you can never again wonder what will happen the first time someone sees you (nearly) naked.

You've thought about this before, turned an infinity of possibilities over in your mind, but this was never one of them. Not one of them included a pretty boy, standing before you, just as exposed as you are, pawing at flesh and telling you you're beautiful.

His lips ghost over you, beginning at your shoulder and creeping lower. When he reaches the middle of your chest he looks up at you, the angle a little awkward. You nod.

"What're you doing?" you ask him, moving backwards again as he crowds you.

"I'm gonna take this off," he says, tugging lightly at the band of your bra, bringing himself level with you so he's breathing the words into your ear. "And then I'm gonna eat you out."

He may as well be a fire-breathing dragon. His words claw at your scalp like flames and fill your lungs with heat, pulling a sigh from within. You lean back, lying flat on the sheets, and let him have his way with you.

But he doesn't move, first admiring the way you respond and then waiting, lingering above you, too far away.

"What?" you hiccup, looking at him, confused.

"Need you to tell me this is what you want," he tells you.

"This is what I want," you repeat back to him. And then, taking the plunge, you add, "I want you to eat me out, Eddie."

You relish in his response, the way you can almost see him shiver, bare shoulders twitching and chest deflating with a shuddery exhale.

"Christ, yes, okay."

His fingers inch around your back so you arch it, letting him toy with the clasp of your bra. He gets it undone quicker than you expected, and you can't bring yourself to focus on where it goes once it's off because he's got his mouth back on your skin and now he's biting marks in places that would make your past self blush.

You feel his teeth on the swell of your boobs, first the left and then the right, and the rough pads of his fingers over your nipples.

"Shit," you hiss, and then, "no, shit, don't stop," when he halts for a second.

"Feel good?" he asks, muffled with his teeth grazing the stretch of skin across your ribs.

"Yes, yeah."

Gripping the sheets, you arch again, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the goosebumps they leave.

His fingers leave them, too, especially when they dance over your sides, that bit that makes you feel hollow if you drift over it the right way.

"Can I take these off?" he asks, lifting his head to look up at you from where he's sunk to his knees. You're staring at the ceiling, too preoccupied to meet his eye, and the sight makes him huff a laugh.

"Yes," you respond too quickly.

As you feel his fingers curl around the elastic, he says, "Okay, you're gonna have to give me a hand, alright? Tell me if it feels okay or if you want me to move. Or if you want me to stop, obviously."

"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, pulling the material down over your knees and feet. At this rate, your bedroom floor must look like an explosion at the laundromat; dirty laundry everywhere, clothes all over the floor.

You're not sure why you're thinking about the logistics of tidying right now, though it doesn't last long, because the cool air on your core is a shock that jolts every limb.

Although he's wedged between them, you seem to have an instinctual reaction to the sensation of being exposed, your legs trying to close around him. His firm hands pull them apart, his fingers grasping the fat of your thighs, and then his lips.

They're on the softness between your legs first of all, nipping and pulling the skin between his teeth as he moves upwards. And then you feel them, the strange, wet contact. There's a feeling, something you think must be his tongue, licking upwards, before it makes contact with your clit.

The pressure is a thunderbolt to the centre, a shock that sends you arching off the bed with a gasp. Your grasp on the sheets tightens for a moment until you feel the roughness of his hair instead; without thinking, you've moved both hands to claw and pet at the crown of his head, earning a muffled moan when you tug ever so lightly.

He calls your name, pulling back, his words heard through cotton wool ears. "You're sure you haven't done this before?"

"Fuck, yes, Eddie I'm sure," you pant in response, desperate for the sensation of his mouth on you again. He obliges your unspoken craving, licking upwards again before settling comfortably at your clit. His firm hands dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs until one of them doesn’t, and before you can think too hard about it, you feel it just beneath his mouth.

The new feeling of his rough fingers on your cunt sends your eyes rolling back; you can't help but squirm and it's driving him wild, the way you're listening to him, the way you can't help but move, the way you're tugging at him without realising.

The gnawing tightness in your core nosedives when he slips, warm breaths replacing his mouth and fingers. You whine like a petulant child, making a noise you didn't know you could.

"I'm gonna use my fingers," he tells you, the distance between him and your cunt not enough to save you from the maddening huffs of breath as he talks. "Have you ever had anything inside before?"

It's funny, how nervous he sounds despite the fact he's knelt the way he is between your knees. His mouth was just all over you, and yet he's still a boy, turned stuttering by sex talk.

"No," you pant, "no, never."

"Okay, it might hurt, alright? You just gotta tell me to stop and I will."

"Okay," you agree.

He settles back into position, his weight rested on his elbows and his face and hand inching closer. You feel it, the stiffness of a finger, but the feeling is unusual and a little uncomfortable.

"You gotta relax," he tells you. "You overthinkin' it?"

"No," you bite defensively.

"It's okay."

You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.

"Do you ever…"

Another sigh.

"Do you ever touch yourself?"

There's a momentary flush of embarrassment, a conditioned response to being asked about this kind of thing, but you're here, in this position, naked, so you may as well be honest.

"Yes."

"Okay, what do you think about? When you do?"

"I, uh…"

"It's okay," he says quickly, "don't tell me. Just- just think about it now, right? Somethin' that turns you on."

Something that turns you on? What's turning you on right now is the handsome guy between your legs. His pretty inked skin, the stretch across his shoulders and the ripples in his back. His wide, firm hands, those obnoxious rings, the way he keeps telling you you're a good girl.

It swims in your mind, the vision of him cooing sweet praises, the fizzling memory of those words in his voice.

"That's it, you got it," you hear him tut, as though he can see inside your mind, read your thoughts. It pulls apart the tension in your core and across your shoulders, and then it's back, that feeling, the warmth and the fire, and you sink deeper into the pool of euphoria.

With one finger already half-way inside, he adds a second, his eyes trained on your face in case it's too much. But it's not; of course it's not. He knows he's good, but he doesn't think he's made a girl this happy in his whole life.

You feel it soon enough: there's a fizzing current that licks up from your cunt and into your gut where it lights your nervous system on fire. It runs laps around your body, pinpricks in your fingertips and behind your ears. You grasp at the sheets again, pulling, pulling, pulling, reaching for whatever you can to keep your body from floating away, because it really feels like that's about to happen; either that or you're going to implode, pulling the room and everything else with you like a black hole, hungry for more.

You barely notice the pants, your whiny moans and the repeated prayers of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, before you're coming apart. He's still going, riding you through it, basking in the sound of his name as it crawls from your mouth. So far he's kept his composure, ignored the searing pain under his boxers, but he doesn't think he'll hold out much longer.

"That's it," he coos, slowing down, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. You're panting, your breath hot and skin even hotter, and you can barely hear him when he speaks. The words carry, though, somehow; his praises of you did so good, and you're driving me wild, and, worst of all with the way it slaps you silly when it comes, I need to be inside you.

You sit up at that, holding yourself up on wobbling elbows to look at him. He's still knelt between your knees, hands resting on them, looking back at you with eyes turned dark and glistening skin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it takes you a minute to understand that he's waiting for your answer.

"Right," you breathe. "Yeah, okay." You scramble to sit up and twist yourself so you're lying the right way but he laughs and it makes you go cold.

"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"

His hand hasn't left you; it's on your ankle now, rubbing those same circles over the bone.

All you can say is, "That was insane."

He laughs again, a softer noise this time, and says, "It was, huh?"

"Yeah." You flop back, head in the pillows and eyes on the ceiling above you, your own fingers tracing up and down your stomach.

He watches you from the floor. You're all flushed, glowing something rosy and sprinkled with dewy sweat. And then he watches your fingers, their absentminded journey up from your belly to the dip between your boobs, and back down. You repeat it over and over, and though it's an innocent, repetitive stroke, it's not helping the pressure between his legs.

"I'm gonna take these off," he tells you, giving your ankle a comforting squeeze and tugging his waistband with his free hand. "That okay?"

It dawns on you, as you look at him, that not only are you lying naked in front of a stranger, but that you are about to see that stranger's dick. A stranger who responded to your stupid ad in the paper, who's agreed to this for some stupid reason, and who is stupid handsome and stupid nice.

"Uh, yeah, okay."

He says your name again and it sounds so pretty when he does, and then he says, "We can stop if you want, you know. You don't have to do anythin' you don't want to."

"No, I want to," you say. "I just… This is a lot."

"Yeah," he says with a smile, that one that drips with charm and tugs at your gut. "But you're all good. Done so well so far."

Your body keens at the praise, your back lifting off the bed and it's then that you notice the feeling of want biting ugly marks into the pit of your stomach. You look at him, and he looks back at you, and all you can feel is a gnawing emptiness, a need to be full.

"Let's do this," you declare, sitting back up on your elbows and watching him with needy eyes. He sees it, the darkness that has settled in your irises, the itchy fidgeting of your hands on your sheets.

"Yes, ma'am."

Slowly, he stands and tugs his underwear down his legs and onto the floor. It all feels very real, now that he's stood before you like this.

He laughs at your wide eyes, trained on the straining erection he just let loose. You've never seen a dick in person before, and to be truthful you're not sure you've ever really seen one in a photograph or a video – the adult section at the rental store isn't exactly somewhere you often find yourself – so you have nothing to compare this to, but objectively it looks quite big.

"Will it fit?" you say before you can stop yourself. It comes out a squeak and makes him laugh yet again.

"Yes," he tells you, "it'll fit. But thanks for the ego boost."

He's on his knees on the bed beside you now, moving towards you until he can use his hands to move your legs apart. He settles himself between them and sits back on his heels, leaving one hand on your left leg and using the other to take one of yours. He intertwines your fingers, squeezes, and pulls you to sit up.

"Here," he says, bringing your hand to sit flat on his ribs. He's controlling his voice as best he can, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as he feels right now. He can't help but stare at you, at how you're looking at him.

"I'm gonna show you how to touch me, okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. His hand moves yours down until it reaches patchy hair and then he curls your hand around his dick, his own hand still holding yours.

It's a new feeling, sure, but you're mostly enjoying the short hisses of breath he's letting out. When you move upwards without his help he almost moans, and you decide you'd like to do whatever it takes to make him do it again, and louder.

"Shit, okay, wait. Here-" He brings your hand away and lays it flat, palm up. "Spit."

You look up at him and find his wide brown eyes looking down at you, waiting.

So you spit into your palm, and he brings it back to himself, and moving is easier now.

"Fuck, okay… Yeah, just like that, that's it, shit-"

He drops his hand from yours and leaves you to find your own way, so you copy his pattern of up and down, slowly, twisting your hand as you go.

"Here, move your thumb over the- Fuck-"

You do as he says, perhaps too eager to please, and watch in awe as the muscles in his abdomen tense and he leans forward, resting his weight on one hand planted right beside your hip.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he says, taking your wrist and pulling you away, ignoring the way you whine.

When he says, "We can worry about me another time," you try to ignore the brief fluttering it elicits deep within your chest somewhere. Dwelling on things said in the heat of this moment isn't fair, you decide; he surely doesn't mean it.

With warm, now familiar hands, he helps you lay back down.

"You got condoms?"

"Oh." You don't, and the truth you're about to tell him is mortifying. "No. They all expired a few months ago."

"That's fine," is all he says, and the fluttery feeling returns when he doesn't ask any follow up questions. No judgement, as promised. "Just wait here."

His hand leaves you at the last possible moment. As he moves off the bed it runs smooth down your leg and over your foot, like he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear. You watch him hop awkwardly across the room and into your living room, the sight a refreshing injection of humour, helping you relax into the mattress again. He comes back with his jacket in one hand, which he drops on the floor after rummaging in the inside pocket and pulling out a red foil square.

He pulls it open with fingers that you realise are shaking slightly, and you wonder if he's really nervous, and if so, if he's as nervous as you are.

It takes a few seconds but soon enough he's rolled it on, breath stuttering and dry, and then he climbs back to you and his hands return to your body almost as quickly as they left.

He's hovering over you now, his long hair tickling the sides of your face and the tops of your shoulders, all the places the sun hits on hot days. You're too caught up in watching his every move, too keen to really realise what you're saying before you ask: "Will you kiss me again?"

He smiles and dips down wordlessly, letting his lips slip against yours. It brings back the fluttering and the fizzy feeling, the craving for him. As your tongues move as one, you feel his hand by your thigh, and when he pulls back he says, "You ready?"

You nod, and then, remembering what he said earlier, cement it in words: "I'm ready."

"Alright, I'm gonna go slow, okay? It's gonna stretch more than earlier, but you just keep me clued in, yeah?"

"Yeah."

There's a new sensation at your core, of wetness and something rigid. He's moving against your folds, finding no purchase in the remnants of earlier on, but then he nudges your clit and you jolt upwards and that's when he finds what he was searching for.

He nudges in quickly at first, enough to make you whine a pained sound. He matches it with a low grumble, a vibration right by your ear.

"You okay?" he's quick to ask, head rising to look at you.

"Yeah, yeah, just- slow, please."

"I've got you."

He doesn't move for a beat, eyes trained on the scrunch of your nose. He kisses it and feels you relax, so he keeps kissing, quick flashes over your forehead, your temple, your cheek. Each one brings new relief and as your back hits the bed again, he eases himself in a little more.

The stretch is definitely different; more. There's a burn, but it doesn't completely hide the wave of pleasure you get in the fullness.

"Gonna go a bit more," he tells you, and he does just that, going half an inch further, still watching for any sign of discomfort.

When you bring your knees up by his hips, he knows you're past the worst of it. He chants praise, telling you that you're doing so well, taking me so well as he keeps going, all the way until he's seated inside you, up to the hilt. You breathe in a gasp, filling your lungs, realising you'd been holding your breath for too long. And as you open your eyes, you find him staring down at you with concern and something else.

"You good?" he whispers with his face so close you feel the words as they settle on your cheek.

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

He punctuates this with a kiss, and then another, over the hill of your jaw and onto your throat. Your hands claw up his back, pulling him in until you're sure that if he were any closer, you'd fuse into one.

"Okay," he finally says, lips against the peak of your shoulder. "I'm gonna move. I'll go slow at first."

"Okay."

The feeling of him pulling out is new and nice, but it's nothing compared to the opposite. The combination of the two, the repetitive motion he picks up, is something you want to chase forever.

As he moves, he quickens, trying his best to keep his eyes open and attentive; it's difficult, though, when you feel this good.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' tight, shit-"

"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"

Your stomach twists into a coil again, quicker this time, and tightens as he picks up the pace. Above you he's all guttural moans and pretty groans, his lips grazing your cheek each time he moves, and soon his thrusts become too much. You're panting his name and he's panting yours, and along with the sound of skin on skin, that's all you can hear until he speaks gravel-churned words into your ear.

"Shit, 'm so close, fuck- Gotta get you there, baby, huh? C'mon, need you to come for me."

His words are joined by sloppy fingers between your bodies. They fumble in the dark, prodding your belly before finding slippery purchase on your clit. Sparks light up your body and all you can do in response is let it arch into him with a yelp of his name.

"You close?" he asks.

"Yes, yeah, shit, yes," you splutter back. It's like a chase, and you're catching up, quickly, quickly, quickly.

All of a sudden there's a white-hot flash that burns every inch of your insides. You tense, your body yawning open for him, wide and wanting; he doesn't relent, thrusts harder than ever, chases you in return as he feels you tighten around him. You release, the coil snapping, and he brings the pace down to see you through to the end.

There's cotton wool in your ears again but you make out his praises: "That's it, that's it, atta girl… C'mon, I've got you, you did so well."

When your breathing turns regular and your eyes ease open, you feel a warm knuckle on your cheek. He's still going slow, rutting in and out of you with ease now, and when you finally look at him he asks, "Gonna keep goin', that okay?"

You nod, throat closed for the time being so you make it as certain a nod as you can muster. His thrusts become quicker again, and the more he speeds up the sloppier he becomes. You feel sensitive, too warm but also too desperate to see, hear, feel him come undone inside you. It's not long until your wish is granted; soon his groans turn to whimpers and whines, and he calls your name as he shudders to a violent halt. It's intoxicating, experiencing this from underneath him; if this is what everyone's been talking about all these years, you understand why.

The room sways and whistles as he rests his weight on you. His breath, right beside your ear, is like a hot, damp rag, pulling at your sticky skin and the thrum of rushing blood. You hear him groan and then the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. The bed bounces gently as he huffs and flops down beside you, and, god, you wish so badly that you could keep those flutters under control because his clammy hand finds yours between your bodies and it's nice to feel the affection he's so devoted to giving you.

Sighing, he says, "Shit."

You laugh, scrunching your face.

"Yeah," you agree, "shit."

He squeezes your hand.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Really liked it."

"Okay for your first time?"

"Yeah." You turn onto your side to face him, looking up at his face. There are a few curls stuck to his pretty pink face, and you admire the bob of his throat as he swallows and the squeeze of his hand in yours.

"You're really pretty," you tell him. You're not sure if this is the post-O haze the magazines talk about, or if it's some kind of clarity, or if it's just that you have this boy in the palm of your hand and you suddenly can't bear the thought of letting him go. Instead you want to plant anchors, heavy lines that will keep him right where he is.

He turns his head to look at you and you see him flush even more.

"So are you," he whispers, with another squeeze and a kiss to your forehead.

There are a few minutes of quiet after that. The light outside is gone for good, so he's glowing a low golden in the light of your bedside lamp. He kisses you again with a fondness that surely shouldn't come with this exchange, which you had rationalised as just that: a transaction, a mutual agreement to get something done.

You see him open his mouth, as if to speak, but close it again, so you reach a tentative hand up and brush some hair from his eyes and trace your knuckle down his temple, urging him.

"My friends," he begins, hesitant, "they're having a party, next weekend. Steve, he only lives round the corner, we passed his house on the way here... You wouldn't wanna come, would you?"

"With you?" you whisper into the fizzy darkness.

"Yeah." He smiles, eyes fluttering shut under your sweeping fingers. "With me."

"Is it a date?"

"It can be, if you want. Or we can just, y'know, go as friends, or whatever."

"No one's ever asked me on a date before."

He smiles, and it's soft and curled with an affectionate pity; one that says I'm sorry, that's not fair, it's nothing to do with you.

"Well, wanna come?"

"I'd love to."

He pulls your hand up and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses your knuckles. Goosebumps raise across your thighs and arms, and you realise you're cold.

He seems to sense your discomfort because you feel him shift beside you. He pulls you up with him and helps you climb off the bed on wobbly legs.

"I should pee," you tell him, heeding the warnings of girlfriends past.

"You should," he says, a little deflated.

You don't move, though. To move would be to acknowledge the end – the end of the transaction, of the favour. It's not something you want.

"I, uh," you begin, stumbling, "Don't- Do you want-"

"I can go now, if you want-"

"No, no, it's okay, I mean, you can go if you want, that's fine, I just-"

Your eyes are darting all over the carpet, skimming discarded clothes, so you don't notice him reach up until he's touching your face, holding it in his palm.

"I'll stay, if you want me to."

"Yes, please."

He smiles at you, sticky with fondness and you can't help but smile back.

"I'm gonna shower," you tell him, leaning further into his grasp.

"I'll be here."

"Munson! You made it!"

In the middle of the busy room, there's a tall guy, broad and burly, like all the jocks you went to high school with. He's startlingly pretty, with golden hair and honeyed skin, a wide, bright smile plastered across his face.

He steps on unsure feet over to Eddie, who is stood partially in front of you; you're cowering behind him, willing the courage to lift you and push you into the arms of strangers. For now, holding his hand will do just fine.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie greets, meeting him in one of those boyish embraces. You look around, taking in the faces; it's not the level of the high-school parties you used to go to, and definitely not the circus of the frat ones you've sometimes found yourself at, but it's busy enough. Where the guy – Harrington – came from, in the living room, there's a circle of people who are all smiling in your direction.

"Who's this?" The guy is looking at you over Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie tells Steve your name, and then turns to you. "This is Steve."

"Hi," you say to him, smiling, trying your best to hide the cruel nerves.

"Nice t'meet you!" he beams back. It's infectious; your smile turns firm and genuine in return. "Here, come meet the gang."

"C'mon," Eddie whispers to you with a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls you through the entryway, into the large living room, following Steve. He drops your hand to give and return hugs, saying hello to each person. You stand and watch, unsure of what to do, until one of the girls – the first one Eddie greeted – appears by your side.

"Hey," she says, perhaps a little too close.

"Hi."

"I'm Robin." She sticks her hand out and you shake it clumsily.

Eddie's back, with his hand in yours again, on your other side. He calls her Rob and tells her your name, and then does the same for each person – Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, Dustin, El – too many for you to remember tonight, but you have a feeling you'll see them again.

"Hi, guys," you return with a wave.

Everything settles after that. You take a seat next to Eddie on the couch, legs up and over his own, making conversation with Robin who you like a lot. Nancy comes over and introduces herself again and you find you like her, too.

And then Steve appears, having disappeared twenty minutes before. He's a little drunker, and he hands you and Eddie a can each. You take it gratefully and open it, taking a swig.

"So," he begins, sitting on the opposite side of the circle to yourself and Eddie. "You from Hawkins?"

"No," you tell him, and repeat the story you told Eddie.

"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"

You turn your head to look at Eddie and find him having done the same thing. His eyes are wide, just as wide as you're sure yours are.

"Uh," you begin, drawing out the sound to buy yourself time.

"I did her a favour," he says, to your surprise, turning back to look at Steve with a sickly smile. "Just somethin' she'd put in the paper."

"That's so cute," Nancy says from behind you, her words chased by Robin adding a sarcastic, "Adorable."

The conversation moves on after that, and you turn around to Eddie again. He's looking back at you, his face pink and a smile tugging at his mouth. Before you can stop yourselves you're laughing, bursting into happy noises, bent double giggling.

He gives you another kiss, on the cheek this time, and quickly you settle back into conversations. The night is long and for the first time in a long time, it isn't lonely.

Hello! This is SO long - it really did take on a life of its own. I considered splitting it but couldn't find somewhere to do it, so I hope you enjoy this absolute beast nonetheless. I love you!

#ha ha I am sorry!#god it's long #I hope you love it <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #eddie fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie #eddie stranger things

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neo-percs · 7 months

Text

CHERRY POP:: ( day 17 )

WARNING:: fingering, fem! Reader, dom! Jisung, innocent! Reader, corruption kink, oral, fingering, teasing, edging, virgin! Reader.

SUMMARY:: studying with the boy who has a bad reputation within your peers, yet seemed so nice and harmless in your eyes.

You had heard about boys like Jisung. He was mean and liked to mess with peoples heads. But it was hard to believe when you sat next to him and he'd been nothing but sweet to you. He let you copy his notes after you took a sick day, he would give you small snacks from time to time, and even asked how your day had been going.

He had done almost everything under the sun to make sure you knew he had an interest in you. From letting you copy his notes and borrowing pencils, to bringing small snacks for you to share. He even went out of his way to buy a pack of bandaids because you always get paper cuts.

But the sad reality was that you were all to naive and bubbly in the mind to even catch his drift, he hadn't had a chance to even insinuate he had a sort of infatuation with the idea of pounding you stupid while you cry.

But the sad reality was that you were all too naive and bubbly in the mind to even catch his drift, he hadn't had a chance to even insinuate he had a sort of infatuation with the idea of pounding you stupid while you cry.

But then Jisung got his chance. Your professor had assigned that your deskmate would be your partner and that you wouldn't be given time during your lecture to work on it so you would have to meet up in your free time to get the work done.

And after an exchange of words the both of you decided to meet at Jisung's apartment to work together from scratch and finish while managing to get a good grade.

The last thing Jisung was worried about was his grade to be completely honest, he was focused on one thing, you. So when you sat next to him in your cute little sweater vest and crème plaid skirt that rode up your plush thighs while you skimmed over pages of the book your project was on he couldn't focus on anything but you.

And you had realized he had been looking at you for a while when you looked out the corner of your eye, the proximity between the two of you who had been so small. You both sat at the wooden desk right beside each other, you couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him looking at you so softly "what?" You ask in a curious tone while your eyes meet his gaze.

"Huh?" He asks, completely dazed as he blinks "you were staring Jisung" you whisper, Jisung only clears his throat and grabs the can of soda with a straw inside. "Can't help it" he mumbled as he caught the plastic straw between his teeth and let his lips wrap around it while drinking the carbonated drink inside.

"Why?" You ask tilting your head subtly as your hair moves a bit out of place. "I just need a bit of help" he feigned with a lost look on his face. You only lean closer to look down at his worksheet to see a few words scattered along in black pen messily while most of it had been blank.

"I can help. The page numbers in your notes have all the answers" you tell him as he picks up the thick book the both of you had been reading the past few weeks with your class only now having to work on the project. He flips through the beige paper on a small hunt to find the page written in his note.

Jisung had decided to contribute. He would rather still have a good grade on this project rather than you doing all the work, although it was hard to focus with your skirt riding up your thighs that had been pushed against his leg as you tried to look into his book and highlight some of the answers.

But as time went on Jisung had grown tired of watching you look down at the book and decided to take matters even further into his own hand. His fingers brushed against your plush thigh sending goosebumps up against your skin. As you shivered you looked up at him, your eyes flickering from the book to him as you had trouble deciding on exactly how you felt about his cold fingers rubbing up and down your thighs tickling you almost.

"You're very pretty, you know that right?" Jisung said as he tried to lower his head and catch the look on your face while you annotated in your notes to get some of your own answers. "Thank you-" you answered shyly hoping your face didn't get flush or your lips bite back the smile you wanted to put on so badly.

"No really! You're very cute" he said as his tone dripped in amusement, yet you hadn't caught the whim of it because his pale nimble fingers brushed some of your hair away from your face. You look up to see his dark brown eyes looking back with a look you had never seen before.

You shy away from him as you look away in hopes the conversation would stop. But it doesn't because Jisung is stubborn, his hand finds itself cupping your face and turning your head to face him. "Look at me" he demanded, his tone was stern, and who were you to disobey it?

When you look up at him with large doe eyes he can't help but feel his cock twitch in his pants at how cute you looked. "You don't have to be shy with me, I promise I can take care of you" he whispers just above a whisper as his eyes look at your plump and glossy lips. "Take care of me?" You ask, feeling your mind being scattered all over the place.

"Mhm, I can show you if you want" he nods as his fingers catch your chin in a small grip and a boyish grin that sat perfectly on his red stained lips from his soda. You nod in response, you wouldn't take any other way, Jisung was being selfless in your eyes as he offered to take care of you.

He smiled as he leaned in closer and you could feel his warm breath on your face as his cologne engulfef you. His nose brushes against yours as he closes the distance your lips press against each other.

Although you were fairly inexperienced in intimacy you tried to kiss back but you were stiff. Jisung only pulled away cooing at your desperate face. "Slow down. Let me guide you" he said, caressing your face as he pecked your lips.

"Okay" you say as you lean forward once more letting your lips gently collide, his lips move softly against yours, tilting his head Jisung deepened the kiss letting his tongue pushing past your lips and brushing against yours.

You let out a small whimper as your hand grabs onto his thigh which he didn't mind at all. Jisung thought your eagerness was so cute it turned him on. He couldn't help but let his hand trail to the back of your neck pulling you closer.

Your breathing was in shambles as you felt something weird that makes you shiver and clench your thighs together. Pulling away you press your forehead to Jisung's as you let out a small whine squirming in your chair.

"I feel so weird- I need help" you whine as you push your skirt between your legs hoping to relieve yourself of the sudden feeling inside your panties frustrating. "Yeah? You need my help?" He asked as his fingers trail your knee and up your thighs.

"Mhm, make it go away please" you practically moan as your hips shake, you clench your fist in frustration as it bunches up your skirt. "Can you lift your skirt so I can help you?" He asks as his large hand grasps one of your fists, rubbing gentle circles into your skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Okay" you whisper as you push your thighs together, slightly flustered at the thought of Jisung wanting to see under your skirt. Lifting it up Jisung's brown eyes were bestowed with your cute white panties, a bow on the elastic band, like a present just for him.

Jisung can't help but smile when he sees the dark patch growing as the seconds pass. Your body shivers at the way his brown eyes bore into the view of your clothed pussy and it makes you snap your thighs shut.

His lips pursed while his eyes didn't seem to move from your pantie clad crotch which you were tryin to hide from his vision. "Jisung- I've never done stuff like this, and you're making me nervous" you whine. He could only chuckle as his hands moved to your thighs as he rubs comforting circles onto your skin.

"It's okay. Remember I'm taking care of you. You trust me with your body don't you?" He asks as his eyes move to meet yours and in return he is greeted with a soft gaze. Jisung needed to see tears in your eyes from how good he fucked you. You only nod at his questions making the pinkette huff out a small laugh.

"Then open your legs so I can help you. I promise it might hurt a bit but I'll make you feel real good baby" and you shutter at the pet name he had assigned you and push your legs open regardless. This time Jisung wastes no time to tug at your panties and push it against your clit teasingly which earns him a delicious moan that fell past your plump lips.

Your legs quiver at the pressure on your clit, letting out a shaky breath you look between your legs and see Jisung pulling at your panties and pulling it to the side finally letting your pussy meet the warm air of his bedroom. Jisung could only bite back and groan at the view of your pussy glistening under the small desk lamp on the wooden table you both had been turned away from.

"Stand up" he says breathlessly, you listen to words eager to get rid of this tingling feeling between your thighs. "Sit on the desk" he directs as he pushes both of the chairs away from the desk as he waits for you to plant you butt on the wooden desktop. And just as you do you legs spread mindlessly and look up at him like a deer in headlights.

Paying no mind to the look you give him he lets himself move between your thighs so you can longer shut them, his hand makes no its way under your skirt with no hesitation. His middle finger glides against your slit feeling your slick stick to his fingers. You close your eyes and suck in a deep breath.

"It's okay, I'm gonna get rid of the weird feeling for you" he coos as he lets his ring finger and middle finger rub your clit with minimal pressure not to overwhelm you. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden pleasure as you release a breathy whine.

"Does that feel good?" He questioned as his fingers rub circles on your clit with ease as the slicked sound of your pussy greeted his ears. "Yeah, it feels really good. Please don't stop" you moan as you open your legs wider. Oh how Jisung loved the way you were falling apart and he hadn't even done anything major.

Pulling you closer to the edge of the table Jisung got down onto his knees he moved his fingers away from your pleasure seeking parts now as he had the perfect view. His hands wrap around your thighs as he looks up at you "is this okay? I can eat you right?" He asks as he kisses your inner thigh.

Your hands grip the edge as your knuckles turn a pale shade. "It's okay" you nod and watch as he smiles "good" he says back as he rips his gaze away from your face and down to your pussy with no regard for anything else going around you all.

The heat of his mouth nearing your pussy he licks small stripes against your clit before he sensually licks from your hole to your clit, and sucking on your clit with fervor.

You moan as your head falls back against the wall. The sounds you make are so pleasurable to his ears. He presses his nose on your clit, inhaling your scent deeply before his tongue dives inside your waiting pussy. You pull onto his hair, writhing against his face.

"Oh- fuck" you manage to whimper out you tug at his hair as he groaned, your eyes shut as you moan, Jisung groans hearing the foul language fall past your lips unexpectedly with neediness dripping from your tone. His hand moving from your plush thigh under your skirt, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit he pulled away, licking your clit once more his middle and ring fingers make way to your entrance.

Pushing in slowly you groan at the penetration, easing your tight walls around his thick fingers the slight burn and foreign feeling makes you whine. He pushes them deeper; you feel the cool metal on his rings all the way at the knuckles of his fingers as it grounds you from the euphoric feeling.

Pulling his head from under your skirt he looks up at you with your juices on his swollen lips and on his chin his fingers begin to move opening your eyes you look down at him feeling his gaze as he watches you react gasping as the feeling you grind down against his fingers "you like that? Hm?" He says as he licks your essence off of his lips.

His hair now disheveled as his cheeks were blooming with a soft blush, you nod eagerly "yeah? You want me to go faster for you?" He coos feeling you clench around him at the sound of his lewd words. "Come on, say it. Tell me what you want" he demanded, making you clench harder "yes please" you say, losing your mind on his fingers as you absentmindedly grind down on his.

He hums as he lifts your skirt bunching it over your hips he watches his finger get sucked inside of you. Moaning at the sight with sparkling eyes. His fingers hitting all the right places stuffing your pussy as the sloppy sounds of his fingers pounding into you as if you were his personal fuck toy.

"So good just for me right?" He asks as his tongue finds its way back to your clit, he looks up at you choking on your moans "only you I promise Ji" you say feeling a familiar pressure build in the pit of your stomach. "I feel something," you whimper.

sending tingles down your body before he licked big stripes of your cunt, sucking on your clit, his tongue working wonders on you. "It's okay just let go, cum on my fingers" he says possessively.

His thumb replacing his tongue as he rubs circles on your clit, your hips shake as your mind is clouded with the sudden rush of your orgasm. You let out an almost pornographic moan as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you until you ride out your high.

"Good girl" he coos as you grip his wrist as overstimulation starts to creep in. Waiting for you to come down he slowly removes his fingers as he is eager to taste you. Jisung's dripping fingers make their way up to your clit as his mouth makes its way to your puffy lips. he pushes his heavy fingers on your clit as he adorns your lips with light pecks and kitten licks before using his free hand to pull them apart and licking your hole. his mouth sucks you hard in its endeavor to suck out whatever your pussy allows him.

Your hips buck at the feeling the sloppy sounds make your head spin. one of your hands moves to grip the hair on the back of his head and you push his face into yourself even more "oh god" you say shivering at the feeling. Pulling away his eyes look up at you while his lips attach themselves to your thigh that still sat on the wooden table, he bites and sucks the skin on your thigh in different spots leaving red and purple spots to bloom into hickeys as the hours pass.

Pulling away he lifts his fingers still covered in your cum up to his lips sucking on them becoming addicted to the way you taste. "You taste so good" he mumbled as he stood up showing the tent in pants that seemed to grow. And once your eyes meet the bulge your eyes visibly widen.

You had no idea what you did to Jisung but his mind was in a haze "what about you?" You ask looking at the obvious boner sticking "I wanna help you" you whisper while your hand weakly reaches out to touch at him. And just as your fingers raze the bulge you see his thigh twitch.

"Are you sure you can take it?" He asks as he begins to fiddle with the button of his jeans. "I know I can" you watch the button come undone and the zipper being pulled down. You could only see the elastic band of Jisung's boxers but regardless you were still nervous.

Everything moved so fast yet here you were on his desk pushing back the books to the other side of the desk without any regards for the cherry soda can that had sat idly. You almost giggled in shock as you didn't even realize Jisung had pulled his jeans down to his ankle and was fisting his cock in his hands while looking down at your pussy that still had been on display.

You looked down seeing how tight his fingers wrapped around his length while translucent liquid seeped from his tip down his shaft. You reach your hand towards his fist and push it away, trying for yourself to do exactly what you saw, the slight squelching of his precum making friction with your hand had you clenching around nothing.

"Like this? Does it feel good like this?" You ask looking up at Jisung who had his eyes closed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth while his breathing was heavy. His hands now hold up the hem of his shirt while his hips buck into your hand.

"Mhm, just like that. Keep going" he says in a raspy voice. Fuck Jisung was gonna lose it hearing the way you giggled as you felt him twitch in your palm. "It's so pretty" you whisper to yourself as you move your hand harder. Jisung couldn't believe he was drunk on the feeling of your hand and he didn't even put his cock inside you yet, which brings him to his next conclusion.

"You know what would make me feel so much better?" He asks as he opens his eyes to look down on you. "Hm?" Your question is just barely focused. "What if I made both of us feel good at the same time Hm? You like that idea baby?" He asks. And there it was, the butterflies in your stomach churning "as long as it makes you feel good Ji" you mumbled.

God it was like you were heaven sent. He pulls your hand away from his shaft as he finds himself getting comfortable between your thighs once more his hand finds place at his base as he presses his tip to your clit rubbing his precum over it, your heavy breathing put Jisung in a trance that nobody has ever had before.

Before he could even push his tip to your entrance he opens the drawer beside him grabbing a condom and while the both of you exchange looks Jisung uses his teeth to rip open the pack and letting the wrapper drop the floor as he slides the condom over himself.

"You ready?" He asked giving you one more final look in hopes you wouldn't back out but also letting you take a chance at voicing you wanted to stop. But the smile on your face as you said "I'm ready" with a nod make Jisung smile proudly as his ego boosted beyond normal levels.

He pressed his tip against your entrance watching as it sinks inside your tight walls. The both of you hiss as your both looking down to we're you had been connected. You let out a small whine at the stretch where as Jisung slowly let himself push inside you slowly letting you get accustomed to his size.

Your hands move to his shoulders as your nails dig crescents into his skin, Jisung didn't mind he knew you were in pain, he decided to buck his hips just a bit to ease the pain you felt from the stretch. "Can I move more?" He mumbled as his hands hold your waist. You felt your walls ease around him so you take a deep breath. "You can move" you answer.

His hips gyrate as he thrusts into you slowly, the sound of your pussy squelching makes you feel slightly embarrassed, but your thoughts are irrupted by the pleasure which earns a moan from you. "It feels- good" you let your moan rip through your throat like a knife. "Yeah? I make you feel this good?" He asks with a foggy mind.

His hips rock into yours as his mind is clouded with the sweet smell of your perfume, his head drops into your shoulder as his lips leave small wet kisses. "You feel so fucking good" he groaned as he begins to suck on a small spot on your neck.

Your rigid walls rubbing against his shaft while you were already so tight and warm just made his eyes roll back while his hand mess with the buttons on your shirt to get the fabric that had kept your warm skin from touching.

Jisung was choking back moans as he pulls your shirt off of you and dropping it onto the desk besides you. Your head was tilted back as you let the pleasure wash over you like a wave. You wanted to drown in the ocean that was Park Jisung, and from the way his hand falls to underneath your thigh to hike it up onto the desk and he stroked deeper inside you he definitely wanted you to.

"Faster" you moan as your hand entangled itself into his hair pulling on his hair as your heavy breathing into his ear. "Yeah? You want me to fuck you faster? You're so greedy and we barely started- fuck" he groaned into your neck as his mind is blank.

How could you make him feel so good and you didn't even know what you were doing? Was it the way you moaned into his ear? Maybe the way your pussy felt around him as his hips are now sharply moving into you as his pace speeds up? Or maybe it's the way you were so easily falling apart on his cock as you come closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm.

"Yeah, it's so deep and it feels so good" you giggle out as you moan, your lips were swollen but that wouldn't stop you from biting them. You try to desperately roll your hips against his which makes Jisung lose his mind even more.

"Does it? Huh? You like it when I help you like this?" He asks as he leans back holding onto your thighs watching your cheek bounce almost spilling from the bra as he holds your hips still giving harder thrusts "Yes, yes, yes" you practically sob as his hips begin to deliver faster thrusts inside you. "So good" he moaned as his head pushes back into the nape of your neck you tilt your head to the side to give him more space.

You feel the warmth of his tongue licking a stripe on your bare skin slowly he began biting and sucking leaving behind trails of hickeys. "Oh fuck" you moan as you let your fingers slide through his hair your eyes roll back.

His hips buck into you harder and deeper making you clench down on him harder as you moan "you're so deep" you say while arching your back as the desk thumps against the dry wall a harsh sound of his thighs meeting yours resided in the air.

"You feel so good like this" he groaned as his hands grip your waist harder the feeling of your warm wet walls gripping him so good just puts his mind in a sudden state of cloud 9. The way you tugged his hair and dragged your nails across his bare skin made him want to cum so bad.

"please—" you begged as your head lulled back against the wall and your moans pushed him further to go harder and faster. You moan as you feel like your on the tipping edge of your orgasm, your hand falling in between your thighs to rub your clit in hopes to boost your hopes of cumming.

Pushing your hand out of the way stubbornly Jisung pushes the harsh pad of his thumb against your clit rubbing it as he moans out in the way your hand tugs his hair. Biting his swollen lips he pounds into you harder making your back arch even more your chests are pressed together.

The room was now warm as the sticky sound of skin slapping and the desk pounding against the wall was pretty much anyone could hear neither of you had shame in anything you did. The way he pounded into you could make it seem like a pornstar was just doing child's play.

"So fucking tight" he groaned as his hips sporadically thrust into you at a sloppy pace to feel your walls practically suck him back in.

The way your walls around his dick was absolutely delicious to ran he couldn't help but moan as his thrust pick up "oh my fucking god- you feel too good" he gasps as his thrust become deeper and sharp.

With each snap of his hips the sound of skin on skin resided in the air along with breathy moans, his eyes settled down on your where you were connected and watching how he disappeared inside you with every thrust.

Your moans were like a symphony to his ears and he just couldn't get enough. His lips press against yours out of desire to feel you, his tongue licks the underside of yours sucking on it while you moan into his mouth.

His dirty words make you clench around him tightly as you nod eagerly "it feels- so good" you gasp hoping that the feeling would never end. The small nipping of his teeth on your skin almost pushing you over the edge.

"I want you to cum for me, let that big feeling go and it would make me feel so good baby" he moaned as he practically slams into you so hard he begins to tip the metal can filled with the long forgotten carbonated drink.

And the mention of that feeling had began to build in the pit of your stomach "I feel like I'm gonna explode" you cry out as the pleasure drives you to tears as they cloud your eyes.

But that didn't stop Jisung from letting his hands trail to your back and unhook your bra, dropping it onto the floor with the rest of your clothes he took his shirt off as well.

Your sweet moans and whines were bringing him equally as close but he wanted to- no he to see you fall apart on his cock while you cum. And the way your bare chest bounced pushed him even further.

The way his pelvic bone made friction against your clit had your head spinning while the knot in your stomach was close to coming undone. And the feeling of Jisung's tongue against your nipple had sent shivers down your spine as you grip his hair harder.

"You like that? When I fuck you hard like this?" He asks with a hard gaze up at you who was nodding "oh you're enjoying this so much baby" he coo'd as you babble in coherent words in response to his dirty ones that sent you into a spiral.

"I'm gonna- oh god! It feels so-" you bite your lip as your eyes roll back. The sudden shock of your orgasm at instantly shut you up as Jisung chased his orgasm as your warm tight walls spasm around him. "Mmh, it's okay, you're doing good" he whispers as he feels himself being pushed over the edge by your whimpers while he fucks your through your high.

And like an artist playing in white paint Jisung spills his seed into the condom as a guttural moan as his jaw slacks. As he gives you a few more harsh thrusts. His last thrust is so hard that the desk nearly puts a hole in the wall, lucky for him the only thing that happened was the soda can with the cherry flavored drink inside spilled over onto the wooden floors and his desk.

The both of you sit in silence as you wrack your brains. Jisung realized how pussy drunk he had gotten as he slipped out of you slowly taking off the condom he tied it and threw it in the trash without a second thought his focus was on you. He rubs comforting circles on your thighs as you breath heavily with your eyes shut.

Your skin was glowing, and the warm lighting of the sun on your skin did all kinds of justice for you. "I'm so tired- I think this project can wait a little while" you say lazily as the feeling of soreness sinks in.

"Alright then, let's get you in a warm bath and some comfortable clothes. We can finish the project when you feel better okay?" He says as he moves away from you and your body warmth to grab his boxers "okay" you say content with his plan.

You watch him disappear into the bathroom connected to his room as you look at the 'cherry pop' can sit on its side still leaking with the red drink on the floor which you knew would grow sticky if nobody cleaned up.

And as time ticked away you watch droplets of the red liquid fall into a puddle on the floor.

#𖦹—( neo percs )#nct smut #nct dream smut #park jisung smut #park jisung imagines #park jisung x reader #park jisung hard hours

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heartfullofleeches · 15 days

Note

What if darling orders from a different restaurant and brie coincidentally arrives right when the actual delivery person does? I feel like he'd be jealous af

Yan "Pizza Boy" + Reader

Who is that-

Arriving at your street, tires screech to a hault as your home rolls into view. The driver takes a second look. Then a third - knuckles white as fingers clench around the steering wheel.

A car he's never seen before sits in the little parking spot outside your house. His parking spot. Some old, beat up hatchback painted the ugliest shade of blue he'd ever seen - tape covering its left tail light and bumper held on by zip ties. By now, the delivery boy has made enough visits to your home to recognize cars of your friends and loved ones. Who is this? The flickering sign atop the rusting hunk of metal lifted some of the weight from his shoulders - only to crush him with a new fear as the other driver casual steps out of his vehicle, carrying bag strapped to his shoulder.

"Oh, hell no-"

Brie curses under his breath - pulling into your neighbor's driveway with one hand on the wheel as he reaches into the passenger seat with the other. He quickly gathers his things, kicking the driver's side door open as he goes to exit - hissing in frustration as his seat belt digs into the flesh of his neck. He unbuckles himself, shutting the door behind him with the heel of his sneaker as he races across your neighbor's yard. He slows down to carefully step over their hedges right as the other delivery person reaches your porch. Brie curses again-

"Oh my God! There's someone hiding in the back of that blue car with the dirty windows!"

The delivery person runs off back to their car. With little time to celebrate his victory, Brie marches up to your front door and rings the doorbell. You looked surprised - yet oddly happy to see him. His heart flutters.

"You?"

Brie beans from ear to ear "Yup! It's me! Got another pizza for you here. Same as the last."

"Thank you, but I already ordered from someplace else. Couldn't find anywhere nearby with alfredo sauce pizza so I had to settle for the usual."

You were looking for him?.... The place he works for that is. Brie shoves the box against your chest, biting down the scream ready to escape. "Don't worry, this one's on the house too. We're still experimenting with the recipe so it isn't available on our menu yet. I'm sure my boss will be happy to hear you enjoyed it."

"Well... Since it's free I guess it wouldn't hurt to take it off your hands. Won't have to order out for a week at this rate. Do you have a number I can reach you at?"

Multiple issues could arise from giving you his personal number - Brie was too excited to dwell on future problems when he had your attention now.

"Sure! Do you have a pen and paper?"

In the time it takes you to retrieve said items the other delivery person returns. He looks at Brie, a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he inspects his face.

"Hey... Aren't you-"

"Their boyfriend attacked a guy once."

The delivery driver looks taken aback. "What did you say?"

"I had a friend who worked at this one other pizza place. He had a black eye the last time we met. Said the person with the exact address had a scary looking boyfriend who thought he was flirting with them. He moved last we and I think I know why."

Brie's smile widen as the wobble in the other man's voice. "Hey, man... It's not cool to joke like that. If you're trying to scare me off you'll have to try harder than that."

"If that's what you want-"

Brie drops the conversation there. No point in wasting any more of his precious time - not with you standing there, pen and a small notepad in hand.

"Thank you~" Brie scribbles down his number, tearing off a page of paper beneath the one he wrote on as he hands the notepad back to you - pen still in his possession. With other matters to attend to, asking for it back was the last thing on your mind as you then turn to properly greet the other driver. Brie turns on his heels and makes his way down your driveway, checking over his shoulder as he drops the pen off the sidewalk - watching it roll by the rear bumper of the car.

"Whoops- Looks l dropped my pen."

Brie crotches down to grab the pen, eyes scanning the dented license plate as his fingers graze the pen. He picks it up, jotting down the license plate on the scrap of paper as he stands and walks off in the direction of his car.

One light broken is bad enough. He wonders how that other driver's boss would feel with all four smashed.

#Brie my oc #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere #yandere drabble #yandere male

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kitmon · 2 months

Text

Get Into The Groove | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie finds you dancing while you’re home alone and, unsurprisingly, the sight has him careening into the bottomless gorge that is loving you all over again.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: allusions to sexy times 18+ only, no actual smut, FLUFF cuz I’m a sucka for it, established relationship, reader is explicitly referred to as “girl” and “woman”

Author’s Note: Just an itty bitty thing that came to me a while ago that I jotted down in between work and school :P hope you like it! And if you’d like to enhance the experience listen to Into the Groove by Madonna and Wango Tango by Ted Nugent!

There are few things that Eddie Munson looks forward to in life: a well-planned D&D campaign, a perfectly rolled joint— the premium shit— and getting home to you.

He whistles to himself as he skips up the steps of his trailer, chains and leather creaking with each step he takes and every key he flips in his hand. The entire day he had been anticipating this moment, just as he does every weekday, where he can come home to a warm and secluded trailer, see you and kiss you the same way he did before he left to work— deep and passionate and long enough to make you dizzy— and sink into his worn-in spot on the couch with you under his arm. He smiles at the comforting thought as he pushes the door in, humming under his breath as he steps inside.

He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl near the door with a clink before he begins peeling his jacket and vest off. His arm is halfway in and out of his jacket as his ears perk at the music trailing down the hall from his room. He finishes shrugging his jacket off, tossing it over the La-Z-Boy before he stalks towards his room, taking care to cushion his steps. As he gets closer he can make out the faint synth and the clap of the drum machine; it’s Madonna, he realizes.

He dips his head to peek through the slit between the door and the frame, eyes glowing with mirth as a wide grin consumes his face.

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free…

He hadn't expected to find this upon coming home. You’re usually stretched out across the sofa or his bed, mentally marking the bubbles of a quiz inside a Cosmo that Nancy let you borrow or smiling to yourself as you flip through the pages of one of your bodice ripper romances. Instead, from his vantage point, he can see you singing along to the tape that you’ve popped into his stereo, sipping a black cherry Tab as you skip around his room tidying up the cluttered space. You pick up discarded clothes from his floor, pinching that lacy number he stripped off of you that morning and dangling it over your pointer finger as you absentmindedly twirl it around before tossing it into the hamper.

Tonight I’m gonna dance with someone else…

As the song builds to its chorus you drop the clothes you're working with, take one more gulp of your soda and start bobbing your head and shaking your hips. With the way you sway, he can't help but admire how your frame fits under one of his ragged sleep shirts. Your legs are bare and enticing as you prance around with only your underwear on underneath, the reliable lilac pair that you wear flashing at him with every punctuated glide you make down your legs before flipping your hair back.

Get into the groove,

Boy you’ve got to prove,

Your love to me…

Your voice picks up in confidence and volume. Even if you're not classically trained, you make up for the wavering notes and shifting keys with your enthusiasm as you stomp about his room, shaking your head and shifting your hair as you swivel and cock your hips in a way that has Eddie swooning against the door frame. The door kicks open wider as he watches you, tongue licking at his canine in amusement and adoration.

Your singing subdues into little mumbled harmonies and a few enunciated riffs as you drag your hands from your thighs up your rocking body, your fingers catching the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your ass to offer just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glimpse. You writhe like a charmed snake in a wicker basket, your hands meeting over your head as you slither in mesmerizing forms.

You fall away from your dance but maintain the skip in your step and the nod in your head as you bend over and snatch a pair of Eddie's boxers from the floor. You twirl in place, boxers held to your chest as you get lost in the music, shifting your feet to twist you around, eyes closed blissfully.

“At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see— AH!”

You scream, chucking the boxers at Eddie’s head as you’re startled. He ducks as the garment soars over his head and he laughs at your reaction.

“Jesus, sweetheart! You almost took me out with my own drawers!”

“Eddie!” You scold, with wide eyes and a small crinkle between your brows, “You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re clutching your chest with one hand as your breath relaxes but your eyes screw up in mild anger at the fact that he snuck up on you.

“M’sorry! Didn’t want to interrupt the show.”

You groan, your hands crawling over your face as you wince, “You saw that?”

Eddie steps towards you, soothing your embarrassment by rubbing at your arms.

“Mm-hmm, and, if I may say so,” he leans in to whisper into your ear, “it was very sexy.”

You sputter out a giggle at him before taking your hands and pulling at the loose thread along the collar of his t-shirt— perhaps you’re the reason all of his shirts have holes along the collar.

“Of course you would find it sexy,” you tease as your fingers migrate upwards to play with the ends of his hair. “You could watch me floss my teeth and get a semi.”

“Can you blame a guy?” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you closer. “With a girl as smokin’ as you, it’s impossible to keep the little guy down.”

You snort, letting your head fall into his chest as he strokes your hair.

You bask in the silence for a moment, the two of you shuffling your feet and breathing each other in. The song’s ended by now and moved on to another poppy dance number that fades into the background.

“Think you can teach me some of those moves?” He questions into your hairline.

You hum, a smile coating the sound as you lean back to look into his eyes.

“I dunno, don’t think you’re limber enough to pull off some of these crazed gyrations of this rock generation.”

He smiles down at you, leaning close enough to nip at your lips, “I’ll have you know I’m a proper Johnny Castle, baby.” His smile gives way to a contemplative yet amused shape, “And did you just quote Ted Nugent to me?”

You nod your head as a wide grin splits across your face.

“Oh, you don't know what you do to me, woman!”

You squeal as he hoists you up and throws you onto his bed, your head falling back against his pillows as you laugh from the excitement of it. You fall into soft hums of laughter that slip past your throat as Eddie follows you down and climbs up your body, nipping at your calves and thighs, pushing his nose against the hem of your— well, his shirt— to reveal that worn lilac cotton that you make look like a whole Victoria’s Secret set.

“And I’ll show you dancing, I’m quite skilled at Zee Wango, Zee Tango.”

#I witerwy need him so bad #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie #eddie munson headcannons #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson stranger things

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podiumnorris · 10 months

Text

Paper Rings | L. Norris

In which they allow themselves to become undone in each other's touch, and enter a new phase of their relationship.

word count: 5,9k | warnings for mature content (18+); protected sex, fingering, a small nod to a breeding kink, inexperienced reader and lando (but they try their best), possible offensive language, other than that just lots of fluff | prompt(s) used: s35 and s31

Accidents. You hated them. But while normally associated with unpleasant events, for once in your life it had been good. It wasn't intentional that you met Lando Norris and became friends, but eventually, he had unexpectedly asked you out.

You had encountered the young Brit at a party of a mutual friend. You despised parties, and after you had arrived and greeted the birthday girl, you became to realise why; everyone was high off their asses.

It had barely been twenty minutes into the party, and you had already found yourself alone at the bar with a glass of sugar-free Coca-Cola. You did not like drinking alcoholic liquids, and you had thought you were the solitary person in this building to be feeling like this until you saw a young man sit about three metres away from you - most likely drinking the same exact drink as you did.

“I’m Lando,” he had said as he caught your eye, walked up to you and extended his hand for you to shake. “I take it you are not a frequent drinker either?”

Your rosy cheeks flushed while you shook your head, quietly confirming his thoughts. He looked stunning; bright eyes taking all of your attention from the loose blouse and neat trousers. And then to come back to the curls atop his head; you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

After talking with Lando for the rest of the memorable night, you ultimately felt your social battery run out and decided it was time for you to go, much to your dismay.

With his beaming smile and plumb lips shaping around his teeth, he gently assured you that it was no big deal, and if you had wanted to, you could meet up another time. There wasn’t a single doubt inside your mind when you have him your number, and he promised you he would send you a message after offering you a ride home, which you politely declined.

You had gone home that night, head in the clouds, and your fingers itching to look the youngster up on the internet. He had let it slip that he was a driver, though you weren’t certain for what. Was he a taxi driver? Bus driver, perhaps?

Whatever it was, you were too curious not to look it up. He had to have a social media page somewhere, and with a name like that it shouldn’t have been hard to find. Therefore you eagerly searched for his name; Lando. You hadn’t quite gotten his last name yet, so after searching past a certain star wars character, you finally saw his familiar face pop up on the glowing screen. You frowned thoughtfully. He was a Formula 1 driver. You weren’t so sure how he had managed to avoid that topic altogether, but it caused you to appreciate him even more.

It was about two to three months and a few cat and mouse games after that, around Valentine's Day, that he had asked you out. In the few months of being friends, you weren’t entirely sure what you had done to deserve such a kind human being in your life, but you accepted his invitation, nonetheless.

Therefore there you were; happily together for five more months - except this time as a couple. And it couldn’t have been better.

The both of you decided to take it slowly; neither of you had a lot of experience, and you certainly didn’t want to rush things that didn’t need to be rushed.

He had asked you to accompany him at races a couple of times, but you kindly declined each time. You felt like it was invading his personal space, like barging into an office when someone's at work. He could dismiss your thoughts as much as he liked, but it wouldn’t convince you. ‘Some day,’ you had promised.

Denying his kind invitation to his home race felt wrong, but you just weren’t ready. And he accepted that. So, you had made a comfortable spot on your sofa, windows open, and an iced tea in your hands while you watched the race weekend on your television.

You practically screamed when your boyfriend put his orange and chrome car on the first row. The season had been incredibly harsh for both McLaren drivers, but it ultimately seemed they were getting close to where they formerly stood.

And then, the race. Never in a million years would you have thought he would lead a race this year. It only was for a couple of laps, but he managed to pass the reigning world champion during the start and was ahead of the Dutchman even before the first corner.

The race was intense, and you had long forgotten your prepared drink and snacks on the table. But when Lando crossed the line in second place, you almost felt joyful tears escape your eyes. You could contain yourselves, wanting to seem strong for nobody in particular.

In the middle of the podium ceremony, your mum sent you a quick text, ‘he bloody did it again’, and you could no longer contain your tears. You took photos of your television screen, acting as if you did join him during this race. And oh, how you wish you had.

He called you as soon as he was finished with the media duties, like he always does, and talked you through his racing thoughts of the past three hours. And you could do nothing but listen intensely.

He went straight home to you after he was no longer required at the track, your apartment being a small four-hour drive from Silverstone. You had told him he could take some well-deserved rest first, and visit you the day after, but he just desperately wanted to see you.

After a few hours of eager anticipation, you heard the door open, concluding your boyfriend had let himself in with the key you had given him just the week before.

You shot up to meet him in the middle of the living room, where his suitcase and shoes had already been long left at the door. Your socks-covered feet tried their best not to slip from underneath you, and you embraced Lando in an affectionate hug, his arms finding their way around your waist immediately, resting his hands on your lower back.

You took in his scent, cologne mixed with shampoo from his shower after the race. He wore a hoodie from his newest merchandise collection, and you mentally scolded him for dressing like that with the heat hanging over your country.

“I missed you so much.” You told him, and you had. You always had to miss him for a couple of weeks at the least with the races, but he promised he would come back to you. And he always did.

“I’m here, love,” he murmured into your neck, his warm breath causing a shiver over your back. “And so did I.”

“You did so well.” You whispered tenderly, trying your best not to sniffle right then and there. But he caught onto it.

“Hey, hey,” he pulled back from your embrace, causing your hands to slide down to his chest, his palms resting on your cheeks. “Are you crying?”

You chuckled. Of course, you chuckled. How could you not? This man made you laugh with almost every single word he said, even when he tried to be serious.

“Guess I’m just a little overwhelmed,” you looked him in the eyes, those mesmerising irises looking back at yours - concern mixed with a smile. “It’s been a tough mental day, but seeing you back on that podium again -“ you paused for a brief second, a lump forming in your throat, trying your best not to fully let your tears fall. “It was all I could have asked for this weekend.”

He smiled. Genuinely smiled. He could barely afford any other emotion around you than genuine happiness, and you reciprocated that feeling.

“I did it for you,” he smiled, thumbs caressing your cheekbones, and you suddenly felt weak in the knees. His intense gaze, perfect smile, and lips wettened from the times he occasionally ran his tongue along them.

You weren’t exactly certain what came over you, but you grabbed the collar of his sweater, pulled him down to your height and embraced his rosy lips in a loving kiss.

He was taken aback, sure. But it merely took him a few seconds to answer your gesture and deepen the kiss even more.

“You didn’t just do it for me, and you know that.” You giggled as you pulled back for air, and he could barely open his eyes, still captured in the haze of your presence.

“Well, I also did it for you.” He answered, in that tone that he has when he’s excited, where most of the internet won’t be able to decipher if he’s crying or just genuinely laughing. But of course, you would know.

You looked at him, lips red from your kissing, and you chuckled once more. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you almost wondered if your eyes turned into heart shapes.

“Lando,” you breathed, his name being just a singular word, but it came out more shaky than ever. “I think I’m ready.”

He was at a loss for words. In the months you had been together, neither of you had initiated the following step of intercourse. And neither of you felt the need to. It’s not like you and Lando had never done this before. This undoubtedly wasn’t your first relationship. But you had thought this fell under the term of taking it slow, and the desire just had not been there yet.

Until now. And he didn’t know what to say.

“If you don’t want to, we can just-“ “No, no-“ he cut you off, trying to come up with the right words. He did want to, but it just didn’t come out. Your gentle smile started to turn into a frown.

“I do,” he started. “I want to, I-“ he was flustered. And slowly, your nerves started to fade, and a smile came back to your face.

“Lando,” it was now your turn to place your palms on his cheeks, resulting in his landing on your hips. “Easy. No need to get so nervous.”

He let out a profound sigh of relief, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You clasped his dampened hand, leading him to your bedroom. It hadn’t been the first time he entered this part of your small apartment, and neither had it been the first time he had been in this bed. But this time it was different. And he wasn’t certain if he should be nervous or excited about this next step.

You looked outside the window above your bed, the moon coming to stand high in the unclouded sky as the sun said a quick hello to its other half before starting to strike the horizon and taking the light with it.

The golden hour had started, and somehow it made you experience all kinds of things for this intimate moment.

You sat down on the bottom end of the twin-sized bed, pulling Lando down with you so he sad next to you. You experienced a tingling sensation between your legs, but you weren’t entirely sure how to start acting on it.

And then you did. Unknown courage entered your body, whether it was lust or braveness, you weren’t certain. But you carefully placed your lips onto his, after which he immediately returned the favour.

You carefully stood up, Lando wanted to follow your eager actions, but you gently pushed him back down on the bed and sat on his lap, a leg on each side of him.

His graceful hands landed on your hips, your hands on his warm face, as you both battled it out for dominance into the kiss. It wasn’t rough, but both of you were desperate.

Lando decided to take a bit of control, messily picking you up and gently lowering you onto the soft covers of your bed, not breaking the kiss as he came to hover above you.

When you broke apart for air, you reassuringly smiled at each other and loving eyes never breaking contact.

“You know, Carlos told me the other day that -“ “Lando, shut up about Carlos right now.” You cut him off as you passionately kissed him again, this time hungrily trying to pry his hoodie off of him, but failing miserably.

He broke the kiss, lifting himself up and taking off his neon yellow piece of clothing, only to reveal yet another piece in the shape of a t-shirt.

“I swear to god, you are going to be suffering from a heat stroke someday.” You chuckled at the man above you, delivering him a look and he took the hint and undid himself from his shirt as well before leaning back down to capture you in another kiss with a smile.

He didn’t answer your humorous remark. But he didn’t have to. You knew he wouldn’t listen anyway.

You allowed your hands to roam over his chest, down his abdomen and towards his joggers. But, before you could reach the hem, he stopped you. He gently shoved your hands away as he reached for your shirt, and you took the hint to sit up and assist him.

Breaking the kiss for no more than a few seconds, his lips were on yours again after successfully removing your piece of clothing and you took off your bra before laying back down.

Nerves settled in your stomach and Lando could immediately sense it.

“Hey, love,” he broke the kiss to look into your eyes, barely glancing a single look at your exposed chest just yet. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” you smiled at him and reached up to cup his cheek and gently stroke the area with your thumb. “I want to. But it’s been a while.”

He did nothing but smile at you. That warm, loving smile embracing all of the unique features on his face, the smile that got you head over heels for him in the first place.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Can I?” He finally gestured to your chest, and you nodded before biting your lip and letting go of his warm cheek.

Lando gave you a final kiss to your lips, before finding a path down your neck, towards the valley of your breasts. He placed his tongue around your left nipple while taking care of the other with his strong fingers.

A contented sigh escaped your lips, and you could feel him smile against your skin as you let your fingers glide through his soft curls. The hand that was caressing your breast hesitantly left its spot, and like it had a mind of its own, travelled down to your own joggers. Lando loosened the knot in the strings which were used to keep them up, and his mouth left the spot on your other breast.

He travelled down, placing delicate kisses on your stomach on the way, causing your hands to glide from his hair and land next to you on the mattress.

He shot you one last questioning glance, and you slowly but eagerly nodded, and he grasped this as his sign to carefully undo you from your pants.

Much to your dismay, Lando took his time. Your joggers slid off your thighs with ease, and you felt his delicate and strong fingers glide over your sensitive skin. You shivered out of sensual pleasure, and your boyfriend looked up with a sly smirk. Your thighs were one of your most sensitive spots, and his gentle touch sent goosebumps over your body. He now knew that, too.

When one of the final pieces of fabric had been taken off your body, Lando gently tossed it towards the chair in the corner of your room, where his sweater and both your t-shirts and his hoodie had previously ended up as well.

You looked at him as he stood at the edge of your bed, and you couldn't decide what you desired to do more; hide yourself from his intense gaze, or let your mouth water at the sight of his trained torso.

Lando, however, didn't allow you to think twice and was soon quick to hover back above you and plant another kiss on your reddened lips.

His wet kisses went towards your neck, to a certain spot just below your ear, towards the place your neck and shoulder meet. You felt his tongue on your skin, rosy lips surrounding the wet sensation, as he forcefully sucked on the spot.

Your right hand flew towards the nape of his neck, right where his hair ended, and tried its best to eagerly grasp whatever it could find.

Simultaneously, your other hand ended on his side, your touch tickling his exposed skin, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

Another sigh unwillingly escaped your lips at the sensation, and he got back up to examine your eyes.

Your pupils were heavily dilated, your breath was unsteady, and sweat started to form on your forehead near your hairline. But he couldn't help but look at you adoringly.

"Can I touch you?" Lando asked, a charming smile still plastered on his face. You could barely answer. Your chest felt incredibly tight, and your mind was filled with just one word as you looked at the man above you; love.

It frightened you. Absolutely terrified you. Neither of you had shared the three most famous words yet, and you certainly didn't expect it would take this to deliver them into your mind.

Feeling like you've let your boyfriend wait long enough, you eagerly nodded before giving him one last kiss.

Lando looked at the purple reminder on the side of your throat with a proud smile before he let his hands wander down towards your underwear. His eager hands slipped into your panties, a quivering breath escaping your lips as his thumb put pressure on your small bundle of nerves when he found it.

With one final look of approval, he slid off your panties with ease and stashed them with the rest.

His fingers caressed your thighs before finding their way towards your core. He slowly made his way towards the part where you desired him most, but not before teasing the whole area, naturally causing you to let out a frustrated groan.

Lando chuckled. Actually chuckled. It wasn't the first time he had done this tonight, but you never believed sex could actually be funny. And it made the experience all the better.

He finally thought you had had enough teasing for the night, and he carefully entered you with his pointer finger.

To be absolutely honest, he had no idea what he was doing. He tried to memorise stories from others or books he had only half read and then tossed them somewhere randomly, but he never came close to doing it like that himself.

Anticipating your reaction, Lando added another finger when he noticed you clenching around the bare minimum. He moved, slowly but steadily, and small moans began to erupt from your throat.

"Is this okay?" Lando asked after a few strokes, looking up at you to await your reaction.

"Apply pressure with your thumb, right here." You informed him, moving his hand in the slightest and repositioning it to your liking.

And once he applied pressure to the part where you needed him most, and hit a good spot inside, you were almost done for.

Your head fell back into the pillows while he felt his fingers gain more wetness from your core, and your hands reached out to grab a hold of his hair but were met with nothing but air.

He took the hint of your desperate gesture, slightly moving his head towards the direction of your hands as they were still grabbing around for him- like a child reaching for its toy.

You pulled on a particular strand of his soft curls, and he wasn't certain whether he groaned out of pain or pleasure. But, after detecting the sounds that escaped your lips, he was sure it definitely must have been the latter.

"Y/n," Lando breathed as he looked up, meeting your distracted gaze. "Your pretty sounds are like music to my ears, and I could listen to them all day."

You let a slight laugh escape your lips as your head fell back, and you gave another loving tug to his hair.

"Lando," you mimicked his tone, another quivering breath leaving your lips as he continued his pleasurable pace with his fingers. "I- I kinda need you now, are you ready?" You could barely speak, too distracted by the feeling between your legs and the butterflies that erupted through your entire body.

"I think I am," he said as he retreated his fingers, awkwardly looking at them as he secretly swiped them off on his joggers. "Might need a few- uh- strokes. But I think we should be okay."

We.

This was the moment you were about to become one, the final parts of your bodied finally exposed to each other.

"Do you have any condoms?" He asked, and you recognised the minor change in his voice; he felt awkward.

And you totally reciprocated the feeling. There was barely anything more awkward than sharing this kind of intimacy for the first time, being new to each other's likes and pleasures, and having to find out what turned the other on.

You sat up and leaned on your elbows before pointing at the closet on the other side of the room.

"They're in there, uh, top shelf." you stated, and he clumsily walked over to the piece of furniture. His eyes widened at the sight when he opened it and felt a sudden wave of redness taking over his whole body.

"There's- you have a full box of them?" He said as he grabbed the box and turned to you. You fell back, hands covering your flushed face.

"Diane gave them to me a couple of days after her party," you mumbled, a sigh escaping your lips. "She saw us talk and, well, yeah. You know her." A simple 'oh' had left his lips before he grabbed one chrome-looking package from the box and placed the rest back.

"Well, at least we have them." He laughed awkwardly as he returned to the bed, a shaky 'yeah' coming from you as a response.

You retracted your arms as you saw him sitting next to you on the bed, the golden light from outside perfectly framing his features.

The golden hour was made for him.

And you were the lucky one that had him in their bed.

Lando undid himself off his joggers, not caring enough to put them with the rest- so he just left them where he took them off. His boxers followed soon after as he sat back down on the soft covers of the bed.

You barely dared to look, but eventually, you did. And you carefully reached for his member, gently wrapping your fingers around the length. You looked up to search for a look that would tell you he was uncomfortable, but it was the contrary. He sought his best intentions to hold in a moan, but as you started to move your hand, he failed miserably.

He, in turn, reached back between your legs to bring back that on-edge feeling you almost felt before he stopped.

Warming up to each other, Lando retracted his hand, grabbed onto the wrist of your hand that was working on his member, and placed it beside your head. His fingers felt slick, once more covered in the wetness of your own arousal.

Gently, he came to a position in between your legs, leaning on his knees and his hardened length halfway towards his stomach.

He messily tried to rip the foil package in two, barely succeeding but ultimately held the condom between his fingers before rolling it onto his member.

Lando leaned forwards, and he placed his hands on either side of your head, your legs locking around his hips and your hands finding their way to his sides.

"At any time, please tell me if you're uncomfortable, okay?" he said, and you nodded eagerly before responding, "Same to you."

You closed your eyes as he wettened his tip with your arousal and carefully entered you. It wasn't pain that rushed through you, but it did feel unpleasant. You placed your hands on his chest to halt his movements and took your time to adjust to the new feeling of your boyfriend inside of you.

When you opened your eyes, you were confronted with the most caring and loving gaze you had ever encountered. You knew Lando wasn't experienced, and neither were you, but he genuinely cared so much about your well-being. It made this new experience so much better.

"You can move," you told him after about half a minute. "God, please do." He smiled at you before placing a delicate kiss on your lips, and he carefully started to move.

The feeling soon turned into pleasure for both of you and suddenly, neither of you could get enough of each other's touch.

Kisses were messy, loose strands of hair were being pulled, and nothing could ever beat this moment of being intimate with your partner for the first time. Lando made it perfect for you.

After a couple of strokes, you experienced a vaguely familiar sensation building in the pit of your stomach and a tingling feeling coming from your core.

But, you weren't quite there yet. Therefore, you grasped one of his hands and assisted him towards the part where you needed him the most. He took the hint, placed his thumb on your clit, and started making figure eights on the little bundle of nerves. It wasn't perfect, but it worked, and his name started rolling off your tongue more than once.

And it was the same for him. Watching you unravel in pleasure caused by him, your breasts bouncing with each move of his hips like you were a machine tangled in each other. And at that moment, it felt like you only worked with each other.

Your soft walls gripped around him, and he was afraid he wouldn't last much longer, but for you, he would try. For you, he would do everything.

"Lando, please move faster." His unique name escaped your sensual lips in a hurry, a mix of sighs and groans barely making it clear what you were saying. But he understood and got on with it.

"You feel so good," Lando said as he started building up a quicker pace. "Please tell me what you want. What you need."

"Anything, everything," you breathed, grabbing his hand that was working on your clit, and gently pulling him back up to get him into your line of view. "Kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it."

And so he did. It wasn't pretty; teeth clashing, lip biting. But it was everything you could wish for.

When Lando started to chase his own orgasm, he instinctively picked up his pace and twisted it into a couple of rough trusts. He wasn't certain what came over him, and for a second, he was anxious this might not be as pleasurable for you as it was for him. But all his worries faded as soon as you pulled him into an embrace, and he fell atop of you, his face buried in your neck, and you vaguely mumbled a couple of words;

"You can have my babies." You told him. He wasn't entirely sure where that came from, but simultaneously, he wasn't complaining.

You, on the other hand, felt embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth and mumbled a scared 'I'm sorry' to your boyfriend.

He retreated from your passionate hold with a reassuring smile, caressing your rosy cheek with his strong fingers. His pace slowed down a bit, but he didn't stop. And that eased your worries the tiniest bit.

"Don't apologise," he chuckled. This man, you thought. He can laugh about everything. "Though I'm not entirely sure where that came from, it might be a little too soon to be thinking about babies."

"No, please, I don't,-" you desperately sighed after taking your hand from your lips. "I don't want any babies. It just happened, I felt hot and my mind took me somewhere else and I just-"

"Ooh! So you have a breeding kink!" Lando exclaimed joyfully, and you felt your face redden at his blunt words. His movements halted, his hand returning towards the back of your neck as he rejoined your embrace.

"Do not fucking speak about this," you said as you hugged him back, feeling his bare skin against yours increasing the pressure between your legs. "In fact, don't mention it for another while. I don't want to think about it."

"As you wish." he smiled, and you were internally grateful he made no big deal about it and didn't find it the biggest turnoff in the bedroom. Everyone has their kinks. You just didn't expect yours to come out during the first time with your current boyfriend.

Lando picked his pace back up, and the feeling in your stomach returned as quickly as it faded before. You let your hands roam through his hair, caressing the back of his neck, as he started pushing in with stuttering thrusts, each of them slow and deep instead of harsh and sloppy.

You tactically moved your hips, trying to find that little fiction from his pelvis against your bundle of nerves, but your desperate movement caused him to reach that spot inside of you.

"Oh- oh my god." You instantly moaned, and Lando came back slightly to look at you, asking if you were okay.

"Definitely. More than alright," a faint sound of a passionate sob escaped your lips as he continued hitting your pleasantest part, a smirk forming on his lips. "Right there, right there."

He felt satisfied with himself. For a second, he was that proud boy who couldn't handle losing. And he felt like he had just won his favourite game.

"Right there, huh?" he teased you, and you quickly nodded before he kissed you again. However, because of your shortened breaths, neither of you could maintain a kiss as Lando picked up his pace and tried to both chase his own high and bring you to yours.

Your foreheads touched, lips just inches away from their other half as the both of you breathed through your mouths to get more air.

Lando shot a brief glance to where your bodies met before he could barely hold on to his pace and started to get sloppy.

You thanked nobody in particular that you had randomly come across a professional athlete. Because no other boy had ever even come close to the stamina the one above you had. nobody gave you the right amount of pleasure. None of them listened to your needs, and most importantly, none of them had ever given you relief.

Your walls tightened, white noise filled your ears, stars came through your vision and you softly clawed on Lando his arms as your high washed over you.

This was how it was supposed to feel.

Lando let out a particularly deep groan, grunting in your ear as your name left his lips, and he released into the condom. The feeling of your orgasm was simply too much for him, but he wished this moment would’ve lasted forever.

For a precious second, everything went quiet. No sounds filled the room except for your shortened breaths, and you took the time to just look at one another. Both of you were smiling contently, and you caressed his cheekbones with your fingers. Lando closed his eyes, simply enjoying your touch, and you looked at the spot where his lashes met his glistering skin.

“Lando,” you started, and he opened his eyes to meet your loving gaze. “I think I-“ You could barely let it out, afraid of what might change. Did he even feel the same way? Did you feel that way? Or was this just the heat of the moment for you, and would you wish you could take back your words right after you said them?

“I love you, too.” Lando finished your sentence, adding the last part to let you know he did feel the same way. You chuckled and pulled him down towards your lips, giving him a kiss that held more words than you could ever speak.

You quickly became to realise Lando never pulled out, and his sudden movement caused you to tremble lightly, suddenly feeling overstimulated by the feeling between your legs.

“I love you, but I’m getting a little overwhelmed here.” You grinned up at him as you pulled apart, after which he replied a quick ‘right, sorry’ and carefully pulled out of you immediately.

A gentle sigh mixed with a moan left your lips at the friction, but Lando got up and went over to your bathroom to toss away the condom and returned with a dampened washing cloth so you could clean yourself.

You looked at him with adoration as he re-entered your room, eyes lingering on his trained abdomen and once more realising how good looking this man actually was.

“See something you like?” Lando said as he handed you the cloth, and you carefully cleaned your core and made sure not to touch any sensitive spots.

“Certainly,” you said as you got up and headed towards the bathroom as well, causing your boyfriend to frown in confusion. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’m just going to pee. Does wonders for your health.” You gave him a wink as you turned the corner while biting your lip to contain another laugh.

You were happy

Lando laughed at your remark before putting his boxers on and turning on the nightlight next to your bed. He slid under the covers, quickly checking his phone, though he didn’t find anything worth replying to.

Once you returned, you also put on some clean panties and joined him under the covers of your warm bed.

You shot a glance at your phone on the nightstand, lighting up with multiple alerts of missed calls and messages, but you weren’t worried about them for a second. The only thing you saw was the name of your friend in the notifications and decided to briefly look at what she needed but didn’t care about responding.

Please tell me you finally fucked.

He ended p2!! P2 darling!!

That has to be the perfect moment for a celebration.

She was unbelievable. Of course, this had to be her way of asking, so blunt yet totally in her style. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“What is it?” Lando asked when you put your phone back on the nightstand and snuggled into your pillows, your gaze pointing at the ceiling.

“Diane,” you simply answered. “I don’t think any more context is needed.” He let out a small chuckle at that, immediately knowing what you were implying.

“I take it she knows her box came in handy, then?” he replied, and you just nodded.

You looked over at him, laying on his side and not breaking his stare at you. His head fit perfectly in the pillow underneath him, and he looked so comfortable that you could nearly cry.

“I love you.” You said, this time officially and quietly, and he was happy to respond.

“I love you, too.”

You hated accidents. Except when you went from friends to this.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 smut #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #x reader #f1 #formula 1 writing #f1 writing #writing #f1 fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

seungbinbin · 1 year

Text

meet ugly - hyung line ver.

not every couple has a fairytale start !!

a/n: first headcanons ! idk if i like this format but i thought i could try <3 lmk what u think ! i was also sleep deprived and delirious writing this but i think it’s a little funny heh

warnings: curse words, very ridiculous writing, mentions of food, gn reader ! (lmk if i missed anything!!)

bang chan

you found out there was a new neighbor on your floor

and you were just so excited to make a new friend

plus you heard the lady from the leasing office saying he was really cute 🫣

so you decided to be nice and bake him some muffins for breakfast <33333

what you didn’t know was that your neighbor stayed up until 4am producing a new song

so when you knocked on his door at 8am, bright and early, interrupting his much needed sleep…yeah, he wasn’t very happy

“what do you want? 😒”

oh 😟

you just hand him the muffins, mumble a quick sorry and RUN

he only realizes how rude he was after he wakes up a second time, hours later, seeing the HOMEMADE muffins sitting on his counter with a little note

“welcome neighbor !!!! :)))”

oh my fucking god 😭 he just HAS to apologize

when he finds you (literally knocks on every door on your floor) he says he’s so very sorry and he’s speaking so fast it makes you giggle

“it’s okay, breathe!”

and he decides right then and there that he’ll make it up to you by taking you out for coffee 😋

lee know

studying at a coffee shop was the best thing ever for you

it made it easier to concentrate on your work, it smelled delicious, and the baristas knew you so they always gave you a little cake pop for free <3

you had been hard at work for hours :( poor baby, midterm season is ROUGH

deciding to take a break to rest your eyes from looking at your screen, and your hands from writing, you took a look around and spotted the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your entire life: lee minho !

his hands were full and he looked very annoyed and you thought "woah that's so much coffee!"

what you didn't know is that he had lost the rock, paper, scissors game for coffee duty <///3

and now he was a little (very) irritated carrying 8 cups of coffee

trying to balance 8 large iced americanos was kind of hard, especially in a crowded coffee shop in the middle of lunch rush

but he had everything under control !

until someone bumped into him while he walked past your table

suddenly there was coffee everywhere; on his shirt, on his face and hair, on your face and hair...and all over your table

thankfully, you had managed to pull your laptop away from the disaster before any coffee got on it

however...your review was all wet and messed up

your 6 page, hand-written review you had been working on for the past 4 hours

"holy shit, i'm so sorry-"

and then you were crying 🧍🏻‍♀️ he didn't know what to do

when you explained everything, he offered to rewrite the review for you 🥹

he took the soggy papers with him, then asked for your number (just to ask what he should write and give you the review, totally not because you were the cutest ever! )

changbin

changbin was having an off-day at the gym

he had been trying to beat his last pr but something felt…off

maybe he pulled a muscle while practicing choreography, or his new pre-workout never kicked in

whatever it was, his mind-muscle connection was off and it was beginning to frustrate him

he was so stiff and crampy and ready to go home after his barely-successful arm day >:(

he was angrily typing on his phone with one hand, complaining about his day to chan and holding a 40 pound dumbbell on the other

definitely not watching where he was going !

he walked right into a bench and hit his shin very hard ! ouchie !

which made him lose his grip on the dumbbell and he dropped it

…right on your foot 🥴

“OW, FUCK!”

“oh NO, ARE YOU HURT!?”

“OF COURSE I AM, YOU ASSHOLE, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

please don’t yell at him he didn’t mean to ! he tears up when he sees you start to cry in pain :(

so he apologizes (and keeps doing so as he carries you to his car so he can drive you to the hospital)

when you told him your roommates were out of town and you weren’t from the area, he offered to stay with you :(

and also offered to pay for any medical expenses

oh he just felt so bad 😞

but it’s okay! the doctor said it was a minor fracture that should heal up in no time !

and like…changbin made you laugh the entire time and he’s so kind and nice and pretty and buff…

perhaps you could forgive him for shattering your big toe! but just this once !

hyunjin

you just wanted a nice, peaceful day at the park

the weather was perfect for a picnic and a book and you just had to take the opportunity

a lot of other people had the same idea to visit the local park

hyunjin included! he wanted kkami to get some fresh air and to stretch his legs from being holed up in his art studio all day

everything was going perfectly fine

and then kkami managed to get out of his leash

chaos ensued; everyone could hear his dramatic ass screaming and chasing his little dog 😭

surprise! kkami ended up at your picnic bc he wanted to eat your snacks

“hello, sweet boy!”

he was so friendly, everything was going so well! you even offered him a strawberry

and then he peed on your book

and bit your finger 🧍🏻‍♀️

hyunjin gets there 30 seconds too late and now he has to apologize for kkami and his chihuahua-ness

“oh my fucking god, i’m so sorry, i don’t know why he would do that! are you okay!?”

yes you are…there’s a beautiful man right in front of you holding your hand and checking on you ‼️

there’s still dog pee on your book tho

“there’s a bookstore near by, can i buy you another copy?”

so cute <3 thank u kkami

3K notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 10 days

Text

Love notes (Charles Leclerc)

A look into Charles' notebook allows words and feelings to be exposed

Note: english is not my first language. The request didn't specify this, but friends to lovers was the first thing that popped into my mind and I know I'm not the only one whose favourite trope is that one so I did it ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: mentions Charles' father and his passing and implications of the loss of someone close to the reader

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"And you want me to tell you that code?", you asked Charles over the phone.

Your boyfriend needed to go to the bank to sort a few errands out, and since you had finished moving the last boxes of your belongings to his apartment, you stayed back to tidy them and organise them within the apartment. As it turns out, he forgot to take the documents with the codes.

"Yes, please amour - it's in my notebook on my desk on the office", Charles asked, "I think I went as far as taking the paper out a little so it peeks out but I forgot to take it with me", you could hear the smile and blush on his face.

"Let me go there - don't you mind me looking on your notebook though?", you said as you moved through the apartment, "by the way, I have already found some space in the kitchen for mug collection - yay! Okay, found the notebook - is it the document with your signature or the one that has the details?", you questioned.

"The one with the signature, at the end, left side", Charles repeated what the bank assistant was telling him so he could help you find what he wanted, "and it's the third and fifth number on the Mobile Key".

"Okay, I have it - it's 4 and 1", you informed him, "those are the third and fifth numbers".

"Merci amour, I don't think I need anything else! Once I finish up here, I'll head home to you, I love you! And Y/N, I trust you with everything I have - I have nothing to hide", he offered, making you bid him goodbye before ending the call.

His words ressonated with you as you flickered through the pages, noticing some doddles and racing notes before you decided to look at it from the beggining.

The first page had what looked like a poem and it dated back to the end of 2016.

My father told me to be careful

- Try to slow down a little

You don't ponder nor stay still

You don't belong or give yourself to anywhere

He said - my boy, you know what you're capable of

The world awaits you, go ahead and smile

You don't want to be left behind

It's not been easy dealing with everything. There's hope and there's the want to do more to prove everyone that I belong in Formula One. Still, I'm happy that Prema decided to have me race for them next year in Formula Two and things should go up from there. Time and patience, work and rest. Spending time with the people I love most and care about me the most.

Y/N also progressed on her studies and she's doing really well - she makes our friend group very proud! The guys are investing on their careers too and it's nice to see that, in a way, we're all growing up.

The page went on about all the whereabouts of the group, who had gotten together with someone, who had moved out of their parents' house and the ones who got work offers. There were jotted up plans for the summer holidays that, in hindsight, were mostly realized.

When you turned it to the next one, the poem continued with the same tone.

My mother said to me

- You have to see what's happening

That girl is much more than a friend

And you don't want to lose her

She reads it in my eyes

Or in my open soul

I don't know how she does it

But no matter how much I deny it

My mother is always right

I really like Y/N. Not just as a friend, but also as someone who I want to share my life with.

Whenever someone wonders how I think my life will be like in five, ten, fifteen years, she's always there. There's racing - me climbing up the ladder to points, podiums, wins and championships -, and there is my family.

Y/N and our own family.

Mum claims she noticed it since we were kids and that right now is the right time. Y/N is single again and I can't afford to lose her. Lose her as a friend or lose the opportunity to confess my feelings, or the worst one: lose her because she doesn't feel the same or feel like being in a relationship right now?

It's funny how this works, how much I care about her and how it hurts me when she isn't feeling well. Or how bad I feel because I keep missing some of her university milestones because I'm racing somewhere in the world but she always call me and I'm right in her hand while her family and our friends are in the stands or waiting area.

Even though I'm the one that's furthest away, she keeps me close.

Charles had notes about you? He always carried the little notebook around but you assumed it was because of important information he wrote there. You didn't expect this.

His words rang in your ears as, while your boyfriend had told you he had been crushing on you for a while, he had never admitted feeling this doubt. Not to this extent.

Suddenly, it felt like you were taking a look from a different angle at Charles' soul. The intimacy and vulnerability wasn't foreign and you fell in love with him a little bit more.

Today is the day to get closer

To face her and see what she says

And if luck follows me

As I'm writing this, I hope Y/N is getting ready to meet me in the park. She looks beautiful in anything, but I'm hoping she wears one of her dresses that make her look like a real life princess.

Maybe we will be happy

What I have planned isn't elaborate, because I don't think she would like a big production, and I hope it's enough to show her where I stand.

I asked maman for some help with the cakes and cookies and got the rest from the shop, we're going to have a picnic and I've decided today is the day where I tell her how I fell about her.

There is no point in hiding it, and Joris and Riccardo seem so sure that she shares the same affection.

Today is the day to grab her

I hope she does.

To be with the one I always wanted

And if the nervous voice doesn't fail

Y/N said yes to being my girlfriend!!! As it turns out, she does feel the same and we both agree that it was a mixture of stubbornness and bad timing for eachother. Now, it's the right place and the right time.

I hope we will be happy

The memory is clear as day on your mind.

I confessed how much I love her and she reciprocated it.

Charles asked you to meet up with him at the park because he wanted to talk to you. The seriousness of the text was confirmed when you arrived, Charles pacing around the picnic blanket until his eyes found yours.

"I can't pretend anymore", he said, "you're the first person I look for when I get somewhere I know you will be too, I can't stand to see you hurt or upset and I will kick myself every day if I'm ever the reason you hurt, which I hope I'll never be. You deserve the world, Y/N, the moon and the stars, and I'm going to get them for you because I love you", he offered.

You had been so dumbfounded that you could only approach him and kiss his lips, cupping his face closer to yours, "I've been in love with you for so long, Charles", you whispered back.

It was the day where your love story truly began despite having existed for all of your childhood. You were his and he was yours.

Come with me, love is not time

Continuing to look through the notebook, you spotted some racing notes with numbers and acronyms you weren't sure that they meant, taking a while to find another page that had similar writing.

It's not even time that does it

Come with me, love is the moment

In which I give myself

Y/N is asleep right now as we fly back home after the race. She hasn't left my side and I think this is the first time she's sleeping since we got the news. We knew it was coming, but it doesn't mean that it hurts any less.

In which you give yourself

The feeling is unbearable. Someone who gives you so much also takes so much away from you when they go away. There's so much to go through, and all of the feelings haven't come up yet.

Maman is waiting for us with Lorenzo and Arthur, and I hope we will all find peace with this heavy feeling together.

Y/N told me the feeling may never leave, it creeps up when you least expect it and there are no rules to it.

Time is precious and I want to spend as much time as I can with the ones I love. God knows I did that with papa and it still feels like it wasn't enough.

The creak of the floorboards alerted you that someone else was inside the apartment before Charles' head peeked, "Hello, mon ange", he smiled, coming up to kiss your forehead.

It's these moments where we're not doing anything particular or special that mean the most. Y/N has given me all she's got and I've given her all of me, at the end it's the most human thing to do. Be there. Be present. Allow the other to feel everything they need to feel and protect them. Y/N has protected me and she's never let me doubt that we are for each other.

"I looked through these - I didn't mean to invade your privacy but I got curious", you admitted. It would be no use to lie about it or try to hide it away.

Time will wait, stop there

"Did you like what you found?", Charles asked, pulling the other office chair to sit at the table with you, "I have this one here that I really like actually", he flickered through the pages.

So I can stay like this looking at you

Time knows well, even time understands

That someone doesn't rush

"I wrote this one when we were on holiday, it the boat", Charles tapped the page, "you looked so beautiful that day and I felt like I was running out of time to appreciate you. Then I spent the whole afternoon watching you and I felt like time slowed down a little bit because it knew I was appreciating you", he charmed.

That looks at you like I do

"These are very beautiful, Charles - this one is so beautiful", you smiled, kissing his cheek and cuddling up to his arm as he continued to leaf through the notebook.

Call me an adventure and come and have an adventure

There were also drawings and loose poems along with some photos he kept of you two. One of the hike you had done in Ibiza last year caught your eye. You stood on top of the rock and by the way your arms were positioned, you were calling Charles to join you in there while he snapped the picture.

Change my plans and I promise I'll believe

That I'm the only one you want to see when you wake up

Your haven if the world collapses

Come and deceive me with that look of yours

The sweet way that trips me and without counting

Quench my thirst with a kiss to shut me up

Make me a poem and let me stay

I do not forget

But I want to hear from your mouth all the words that make me blush

Speak softly in my ear

And grab my hand

"This was last year, one of the seasons where I had to deal with so much disappointment in racing, and you never let go. You were there to hold me everytime things didn't go well, to celebrate my achievements and my podiums, and you still make it feel like an adventure every single day", Charles mused, "being loved by you is assuring, comforting, liberating, soothing, amazing, incredible and the best feeling I have on the world! Loving you? It's as incredible as it is a big responsibility because I have to make sure the adventure is still there and that we're both in it", Charles admitted.

Before the night is over

"Being loved by you makes me feel like the only other person in the world", you looked up at him.

"Loving you is making sure the time stops when you're with me so I can tell you all the silly stories I know just to make you smile, all of this to make sure you know you're the reason behind my happiness and the one behind the longing that never lies when you're not there. It's hugging you back tight and have my heart wide open because it's yours to take", he sighed with a smile on his face.

"I love you, Charles - being loved by you is the best thing I get to experience in this life", you smiled before kissing his lips.

"This helps me a lot when you're not with me, it's like I can talk to you", Charles muttered, "and I get to have the memories written out too, you never know when this can come in handy".

"You have no excuse if your speech in our wedding feels impersonal or doesn't have any memories then", you joked as Charles' finger lightly pressed down on the remaining pages of the notebook, making sure you don't get the idea to flicker through the random pages he has used to doodle the perfect engagement ring for you, smiling at the thought of having you be his forever.

"I definitely don't, amour - I'll make sure it's a good one when the time comes", he smiled.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fluff

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minarinnn · 5 months

Text

AHHH THIS JUST INVADED MY MIND AND I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT IT

ok so imagine rin itoshi; fast learner, really good grades, top of his class, just a perfect student overall

and then there’s you; slow learner, average grades, late to class, forgets to do homework, and barely passing your classes

so what happens when rin itoshi somehow develops a crush on you?

academic! rin who whispers the answers to you in class

it was another normal day in class. you found yourself with your head laying on the desk farthest from the front, slowly dozing off and cancelling whatever it was your teacher was talking about

“miss l/n… miss l/n!” you heard your teacher yell at you from the front of the class. you lift your head up in slight panic, noticing your teachers furrowed brows and angry pout. “what’s the answer to question number 7?” she inquired, raising her brows and crossing her arms. waiting for you to get it wrong so she can, once again, scold you for dozing off in her class

your eyes roamed the board as they found question number 7. you didn’t want your teacher to scold you again, but was there really another outcome? you didn’t know the answer and you were put on the spot with little to no time to think

“uhh” you spoke, swallowing and taking a shaky breath as your eyes roamed the classroom. “it’s D” rin whispered from next to you. you give him a quick side glance. his teal eyes were focused on his notebook but he was the smartest in the class so you had no choice but to trust him

“it- its D!” you call out. your teachers eyes widen in disbelief as she looks back to the board once more. “c-correct..?” she muttered, still in shock over you getting it correct. she continued to give her class. “thank you” you whisper to rin, his eyes shooting you a quick glance. “don’t worry about it” he muttered, a slight heat rushing to his cheeks

academic! rin who allows only you to copy his homework when you, yet again, forgot to do it

“fuckk” you groan, banging your forehead on the table. “what’s up with you?” rin questioned from his seat. you both sat in the library because you had a free period. “i forgot to do the math homework” you spoke, worry and frustration visible in your tone and face “and i won’t be able to do it in time”

rin said nothing. he simply rummaged through his backpack, looking for his math notebook and upon finding it, pulling it out. he roamed the pages, landing on a specific one and sliding it your way. your brows furrow in confusion, looking up at him for answers. he’s looking away, almost as if he was embarrassed of something. “you can copy off mine” he says, his tone soft in contrast of his normal stoic tone.

“really?!” you gasp im excitement. he nodded his head, finally landing his gaze on your smiling face. “i could literally kiss you right now” you joked, pulling your notebook out and beginning to copy his homework. he rested his cheek in his palm, looking at you with the most loving eyes. “i wish you would” he muttered into his palm.

your ears perked up, not quite catching what he said. “what was that?” “i said i wish you wouldn’t” he lied through his teeth. you rolled your eyes playfully, dismissing his mean persona with a breathy laugh

academic! rin who volunteers to be your tutor as an excuse to spend more time with you

“you seriously still stuck on that question?” rin asked, his face scrunched up in disbelief. you glare at him, letting out a huff before speaking “not everyone has a big brain like you”. he rolled his eyes, secretly liking your compliment disguised in an insult

“i seriously don’t know what i’m gonna do for the test on friday” you sigh “i can’t seem to remember anything”. a light bulb lit up in rins mind. “i can tutor you if you want” he suggested

“you’d do that?” you questioned while he just shrugged, nodding his head a little. “wont i just stress you out?” you question again, not quite sure why he’s doing this

he let out a chuckle, scoffing a bit before speaking “you’d stress me out even more with all your babbling id you fail”. you open your mouth in shock but quickly close it again, knowing that was he spoke was nothing but the truth

“fine. i guess you can tutor me” you rolled your eyes playfully. rin fought every fiber in his body to not smile. spoiler alert: he failed

#thinking about doing a smut version of this but idk #bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin #blue lock rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi brothers #itoshi #blue lock x reader

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hotchfiles · 5 months

Text

lover to lover.

⋅☆⋅ mrsaluado's first xmas event ⋅☆⋅ masterlist

pairing: james x fem!reader.

summary: it's your first gift exchange as a couple and you are both dangerously lovesick.

content warnings: JUST FLUFF. I SWEAR.

word count: 1,4k

you felt silly, you felt like your gift was silly and felt even sillier for worrying so much about it your palms were sweaty even though it was very late at night and the house was surrounded by the whiteness of snow. this was your first christmas as james' girlfriend and even though you had been to his home before, that was the first time you would be staying the night as well.

to top that kind of pressure, it was the first year your gift to james would actually matter, you couldn't just give him a sweater, or a book or a coupon for free of charge homework help, it had to be good, it had to be meaningful.

and it was hard to do that for someone who had everything. he was the golden boy, not only were his parents generational wealth loaded, they were caring, loving and were always making sure he and his friends had everything they could ever need. how could anything you try to give him compare to that?

nonetheless, you tried your best, and now the party was over, the other three marauders black out drunk in sirius' room from spiked eggnogg mr. fleamont pretended not to see them drink and you on james' bed waiting for him to come back after helping them out.

his smile brightened up the whole room, even though the lights were on and the warmth in his eyes made you forget about any worries that surrounded your mind while he was gone. you stretched your arms to pull him in a hug after he closed the door, though he ignored completely, simply laying on top of you with all of his weight, forcing you to lay down as well. "honeyyyy, i'm so tired." he whined, his cheek touching yours as he spoke.

one of your hands went to his arm, while the other played with his hair, he was such a baby when he wanted to, but you were lovesick, dangerously lovesick, so it was endearing to you. "no gifts today, then?" that made him get up in a jump, excitement filling him with the energy he had lost to sleepiness.

"nooooo, not what i meant." he pouted, batting his beautiful eyelashes at you, you laughed, knowing that would be the reaction, he had been extremely curious by your present from the time you showed up engulfed in green flames inside his family's fireplace, a big heavy something, perfectly wrapped, to jamie written in your handwriting in a heart shaped note that he knew he would keep safe inside his wallet to the rest of his days.

you got the gift from his nightstand and handed it to him, the anxiety coming back again as you started overexplaining yourself to him, "wanted to make something special, but you have so much stuff i... didn't know what... so i asked your mum to help me with this. i know it's like, nothing super unique but... i don't know." you fumbled completely over your words and he looked so deep into your eyes you knew he was able to read your whole entire soul without even trying at all.

"even a rock you find on a road and decides it reminds you of me would be special." everything you do, everything you touch is special, is what he actually wants to say, but he refrains from it, carefully taking out the tape holding the wrapping paper together, refusing to rip it apart. his eyes sparkled when he saw the leather cover, his name golden along with his gryffindor quidditch number.

he opens it, not sure what would be inside, the first page had your handwriting again, written in red and filled with doodle hearts: my quidditch lover boy, know that wherever you play, i will always be your biggest cheerleader.

the rest was pictures, from the first one his mum took of him with a broom when he was still barely a person, his little arms holding tight to his dad. the first time he flew alone to show them. the letter he sent when he made the gryffindor team, his first captain's armband, tickets from matches he went with his father. the last picture was from his last victory, you both kissing with the biggest smiles while sirius covered you both with red paint.

it was a good thing he never pretended to be one of those emotionless guys, because his nose was red, his eyes watering as you heard him sniffing. "this... honey, this is the most beautiful thing." his fingers passed over the picture, with such care it seemed he was afraid to ruin it, he pulled you into a hug and then lifted your chin to face him, his lips touching yours like you were a treasure he needed to protect. you felt the saltiness of his tears and you couldn't help but laugh, it was just too adorable.

james let go of you, but not before kissing your whole face. he found a spot on his desk for your present, where it would be the first thing anyone spotted when looking around his room, and then took a small box and a piece of parchment from the first drawer of his nightstand. "m'feeling a tad inadequate now, mine isn't as thoughtful but... ms. euphemia did help me with it too." you laughed at the way he talked of his mum, "i wanted to give you some sort of jewelry, but everything i chose was simply grim, james darling." he gestured air quotes while trying to get his mother's tone across.

he handed you the velvet box, parchment still in hand as he waited for you to open, you were still stunned by the information he wanted to give you jewelry, you felt like your heart and your stomach were dancing and twirling around inside of you as how official that sounded. opening the box you find a beautiful, seemingly antique, silver ring, it had a red gem on top in the form of a triangle. you were completely speechless as you touched it lightly.

"m'dad proposed with that ring." your eyes widened at that, positive you were gonna pass out at any moment. "it's very old, and it's been in our family for generations, if you look closely you can see a symbol, the triangle one is for my invisibility cloak."

"james, this is beautiful, but... i can't accept this, it's a family heirloom i... it belongs to your family." you couldn't even look at him, you were out of breath, out of words, out of ways to react.

"yeah, that's sorta it. you're part of my family now." he takes the ring out of the box and slides it on your right index finger, so not to pressure you, so you knew it was a present, a promise of commitment, but not an obligation or a way to imprison you to him. "and my mum kept this for years, i had no idea, she says it's adorable, so..." james hands you the parchment finally, and you open it to see the date on top, stating it was a letter from two years before.

a letter he sent to his mum, from hogwarts, talking about you.

he went on and on talking about sometimes he felt like his heart was gonna jump out of his chest when you were around and that wasn't normal, that didn't happen before. and how he could smell your perfume before even seeing you had got into the room.

he was fifteen and down bad for his best friend and was so confused he asked his mum for advice. it was indeed the most adorable thing. and euphemia was so sure something would come out of it she kept the letter. you had to put it down on his bed so you wouldn't wet it with your tears. "you're such a sap oh my god." you said in a mocking tone even though you were the one crying like an absolute baby.

"enjoy it now, next year you're getting a simply grim necklace and a honeydukes discount coupon." james replied matter-of-factly, but his grin and his eyes showed how glad he was that you had enjoyed the gifts that much, "i love you too much, you're gonna wake up one day and m'gonna have inflated and exploded by how much." you couldn't even reply to that with anything other than a loud laugh, your hands quickly going over your mouth when you remembered how late it was.

you felt his weight over you again, but this time before he could be completely over you using you as a mattress, he slides beside you, pulling you closer to him, and closing his eyes. "merry christmas, lover boy." is the last thing you say before falling asleep in his embrace.

#lari writes xmas #lari writes sometimes #marauders x reader #james x reader #james x you #james x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter scenario

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povlnfour · 7 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART 4

series masterlist | prev part | next part

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

texts cont. ੈ✩‧₊˚

lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by daniel.jpg and 58,291 others

lando.jpg met the horse and treated the olympian (!) to dinner

👤 tagged yourusername

view all 1,006 comments

user3 OMGGGGG THEY’RE FRIENDS AGAIN

user1 y’all had me WORRIED for a second there

daniel.jpg much prefer her face to yours

lando.jpg we all do

user9 🙄🙄🙄

yourusername omg i made it to the jpg account

lilymhe text me NOW

texts with lily ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 200,876 others

yourusername august slipped away

👤 tagged lando norris, flo_norris_showjumping, and 3 others

view all 19,447 comments

user6 DID THE FAMILY DINNER HAPPEN????

user1 y/n hanging out with landos family🫣🫣🫣 oh they’re in LOVE

flo_norris_showjumping i LOVED seeing you again🥹 even if my brother hogged you for most of the night

user3 NOT FLO EXPOSING LANDO????

yourusername you’re still my number 1🩷🩷🩷

carlossainz55 please tell me lando wasn’t allowed in the kitchen?

yourusername oh god no, his job was set the table

user2 so glad i don’t have to fist fight lando anymore

landonorris i’m sorry WHAT

landonorris babe protect me from your fans

user3 BABE?????

user1 HELAKFIDJS BABE?

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 243,077 others

landonorris one of us is a passenger princess. guess which one

view all 12,004 comments

user4 SHE CANT DRIVE FREE HER

user5 i am so used to them being gross and in love on my home page but i still gasped

yourusername not my fault i cant drIVE

landonorris sweetheart that kind of is YOUR fault

user3 i cant with these nicknames omg

danielricciardo mate tbf it’s usually you

user13 was she doing her makeup in the car bc mood😭

landonorris she was and i’m still finding glitter everywhere days later

lily’s story, texts w lily, twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 101,572 others

mclaren your move, @/williamsracing🧡

👤 tagged yourusername

view all 4,077 comments

user5 AHAHAHAH ADMIN VS ADMIN IS BACK

user7 who y’all backing? williams could fight i reckon👀👀👀

alex_albon @/yourusername we need to TALK.

landonorris uh oh dads angry

alex_albon @/landonorris lazy town looking ass

williamsracing oh it’s on👀 we heard she prefers our catering anyway!

scuderiaferrari if she’s here for catering, she’s in the wrong place!

user1 the girls are fighting!

yourusername williams mclaren look at me this isn’t you

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by mclaren, alex_albon and 239,556

landonorris tough stint lately but got some nice incentive today. podium incoming?

view all 19,506 comments

user9 she’s been in every single one of his posts lately. it’s concerning

user7 he’s not gonna fuck you

user3 INCENTIVE? WHATS THE INCENTIVE?

yourusername 🤭 good luck for singapore

liked by landonorris

user5 WHAT ARE THEY PLOTTING

taglist: @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff

a/n: 👀 i am having sm fun writing this. v excited to write the next part👀

taglist found here!!!

- giselle xx

#🐴 paddock to paddock #f1 x reader #f1 #lando norris x reader #mclaren #lando norris #lando norris smau #lando norris blurb #lando norris scenario #lando norris au #lando norris imagine

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magicalbats · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 18: Spanking

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7590

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, over the knee spanking (my favorite cmdmdmd), paddling with a hairbrush

A/N: I really hope this one isn't too messy, I haven't been feeling super great and I am posting this at *checks clock* 4:26 in the morning skdnfksnf so please be gentle with me! 🙈

⭐

The Duke of Meropide was a truly infuriating scoundrel!

You’d been arguing with him in his office for almost an hour now and it felt like all you’d done is go around in endless circles. One moment he would in all seriousness shoot down a suggestion or a point you’ve made, and the next he would abruptly ask you about tea or cookies with equal sincerity. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and you were quickly reaching the end of your patience with him. Had the topic of reform and rehabilitation of ex inmates not been so very important to you, you’re sure you would have stormed out of his office a long time ago.

“For the final time, my lord, I care for neither your white tea nor your black tea.” You intone as mildly as you can manage given the state of your nerves. “Please, just listen to me for a moment. That is all I ask.”

Perfectly casual, Wriothesley reclines back into his tall chair and brings his hands together over the bend of a propped up knee. “I have been listening. Quite attentively too. However, I just don’t see how your proposal is going to work and I think you might be barking up the wrong tree, miss. My apologies for saying so.”

“No offense taken.” You clench your jaw so tight it hurts. “But why do you think it isn’t going to work? Have I not explained the steps to successful rehabilitation enough for your liking?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly thorough. Excessive, even.”

Spine snapping straight at that, you pin him with a furious look you don’t even try to conceal but he just waves it off without missing a beat.

“The problem is, I don’t think you understand how the Fortress of Meropide functions. It is you who hasn’t been listening to me, I’m afraid.” He continues on, as stony and impassive as ever. “As I already said, the inmates are free to leave once their sentences are served in full. It’s just that the vast majority of them do not wish to return to the surface world and choose to stay here of their own volition. There’s nothing I nor you can do to change that.”

“But — but that’s because there weren’t any systems in place to help them!” You stammer, desperately rifling through your stacks of paperwork and statistics in search of the findings collected on job and housing placement welfare. Finally locating it with a triumphant puff of air, you jump to your feet and shove it at him over the desk even when he tries to once again wave it off. “The proof is right here, your grace. It should take only a moment of your time to read and understand the data presented in this report for someone as no doubt well informed as you are.”

Stilling, Wriothesley steadily meets your look of challenge with a cool stare of his own. A beat passes and then, heaving a rather terse sigh, he reaches out to reluctantly accept the sheet from you. “I’ll look at it but I’m telling you, miss. These graphs and numbers don’t mean anything in the real world.”

“We’ll see about that.” You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, impertinently standing over him while he reads even when you know you’re really pushing your luck here. He was a duke, a by all accounts certificate wielding lord in the flesh and blood, and you, a lowly commoner, had no right to try and force his hand like this. Still, you hold your ground though, confident that you knew what you were talking about when you had the data to back it up. It was he who didn’t understand how the real world worked after spending so much time underneath the ocean in this rust bucket of bolts he called a fortress.

His eyes steadily move over the page, taking in everything at an agreeable enough pace to placate you into silence, and Wriothesley eventually gives his head a curt nod when he reaches the bottom. “I see. It’s just as I thought.”

You have but the blink of an eye to feel the first dawnings of hope start to crest over your heart and then, unceremonious as can be, he reaches over to neatly deposit the paper into the trash bin.

“It’s garbage.”

“Wh - wait just a minute - what do you mean it’s garbage?” You stammer, spit and sputter in white-hot affront so potent you start to feel your cheeks becoming warm. It takes every single ounce of self control you possess not to round on the desk and throttle the life right out of him! “If you didn’t understand the information all you had to do was ask, your grace and I would have gladly taken the time to - -“

“I understood it perfectly, miss, and I am once again telling you that it is your understanding of the situation that is inherently flawed, not mine. You simply can’t make the prisoners do something they don’t want. I trust that you do understand that much, at least?”

“It is not a matter of making them!” You seethe, hands clenching into tight fists at your sides. “It’s giving them a viable option between spending the rest of their lives trapped under the sea or being able to rejoin their friends and family on the surface. I expected you to have at least a little bit of sympathy for the people under your care!”

Heaving another soft sigh, Wriothesley unfolds his legs and sits forward to brace his elbows on the desk in the most impolite slouch you’ve ever seen from someone who was supposedly a part of the aristocracy. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I think I care about them a shade more than you do. We’re talking about people who have made a new place for themselves down here and it would be remiss of me to start kicking them out just so you can get your brownie points. This is their home.”

You jerk as if he’d physically struck you. “Now you listen here - -“

“No. I have listened to you enough for one afternoon, miss.” He cuts across you like the crack of a whip without either raising his voice nor sharpening his tone, but the low rumble in it is still enough to stop you in your tracks.

Eyes widening slightly, you watch him stand from his chair and sedately step around the desk to come loom over you with his imposingly massive frame that leaves you pitifully craning your neck back when he stops in front of you.

“It’s time for you to listen to me now. I’m sure you had good intentions in coming here with this little scheme you cooked up but I’m telling you it isn’t going to work. The inmates who choose to stay here like the simplicity of life in Meropide and the stability it provides them. So long as they work hard and stay out of trouble they’ll have no problems earning a living for themselves but can the same be said about the overworld? What’s going to happen when they get fired from the jobs you place them in after running late one too many times? Or what about when they fall asleep during their shift from exhaustion? Do you know what happens when either of those things occur down here? They simply don’t get their regular number of coupons for the day but they can always come back and do better the next. Will they have that same security up on the surface?”

“T - that’s why rehabilitation is so important.” You rush to say. “We can teach them to reintegrate into society so that they won’t have to worry about things like that - -“

“Everyone worries about things like that, little miss. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

Your eyes flash at him dangerously. “Do not call me that! In fact, I believe I’ve had quite enough of you at this point! I want to speak to someone else! Preferably a person with something more substantial than rocks for brains!”

Wriothesley scowls at that, narrowing his own eyes back at you in warning. “You can want it all you like but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get it. I’m the only person you need to speak to right now … and I would suggest you reconsider how you’re speaking to me.”

“Hah! Or what?” Riding high on adrenaline and jittery nerves, you impulsively reach out to jab a finger at the center of his big, beefy chest. “You can’t throw me into a cell just because you don’t like the tone of my voice! Is that the kind of operation you're running down here? Maybe when I get back up to the surface I should contact The Steambird about the tyrannical power trip his grace is on!”

He snorts a brief laugh as if the very notion was a ludicrous one, though you couldn’t tell if it was your assertion or the thought that you might go to the papers that he found humorous. “That’s funny, but I don’t need to throw you in prison just to put you in your place, miss. I’m giving you one final warning to knock it off and calm down.”

You take an aggressive step closer to him, head tilted all the way back now so you could see his face past the bulky mass across his pectorals. “Enlighten me then, my lord. What are you going to do to me if I don’t bend the knee?”

“I think I might start by taking you over my knee first.”

Giving a startled jerk, you go stock still and just stare at him for the span of a single heartbeat. The ice suddenly gripping your veins is instantly replaced by a hot, raging inferno that seems to make your blood boil and, seeing red, you viciously bring your heel down on the top of his boot, grinding it in for good measure. “I’d like to see you try it, you ba - -“

His hand shoots up and, much to your squawking surprise, he grabs around the meat of your upper arm to tug you into him, making you stumble and half fall against the bend of his elbow. Before you even have a chance to draw a full breath to berate him with his other hand cracks across the meat of your ass with a deafening whap! The sharp pain is immediate and splintering, rocking you against him with the abrupt impact as your mouth warbles open in equal parts hurt and shock. He gives your arm a tight yank to keep you pressed in against his side when you try to scuttle away, nudging you insistently until you realize you have no choice but to look up at him except … except you’re not sure if you do so with impotent rage darkening your face or if it’s a tearfully remorseful expression he sees looking back at him.

Perhaps it was a frustrating combination of the two?

Wriothesley regards you in contemplative silence for a long moment, his own facial expression not giving much of anything away while the blinding sting across your backside gradually settles into a constant burning throb, but you don’t know what else to do other than stand there and wait for him to say something. You couldn’t believe he’d struck you like that — like a child! You’d only just met the duke today so for him to be putting his hands on you like that was beyond ridiculous, and completely inappropriate. But for as mad as you were, even for as much as your body trembles with frantic, clawing anger, you didn’t quite trust yourself to speak just yet … he would hear about it soon enough. In great detail and at even greater length, once you’d recovered enough to not need to worry your voice would crack and waver over your words. Very soon indeed.

“I told you what was going to happen,” He says at last, perfectly calm and even toned as ever considering he’d just hit you. “Didn’t I, little miss?”

Glaring daggers at him, you give your body a furious wrench against his hold but he keeps you in place easily enough. His hand was just so big it seemed to nearly encompass the total width of your bicep, allotting him the perfect hold on you that would only cause pain and discomfort if you were to truly struggle which left you with very little in the way of options. Grudgingly, you go still again and petulantly turn your head so you wouldn’t have to look at him any longer. You needed to focus on calming yourself before anything else. Acting rash now was only going to get you hurt.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” You finally manage to hiss. “But you've got a lot of nerve to put your hands on me like this.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” He volleys right back, not missing a beat, and you irritably twitch when you realize he’s thrown your own words back at you. He’d be in for a rude awakening soon enough, if you had any say in the matter.

“Enjoy your fun while you can, your grace. I was only bluffing earlier but now I think I really will go to The Steambird and tell them everything that’s transpired here today! What do you think about that, hm?” Impulsively, you whip your head back around to pin him with a biting look of challenge, but he just lifts his brows up at you as if in surprise.

“I think you are indeed a mouthy little brat in need of a good spanking to correct that attitude of yours. What are you going to do at The Steambird then? Take your pants down to show them your red bottom and let them take pictures for the morning paper?” Clicking his tongue, Wriothesley shakes his head as if in disappointment. “You’re not thinking this through all the way, but I suspect that’s a problem you regularly struggle with. Come, let’s get you sorted out.”

You suck in a horrified, raking breath when he shifts as if to move back towards his chair and quickly dig your heels into the ground to stop it. “W - wait! You can’t do this!” You wail, and a foolish pitter patter of hope skips across your chest when he actually pauses to look at you again. Maybe you could still talk your way out of this. It might cost you some of your pride, but that seemed a reasonable sacrifice given the situation. “Ah, what I meant to say is … I’m sorry?”

A sudden, clipped bark of laughter bursts out of him. “No you’re not.”

“I am, really! I’m very sorry for, um, stepping on your boot like that. I’ll have it cleaned and polished if you’d like. Just please let me go. Please?”

“I don’t think so.”

Wriothesley starts to pull you into motion again and you reel back against his hold even when it makes his thick, blocky fingers sink into the meat of your arm. “Wait! I promise I’m sorry, I really, really am! I didn’t mean it! I swear!”

Breathing out a patient sigh through his nose, he gently (surprisingly so) tugs you around to stand in front of him even when you stumble and drag your feet in a blithe attempt to avoid compliance. “You’re only sorry right now because you’re in trouble. I’m going to give you something to think about and a chance to reflect on your actions, and then you’ll really be sorry. Is that clear enough for you, miss?”

“You can’t do this …”

“Oh, but I can. Take a look around you and tell me where you’re standing. This is my fortress which means I get to make the rules here. If I decide bratty girls who like to run their mouths even after being told to calm down — repeatedly, might I add — need a spanking to get them in order then that is exactly what’s going to happen. And do let me remind you that I gave you plenty of chances to heed my warnings but you didn’t. You can thank your own attitude for getting you into this predicament.”

You try very hard to keep your expression in check but you’re pretty sure you fail rather miserably at it, and a flash of that vulnerable fear still manages to creep into your face. “I am not a child!” You insist, shuddering violently. “You can’t treat me like one! That’s not fair!”

“Oh, I’d say what’s not fair is barging in here like you own the place and not listening to a word I say. You’ve certainly acted like a child so I think I’m perfectly in my right to treat you like one now.”

Not giving you a chance to think of something else to say and further stall, Wriothesley suddenly swoops down and curls his arm around your thighs so he can yank you right up off your feet. You choke in surprise as much as at the sudden rush of movement, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it when he straightens up with you clutched across his front. Stinging hot tears flood your eyes all at once and you seethe, kicking and flailing, as he effortlessly carries you back around to the desk. It’s like you barely weigh anything in his arms which neither shudder or strain to hold you no matter how wildly you try to fight him. Even when he takes his seat again he still manages to much too easily manhandle you into place across his lap like you weren’t even struggling with every single ounce of strength you possessed.

In shockingly quick order you find yourself spread across his legs, on your tummy, but still you hiss and twist until his hand abruptly strikes across your upturned ass again. You jump so hard you nearly collapse right then and there but the thick, burly arm now curled over your trembling body keeps you firmly in place when you lurch. Wheezing frantically, you try to push yourself upright but it’s no use, and his palm swats you over your pants again, rapidly draining you of the energy to keep up the effort any longer when it hurt so bad it seemed to rob you of the ability to even think straight. Mewling at the deep hurt, you jerk forward at the next strike and let out a pitiful, broken little sob.

“I warned you to stop.” He reminds you again, falling into an easy steady rhythm. Whap, whap, whap, whap. One cheek and then the next, each hit somehow worse than the last as the burning sting grows and spreads across your defenseless backside. Even your desperate squirming was not enough to dissuade him from finding his mark as he peppers your sit spots in quick, agonizing succession. “I gave you so many chances too, but you just wouldn’t listen. Why is that, huh? Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners?”

“Please stop — oww! T - that hurts, you damn brute — oww!”

“Keep it up and I’m just going to keep adding more. When you can’t sit right for the next week you’ll think back on this, I promise you that.”

Clenching your teeth, you fiercely try to keep the tears at bay so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you cry but the intense, constant crack of his hand on your ass soon wins out and they start to track wet lines down your burning face. You sniffle sadly and weakly kick your legs out behind you, making an attempt to curl them up and shield your already sore behind, but he just roughly tugs you further across his lap. Abruptly finding yourself slipping forward to half dangle over the side of the chair, you gasp and mindlessly stiffen up across his lap to stop your balance from tipping. That quickly proves to be a mistake though when the tense way you’re now holding your body just seems to make it hurt even worse, and you plaintively shake your head with a wordless shriek.

“Please stop it, your — ah! Your grace! I’m begging, I can’t — oww!”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you kept acting up.”

Whap, whap, whap, whap

“Ow, ow, owowow, ow! You’re … you’re doing it too hard! Stop it!”

Wriothesley chuckles somewhere far above you, the low timber of his voice blanketing over your muddied senses to make you shiver. “Actually, I don’t think I’m going hard enough yet. Not for the way you were behaving. Not to worry though, all in due time. This is just the warm up, after all.”

You go stock still across his legs, your heart skipping a long, harrowing beat. A warm up - -

“Yeow! Sto - ah - ahhhp! Please!”

Whap, whap, whap, whap

Hanging your head low, you openly sob and kick at the air now, clutching his thick boot with one hand while the other hangs onto the chair leg in a death grip to somewhat steady yourself. The sharp stabs of pain seem to chip away at your consciousness bit by bit, each slap of his massive hand taking with it a little piece of you each time it recedes. You’re so dazed by the constant onslaught that you almost don’t notice when he abruptly pauses and grabs under your arms.

Then you’re suddenly being hauled up and forced to stand on legs that immediately threaten to give out under you but Wriothesley just guides you around to stand between his legs. Furiously trying to wipe the evidence of tears from your face with a sleeve, you blearily watch as he brings his hands up to unbutton the front of your pants which he unceremoniously tugs down your legs to leave them bunched around your ankles. You can’t help but gasp, your cheeks burning even hotter at having your panties suddenly exposed to him, but you don’t get the chance to so much as suck in a shuddering breath let alone actually voice your protests.

Just like that, he’s dragging you back down over his lap and you twist against his hold with renewed fervor, clawing viciously at any part of him you can reach. His palm mercilessly swatting you across the back of your underwear freezes you in place though, and you let out a high pitched, keening sound at this new level of hell he’s introduced you to. It’s so much worse without your slacks in the way and just the thin layer of cotton to protect you from the full brunt of his punishing slaps. You’re so caught up in trying to process the extent of it when he shifts over top of you that you don’t even think to shriek at him to stop — but then his unoccupied hand fists the material of your panties and yanks them up to pull firm against your screaming backside. You outright squawk and choke at the sensation only to realize what he’s doing a split second later when he swats your ass again and the hurt suddenly feels like it’s skin to skin.

Howling in distress, you jerk and writhe against his legs but Wriothesley’s hold on your underwear effectively stops you from crawling away. You simply can’t escape it and the space between your ears is soon once again filled with the sharp swat! of his hand lighting you up. It was easily the worst thing you’d ever experienced, even putting aside the inherent humiliation of being spanked over his knee with your pants around your ankles.

“Waaa - aahhaaaaaa! Your grace, I - I’m sorry … owwww!”

“Are you now?” He murmurs, punctuating the soft tone of his voice with two blistering slaps, one to each cheek to leave you withering in his hold. “And what are you sorry for, little miss? Come on, speak up.”

That was incredibly difficult to do when he wasn’t letting up on your ass for even a moment but, hoping against hope that placating him might make this end quicker, you suck in a haggard, gasping breath to steady yourself. “I’m sorry for - eek! I’m sorry for all the rude things I said to you earlier! Oww! I - I shouldn’t have come in here and - ahh! Ahh! I shouldn’t have disrespected you in your fortress, your grace! I promise I’m sorry!”

“And what else?”

What else? What else even was there!

You desperately try to think, to figure it out, but your head is swimming so fast you start to think you might pass out. Loosing a broken moan, you agonizingly kick back and try to find purchase on the floor, only succeeding in half sliding off his knee. He easily readjusts his hold and rather meanly pulls harder on your panties though, making you squeal when they dig into your cunt and it essentially forces you to straighten your legs instead of slouching away from the continuous barrage of his hand. You choke on some kind of mindless animal sound and try to shove yourself forward in your desperation but he just spanks you even harder for the trouble.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know!” You cry out, dancing on the tips of your toes as if that would somehow alleviate some of the deep, throbbing ache encompassing your rear end. “I don’t know your grace, I don’t know but I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You just barely manage to catch the sound of him clicking his tongue over your wailing. “How can you be sorry for something if you don’t even know what it is? You’re really not taking this seriously, are you?”

“I am!”

He stops so abruptly you lurch, gasping, as if he’d followed through on delivering the next blow. Shuddering uncontrollably, you warily twist to look over your shoulder with big, wet eyes to watch him fold your panties down over your ass to join your slacks around your ankles. Realizing what he’s doing your fight or flight instincts seem to kick in like never before, and you hysterically wrench against his hold. To your stumbling surprise you actually manage to slip free for a split second, for the span of but a single heartbeat, and then he’s reaching up before you can get your trembling legs to cooperate and he roughly tucks you down across his thigh again. This time with that heavy, corded steel arm locked around your waist.

“Wait, wait, wait - -“

Smack!

Your ass promptly erupts in splinters, every single nerve ending in your behind vibrating numbly at the impact. It punches the air right out of your lungs, leaves you gasping for even a sliver of air, but he doesn’t give you a chance to fully process the hurt. Smack, smack, smack, smack! The crack of his hand across your bare skin sounds deafening now and you shake uncontrollably as you cry out in unrestrained agony. Back and forth between each burning red, swollen cheek, he pays equal attention to both sides until it feels like the tingling flesh is quite literally on fire. You writhe against the blinding hurt and sob so hard the shudders wrack through you from head to toe even as you weakly try to push up and squeeze through his arm. It’s no use though. Wriothesley’s hold is as good as iron and all you can do is wrench at each blistering crack without any way to escape it.

“Well?” He expectantly prompts, but you’re a little too far gone in the swimming daze to properly respond now, just noising a series of incomprehensible whines and mewls with every strike. Quickly picking up that you were slipping under now, he breathes out a stilted sigh. “If there is but one thing you take away from this,” He intones, still bringing his palm down again and again, and again. “Let it be to pick your opponents more wisely in the future. You don’t just get to walk in here and start calling the shots, do you understand me?”

You croak out something that might be a yes, incomprehensibly slurred between all the tears and snot running down your face, and the sad little hiccups making your throat constrict. That seems to be good enough for him though, and he just presses on.

“I was nice enough to invite you to come to Meropide,” smack, smack, smack, smack “Even though I could have turned you down right from the start. I already knew your little pet project wasn’t going to pan out,” smack, smack, smack, smack “But I figured I’d at least hear you out first and this is how you decided to repay me? Despite what you probably think, I don’t like having to punish people,” smack, smack, smack, smack “But I’m not about to let some upstart little brat come in here and try to tell me what my inmates need. You don’t know the first thing about this place no matter what all your worthless charts tell you.”

Smack, smack, smack! Smack!

You flinch, weakly rocking forward when the next slap never comes. Groaning thickly, you squirm and dance on your feet, trying to shake off some of the discomfort even though it’s useless, but still he just sits there. You’re distantly aware of him breathing a bit heavier than before, either worked up from the act itself or the physical exertion of delivering a sound spanking, and you just whine low in your throat at the resounding throb throughout your body. It seems to claw through you and set every single nerve to trembling vibration, leaving you quaking violently in his hold.

Finally, what feels like an eternity later, Wriothesley draws a steadying inhale. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Y - yes …” You croak out with no shortage of effort, but his blocky fingers just dig into your hip to give you a brief jostle

“Wanna’ try that again?”

Your already strained heartbeat somehow manages to become even more wild at the panic that rushes in to smother over you. What did he want? Would he spank you again if you didn’t figure out the answer?

“Yes, sir?”

“That’s better.” He relents, giving your shuddering thigh an amicable pat. Silence descends over the office for a drawn out beat and then he suddenly leans forward, half dragging you with him while he opens one of the drawers on the desk to rummage around. “I don’t think you’re really sorry, not yet. But you will be soon. I know I have that damn hairbrush Sigewinne gave me somewhere.”

A hairbrush?

Your blood turns to ice at the implication, and the fresh wave of fear that abruptly grips you in a chokehold seems to clear some of the fog from your head. You could think just a little bit clearer now and you did not like where your thoughts were going, not one bit. Surely he wouldn’t actually take it that far after already abusing your ass so much with his hand.

“Your g - grace?”

Ignoring or just not hearing the weak little mouse squeak, Wriothesley settles back into his chair again, grabbing a pinching handful of your inner thigh to drag it over his knee once more. He doesn’t quite force your body across his lap but he does make sure you’re stretched out in a rather inelegant sprawl that leaves your legs embarrassingly spread and you start to shake in earnest now. You hadn’t thought it was possible for the human body to vibrate at such a high frequency but that's exactly what seems to be happening as the crushing reality of the situation gradually settles over you like a shroud.

And then, the press of something solid and flat touches your burning ass, and you practically jolt right up off his legs altogether.

Your skin crawls with it making you feel truly sick and nauseous even as you frantically try to twist your neck around to see. He’s got you at such an awkward angle though that you can’t make out much of anything and your panic rapidly starts to ratchet up into damn near a full on attack until he gently taps the object against your behind to pull your attention back into the moment.

“I’m going to give you twenty spanks with this brush, little miss. I want you to count them, and don’t forget to show me some respect while you do it.”

“I - I - I can’t, sir, I can’t, I can’t take anymore, p - please, it’s too much - -“

“Hush. I’ve got you,” He coos, unexpectedly gentle and soft, but it doesn’t do much to ease your heaving gasps or the erratic pounding of your heart. Still, you find yourself grudgingly getting pulled into that tender croon and you make a conscious effort to calm down even as you sway unsteadily over his thigh. “You’re alright. You’ll just get yourself all worked up over nothing acting like that. Deep breaths. That’s it. Now take another for me. Good girl. See? You can listen when you want to. It’s not so bad, is it?”

He offers the pudge around your hip a reassuring, possibly even approving squeeze when your breathing starts to slow to a normal, wheezing pant rather than the thin lungfulls you’d been sucking in just moments ago. You decidedly disliked him a great deal, perhaps more so than you’d ever disliked any one single person in all your life, but you were at least glad he was able to keep you grounded. Never mind the fact he was the cause of it to begin with, you were just thankful it didn’t feel like you were going throw up and pass out anymore.

And still the throbbing burn across your ass keeps pulling tiny little whimpers from your dry throat. It really was too much.

“Is it necessary?” You finally manage to rattle out.

“The brush? In my eyes it is, yes. This will show me whether or not you’ve been paying attention this whole time, if you can be respectful towards me throughout this last leg even though you’ll probably want to curse me to high heaven and back. If you can tell me you’re really sorry when we’re done then it will be over. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

Groaning in defeat, you hang your head low and just take a moment to think. Your options were regretfully limited but … you wanted to trust him at his word and, more importantly, you just wanted to have it done and over with already. The pain crawling across your backside was immeasurable, gradually receding to a dull, distant, but no less teeth clattering ache that reminded you it was there with every thrumming pulse, and he was right to say you wanted to curse him for it. You would have given anything to do just that but Wriothesley had made it clear what he expected of you. Obedience, compliance, respect.

Perhaps you should have expected no less from the reclusive Duke of Meropide but you certainly would not be making this mistake again.

“Yes, sir.” You whisper into the stillness at last, a sort of numb surprise curling over you at the lack of bite in your own voice. You’d expected to hear bitter tears, anger, defensive pride, not … such a soft, almost shaky little note of submission.

The very idea that his unjust treatment of you had somehow accomplished exactly what it was meant to chills you almost as much as it brings you a strange sense of comfort which he only further enforces by warmly caressing his unoccupied palm over the curve of your bare waist.

“Good. Then let’s get started.”

An expectant pause and then — whap!

You violently lurch, dizzy and disoriented from the sudden intensity of the impact. It was so different from his hand, so hard and unforgiving that it made your stomach feel like it was about to burst right up out of your throat. Reeling and weakly gasping in the aftermath, you futilely arch against the sting, kicking your legs out, but there’s no escaping it or shaking it off. The pain seems to engulf you all at once, making you choke on a haggard, gutted little sound. Like you couldn’t even scream around it and only whimper in breathless, mind numbing agony.

“O - one, sir.” You finally manage to rattle out to his humming satisfaction.

Whap! On the other sore cheek.

“Oh! Oh, oh, oooohhhh, n - nnghhnhn!! Two, sir …”

Whap! Back to the first. Whap! The second again.

You can’t quite formulate the words now, just laying there spread out on Wriothesley’s lap while your legs uncontrollably shake and you suck in quick, faltering thin gasps of air in an attempt to reorient yourself. It was like the sharp, oppressively heavy stroke of the wooden brush was knocking your brain around and making it hard just to remember how to breathe. Sniffling back a rush of fresh tears, however, you force your mind to stay focused in the here and now rather than drifting off to some faraway place where you currently weren’t getting your ass beat. And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Why he was making you count like this, to keep you firmly planted and present to ensure your attention didn’t start to slip at the first chance and you remained attentive for this final part of your trial. The sadistic bastard.

“Four, sir …”

Whap! Whap!

“O - oooh, gods … s - six, sir.”

Whap! Whap!

You have to take a moment to collect yourself, to breathe through the sickening pain that encompasses your backside, and he waits patiently until you eventually lift your head again. “Eight, sir.”

Whap!

“Eeekk! Ahh, ah … nine — ahhn, sir!”

Dazed and more than just a little lost in the hazy delirium swimming around your head, you slowly start to find and grasp at a tiny fraction of your inner strength. Your voice comes quicker, albeit thinner, as you hold your breath tightly over the course of the next few swats of the brush, finally seeing an end in sight just over the horizon. A few more and then you would be done. You could leave this place and never see the duke again for as long as you lived.

“Fifteen, sir!” You hear yourself blurt out, nearly sobbing in relief only to choke on it when the next swing cracks down on the opposite cheek a second later. Seething viciously, you shake for a moment before gritting out the next number. And the next.

You’re practically hysterical when you finally get to nineteen, all but blubbering across his lap, but you take the last strike like a champ, squealing a cursory, “Twenty, sir!” And then immediately giving in to the urge to dance on your toes, trying in vain to chase away some of the skin crawling ache by moving around. He leans back into the chair, just giving you a moment to process it on your own terms, before eventually loosening his arm around your middle so he can help you up. You move gingerly and wheeze through the process of getting your jelly filled legs underneath you but, at last, you find yourself standing between the wide spread of his knees and you cautiously reach back to rub your sore bottom.

You regret it immediately, hissing at the intense heat coming off the abused skin as much as the stabs of pain just brushing your fingertips against the tender area causes. But before you can truly process the full brunt of it, he takes your wrist in hand and tugs it away from your behind so he can hold it between the two of you instead.

“You’re welcome to try but it isn’t going to do much to take away any of the pain. You’ll have that reminder in the back of your mind for the next few days, any time you sit or your clothes rub against it.” A pause while he studies you with that frustratingly impassive expression, taking in your wet face, the clumps of your eyelashes where they’re sticking together, the distant look in your eyes. He takes it all in and then offers you a small, brief smile. “Are you sorry now?”

You almost choose petulant silence but, not wanting to tempt fate any further, you slowly nod your head. “Yes, sir. I’m very sorry for how I acted towards you today, and for not listening when you told me to stop. I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl.” Giving your fingers a quick squeeze, he reaches down to take hold of your hips in both of his massive hands and carefully guide you back a step so he can rise to his feet as well. “Alright, go stand in the corner. Face the wall and keep your cute bottom uncovered.”

Immediately planting your feet into the floor when he tries to nudge you in the general direction of the wall, you send him a flustered look of warning. “You said that would be the end of it.”

“It was, and you did so well for someone whom I suspect hasn’t been spanked nearly enough in her lifetime. But,” Wriothesley quickly holds up a hand to stop you when you draw a sharp, scathing breath to snap at him with. “It’s usually customary to give you a chance to further reflect on your punishment while the sting settles the rest of the way in. Besides, I need to run down to the infirmary to get a cream for your butt and you can’t very well sit down right now, can you?”

“You are infuriating!” You practically spit at him, fists clenching with the urge to reach out and punch him square in the solar plexus. “What exactly do you think this is, your grace? A fun little afternoon we’ve shared together over tea and gossip? I don’t want your stupid cream! I want to leave this place and never be forced to look upon you ever again, do you hear me?”

“Oh, I hear you loud and clear.” Wriothesley murmurs with an accompanying quirk of his brow to go along with it. “Gotta’ say though, I wasn’t expecting you to bounce right back to your earlier attitude so fast. Usually brats like you need a bit more time to recoup some of their charge after getting it all out of their system like that.”

You reel back in abject shock. “Brats like me? You have some nerve acting like I’m the problem when you just - -“

He reaches up quicker than you can react and abruptly pulls you into the front of him, one hand lifting to cradle your head against the firm, muscular wall of his body while the other curls around your back so you can’t escape. Your skin positively crawls at the contact, lips pulling back in a vicious snarl, but then … he just gently rocks you back and forth, softly petting your hair while he does it, and you go stock still in your surprise. You didn’t understand it. What he was doing or why he was doing it, and you understood even less why it almost made you feel a bit — funny inside. Tingly, almost.

“There, there,” Wriothesley murmurs, just holding you tightly enough to prevent escape but still soft enough not to smother. “Is this what you need instead? I didn’t take you for the sort but I have no problem giving it to you as long as it gets rid of that grumpy frown for a little while. You’re way cuter when you don’t look so damn mad …”

You stand there for a long beat unsure of how to react. Knowing you should kick up a fit, fight him tooth and nail, drag his name through the mud for how he’s treated you here today and yet — somehow the heat of his body, the heady scent of his muted cologne seems to drain the fight from your body. It leaves you feeling empty and hollow, and a sudden rush of emotions quickly floods in to replace it all. You don’t really understand it, nor are you entirely sure you want to, but you were a little too tired to keep up the pretense any longer. Not while there was a veritable storm whipping up inside your chest.

Eyes watering with a new, inexplicable sheen of tears, you slowly bring your hands up to clutch at his waistcoat. Maybe it would be okay if you entertained this for just another moment longer … maybe you could attack him when his guard was down after you’d finished fighting back the sobs suddenly threatening to wrack through your body. He’d chipped away at you, wiped the slate clean, so to speak, and now he was filling you back up with a comforting warmth you wouldn’t have expected from him given his icy demeanor.

You still weren’t particularly fond of his methods but at least there was some amount of peace to be found in his embrace, and you may or may not have liked it just a teeny tiny bit. Not that you’d ever admit that to Wriothesley, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. You could certainly keep the secret.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #self insert bullshit

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watermelonlovershigh · 7 months

Text

Apologies and Giggles (SMUT) /concept/

AN: just another scene that kept playing in my head so i wrote it out. it's a little silly piece with a loving touch. enjoy.

This story contains: sex, giggles, apologies, mentions of ass play, kinda angsty?, harry being as sweet as ever

{ boyfriend!harry - softrry - current harry era }

word count- 389

During sex you accidently touch Harry's bum hole to which Harry finds hillarious but you get embarrassed and apologize.

"Baby, if you wanted to play with my ass you could have just told me." Harry says through giggles with his face in your warm neck.

See, you'd had your hands gripped on both sides of Harry's butt cheeks as he thrusted into you. But from his aggressive movements your fingers slipped between his crack and accidently touched his tight hole. After the initial shock of the touch, Harry fell forward and couldn't stop laughing.

"Har, I..... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean too, my hand just slipped." you try to apologize.

Hearing that you're not on the same page in this situation, Harry finishes his last giggle before sitting up, still inside you might I add.

"Y/N, love, why are you apologizing for? You've literally ate my ass before. You know I'm all for a little bum play." Harry says to consul your worried mind. He honestly didn't care one bit, even if it was only an accident.

Looking up to make the first eye contact since the accident occured, you rebuttal, "Yeah but it startled you. Like I should have asked to touch you there first and I didn't."

Harry leans back down so you're chest to chest again and speaks softly in your right ear, "Baby, we-are-havin' sex. We know each other's limits and do's and don'ts. As far as I know, I've never gave you a rule to not touch certain parts of me. I'm all yours. Whatever you wanna do or touch, I'm here for it. You don't have to ask. Just do what you know would make me feel good and I'll do the same to you, alright. And it only startled me because I just wasn't expecting it, didn't mean I didn't like it."

Very quietly, you mutter, "Okay, thank you for being so kind. Now can you start moving again because before I accidently touched your ass hole you were about to make me come."

Giggling again, Harry answers, "Yeah, want me to keep fuckin' you baby? Make you come?" You only nod your head and he continues, "Course I'll make you come, m'love. But like, can you do that thing with your fingers where you reach behind me and like, touch my bum hole." Now he's only mocking the incident.

You catch on to the giggles and gasp, "Harry!"

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic rec #boyfriendrry #boyfriend!harry #softrry #soft!harry #harry styles smut #harry styles smutty #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x reader #smut #fluff #angst #harry styles comfort #harry styles concept #harry styles blurb

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 4 months

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01/17/2024 Crew Recap

Well, today was once again a day of new and exciting things happening, and some fun progress on all fronts. Anything I missed -- as always please add. Links to all the threads are in the pictures so please visit them, I want to make sure people who actually posted them are credited :) I realize this is a lot, so if you don't wanna read it all, please at least hop to the bottom for a special message.

===Today's Impact===

Petition Status: We broke 58,000 Signatures! Great job everyone!

Our Flag Means Death Status on Television Stats -- Numbers went up a bit!

#SaveOFMD Trending #4 in Hungary, way to go friends!

Source

Wondering if your calls are working? THEY ARE! Apparently they are cataloging and categorizing calls.

Warner Bros Discovery Inc is still trending downward!

Our Flag For Palestine - Care for Gaza Fundraiser is up to $7535!

The team on this is pretty great about transparency, feel free to check out the twitter thread here

===Cast / Crew Sightings===

Chaos Dad, David Jenkins posted about the 35th Annual Glaad Media Awards Nominating Our Flag Means Death for Outstanding Comedy Series!

Con O'Neill started posting stories on IG with #SaveOFMD and also he showed up in a Screen Rant Plus interview! Our Flag Means Death Interview: Con O’Neill On Izzy & Blackbeard In Season 2

And our Pirate Queen Ruibo Qian was reposting save ofmd art on IG!

=Latest Twitter / Other Platform Insanity=

So apparently someone updated the Our Flag Means Death Wikipedia page to say one of the Production Companies was Astroglide, you cheeky little fuckers.

Source

Squishables joined the fun with Astroglide.

Astroglide Announced a Live Reaction Video to OFMD they'll be doing on Friday. Thanks to IG: _Irene_Adler for bringing this to my attention! Somehow I missed it looking at this post this morning.

===Articles===

1. Could HBO’s Beloved ‘Our Flag Means Death’ Jump To Another Ship After Cancellation?

2. Our Flag Means Death's "numbers weren't there" for renewal says MAX's boss - but it is welcome to sail to another platform

3. OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH CANCELED AT MAX, BUT IT COULD FIND LIFE ON OTHER PLATFORMS

===Ways to Help===

So I found of a new way to keep engagement up that I hadn't heard of before-- I apologize if you all already know about it and I'm repeating it! Daily Clicks to help with Engagement: Clickable Links below:

Our Flag Means Death Wikipedia Page Google Search for Our Flag Means Death Google UK Search for Our Flag Means Death Our Flag Means Death IMDB

Fundraiser for LimbPower

Looks like another fundraiser going on by our fellow OFMD Crew, right now is by For Our New Unicorn, that benefits LimbPower. This has been going on since December but has had some ramp up since the cancellation announcement. If you're looking for somewhere to donate, seems to be a good cause!

Calls / Emails / Faxes

I don't believe anything has changed in terms of calls and emails but here's the latest info in case you're just joining us, there's a lovely post over at @renewasacrew's post.

Postcards / Outside the US Fans

@renewasacrew has the following awesome post about how to send mail from outside the US: Are you outside the US and looking to send Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav a letter? 🏴‍☠️

Petition

As usual, sharing the petition with posts is super helpful, and @merryfinches has a cool guide on how to get additional email addresses if you want to help send more signatures here

Hashtag Updates from yesterday

#RenewAsACrew #SaveOFMD #TheNumbersWereThere.

================================================

❤️❤️Lastly because even if you are tired of hearing it, I'm going to keep saying it, so suck it up buttercup here comes some love ❤️❤️

================================================

Every single one of you is enough.

If you bust your ass for this campaign, YOU ARE ENOUGH.

If you signed the petition and that was it, YOU ARE ENOUGH

If you lurk and keep an eye on things, YOU ARE ENOUGH.

If you do nothing at all, and just take care of yourself, YOU ARE ENOUGH.

There is NOTHING in this world that you could do to make you not enough.

Remember that.

You are amazing-

and beautiful-

and everything you do every single day is wonderful-

and YOU are worthy of love.

You are doing a great job just being you. Keep doing that.

We are so lucky to have each and every one of you here on this planet with us.

Remember to drink some water, and take care of yourself if you can. Even if it's just a few minutes a day. You got this, and you're loved. 🥰

Love you crew. Have a good night/day, wherever you are on this little blue dot. <3

#ofmd #our flag means death #renew as a crew #save ofmd #thenumberswerethere #saveofmd #save our flag means death #our flag means us #ofmd daily recap

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farfromstrange · 3 months

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Mismatched Bridesmaid | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 2 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Deciding to go to your old college roommate's wedding turns into a bad idea when you suddenly have to function as a bridesmaid until you're paired with a very handsome groomsman.

Warnings: Fluff, attempt at humor, SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "good girl", One-Night Stand, shameless flirting, kind of "horny at first sight", so cheesy it might make you hate cheese

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: I was wondering why this didn't post until I saw that I hit "save draft" instead of schedule, so this may come on time for some and too late for others, but I'm still awake, so it counts as the 15th. Also, when I wrote this it was after hinting at it on here, and I was excited at first, but I'm not too happy with it now because it's just silly and falls a little flat, in my opinion. This is why I went back in and edited a hell of a lot, adding some things, etc. Nevertheless, I promised to clear out the vault for this event, so this is it. I got inspired by seeing the She-Hulk clips when the episode with Matty came out. It may or may not be noticeable. We're also working with the Nelson, Murdock & Page narrative. Enjoy!

You are not made for white-veil occasions.

While weddings, in their essence, symbolize unity while covering different facets of romantic beauty, they are also inherently stressful for nearly everyone involved in the proceedings. Over the years of adulthood, you’ve found that weddings tend to end in disaster when you attend—and you are not particularly fond of engaging in drama.

When your old college roommate sent you an invitation to her wedding in June, you considered responding with no. You’ve been close for a few years, but then you graduated, found separate careers, and then never talked again. You weren’t sure why she would send you an invitation until you called the number on the back of the card and you began catching up. She told you that she wanted to invite you because you were a vital part of her early twenties, and it reminded you that you are both adults and you have both grown beyond what you thought possible, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell her that you couldn’t make it to her wedding. Instead, you told her that you wouldn’t miss it for the world. That answer though seemed to have turned destiny against you.

You were excited when you arrived at the chapel this morning, but as soon as your foot touched the holy ground, everything went wrong. Maybe it is because you’re an atheist and God hates you, or maybe Karma just really fucking loves toying with you. Either way, when your friend’s maid of honor—also one of the few people you hung out with during your wild college days—came up to you, looking pale and panicked, you knew that the curse you always bring to weddings was only continuing to wreak havoc.

She said to you, “One of the girls got into a car accident on her way here. Don’t worry, she’s not dead, just a broken wrist, but that means we are one bridesmaid short. I need someone to step in before Janet finds out and cuts off my head for ruining her wedding day,” and she was deadly serious about it, too.

You knew that it was a mistake to come to this wedding, especially without a date or a plus-one to fall back on.

You were so focused on marveling at the beautiful white and golden decorations living the aisle, fantasizing about the day you might be walking down one of those that you didn’t think anything could go wrong since everything had been going so right. You should have known better than to trust that treacherous feeling of excitement that you made sure to nurture before breakfast so you could enjoy the ceremony and the party afterward without making it dependent on the open bar—although that fact did help.

Instead of dreaming about free drinks though, you’re being squeezed into a satin green dress with a low cut in the front, and someone you don’t know is slathering burgundy lipstick onto your lips. They are purposely trying to turn you into a copy of all the other bridesmaids, and you hate it. You hate it so much you get the sudden urge to scratch your eyes out and tear the skin off your lips.

Janet, the maid of honor, comes back up to you. She’s aged at least ten years since you last saw her when she pulled you away from the aisle. You feel for her. The entire weight of this wedding rests on her shoulders.

She eyes you, checking your outfit, before giving you a curt nod. “Thank God, you’re hot,” she mutters. You’re not sure if you were supposed to hear it.

“Thank you?” you answer awkwardly.

“Alright.” She fixes the corners of your lipstick. “We need to pair you with a different guy than Miss I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Drive was supposed to walk down the aisle with. Your looks don’t match. You’ll get Kathy’s partner,” she says. “And we need to line up, like, now because shit is happening in five minutes, not a second later. We can’t give Bridezilla the time to kill us all.”

With a frown, you ask, “Is she aware at all of what’s happening?”

Janet shakes her head. “No, and it’s better this way. Trust me.”

You stop questioning her. She knows what she’s doing.

When she guides you outside to line up, you’re not sure what to expect. You don’t know the groom, and you don’t know his friends. You’re here on your own, and now you’re part of a bridal party that you are also barely familiar with, wearing a dress that you were forced into for the sake of aesthetics. You hate when something is reduced to aesthetics because beauty has many facets, and you would have walked down that aisle with anyone as long as you could get it over with.

Until you see him. Strikingly dark hair in a perfectly cut tuxedo that underlines the muscles hiding underneath the fabric. His eyes are hidden behind round, red glasses that reflect the sunlight coming in through the already stained glass of the chapel’s windows. In his hands, he’s holding a white cane, leaning his entire weight on it as he waits. And he waits for none other than you.

Janet paired you with the most beautiful man on this planet, you can’t deny that. The way he stands there, his sharp jawline on full display—he looks ethereal. Just looking at him makes you sweat, and you’re starting to panic. What if she made a mistake? You can’t do this. You can’t—

“Matt,” she says and shoves you beside him into the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Janet introduces you, and then she’s gone. She pushes you into the cold water, forcing you to learn how to swim.

He tilts his head in your direction. “Hi,” he says. The sound of his voice resembles the purr of a black cat as it reverberates, but his grin reminds you of the Devil himself.

Fuck. Me.

You either did something very wrong to land here, or you did everything right.

“Hi,” you stammer. One look at him, and the blood rushes to your cheeks. Your face is burning.

He offers you his hand. “I’m Matt,” he says as if Janet didn’t already expose that to you.

Still, you take his hand. It’s the polite thing to do. “And I’m not supposed to be here.” Mentally, you curse yourself for being so stupid.

Matt chuckles. Even his laugh sounds bittersweet. Like dark chocolate. “I, uh, gathered as much.”

“I’m sorry,” you bite your lip, “I’m not—this is really weird. I don’t even know what to say.” You pray for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, maybe that will make it less embarrassing.

His features soften. There is no judgment. You can’t see his eyes, but there is a certain softness about him that throws you off guard, but you no longer feel like you’re drowning. “If it helps, I’m only here because I helped the groom graduate law school by writing his essays, and he feels like he owes me, so…I also don’t want to be here,” he says, and he reaches up to adjust his glasses. You get a small glimpse of his eyes. They’re hazel. Beautiful. He has an aura that draws you in; it’s not just his physical beauty that strikes you.

This man—this magnetic force of a man called Matt—is a stranger. He’s a man you were paired with to walk down the aisle even though you were never meant to be a bridesmaid in this wedding in the first place. So many things are happening to and around you at once, and you can feel the flames starting to burn and sizzle away at your skin.

You should pull yourself together. You shouldn’t stare at him. You shouldn’t listen to your heart which is hammering against your ribcage. But the emotions are already running high and you can’t possibly focus on anything else. He’s like a lifeline to you.

And God, you want him to put those calloused hands on your skin and take you to bed. But that’s not something to think about in a place of God. On the day of someone else’s wedding. Except that you can’t think of anyone else, and his proximity isn’t making the situation any better for you.

Another blush threatens to take over your features. “Oh, you’re a lawyer?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I have a firm. Nelson, Murdock & Page.”

“Here in New York?”

“Hell’s Kitchen, yeah. Me and my associates just reopened our doors to the public after a rough year.”

“Oh, that’s...cool. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you. And what do you do, if I may ask?”

His interest takes you off guard, but you don’t hesitate to answer his question. You tell him your profession, and how you met the bride, and he listens without another word. No man has ever paid you this much attention before.

Though Janet meant it when she said that you will have to start walking in exactly five minutes, not a second longer. She passed by everyone, handing out bouquets. Green with hints of red and gold. It fits the theme. They’re beautiful, but the flowers within the bouquet become a problem when she hands you your own set.

“Janet,” you stop her from leaving. “I can’t take these.”

“The fuck you can’t,” she retorts.

“Seriously, I can’t. I’m allergic to Jasmines. I’ll sneeze.”

She glares at you. “Then fucking hold it.”

There is no arguing with her, and she passes by you to continue putting everyone in their places. You stare down at the bouquet, your nose already starting to itch. The smell alone is enough to make you nauseous.

To your surprise, Matt reaches for the flowers. “May I?” he asks, but he has already grabbed a hold of them.

“Sure,” you answer, curious about where he’s going with this.

“Hold this.” He guides the top of his cane into your hand.

His fingers feel along the red ribbon. He takes a whiff. There are so many scents that would be overwhelming even to someone without heightened senses due to a lacking fifth one, so you’re even more surprised when he finds the Jasmines without a struggle. He traces the petals just to make sure, and he quickly pulls the flowers out of the bouquet, tightening the ribbon around the now smaller girth in the process.

Tossing them behind one of the pillars in the corridor, he hands them back to you. “Here,” he murmurs. “For you.”

Words elude you.

“Are you allergic to anything else?” The question is valid, considering you’re still not making a move to take the bouquet from him.

You exhale a shaky breath, reaching for the flowers, and answer without missing another beat, “Weddings.”

That elicits a giggle from him. The sound is enough to make your heart melt. Does he know what he’s doing to you?

Matt opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of heels clicking against the marble floors stops you both dead in your tracks.

Your entire body recoils when the bride’s voice rings out, echoing, “Who the fuck mismatched my bridesmaids?”

A hand rests on your bicep, and you don’t even have to look down to know that it is Matt’s. He’s the only one standing to your right, anyway. He squeezes as though to let you know that you won’t lose your head, but you’re not so sure now that your college roommate is glaring at you in a white dress that reminds you of a pastry, and her eyes are full of fury. He can’t see it, but he would cower in fear if he did.

Thankfully, Janet pulls her aside, explaining the situation to her.

“She what?!” she screeches. “On my wedding day? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, because car accidents respect timing when it comes to special occasions,” Janet counters.

You snort. Matt beside you digs his teeth into his bottom lip, but even he can’t hide his amusement.

“Oh, snap,” you mutter under your breath.

“Shots have been fired,” he says.

“I think we’re witnessing a double homicide.”

“I’m not a very credible witness. I can only describe how it sounded, unfortunately.”

Your snort turns into a laugh. The bride’s head snaps around, and you go quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“If she decides to throw a punch at your pretty face,” Matt’s breath tickles your ear, “I can be your attorney and sue her ass.”

This time, you’re conscious enough to slap a hand in front of your mouth to stifle your reaction. “How do you know I’m pretty?” you whisper back between little giggles.

He shrugs with a smirk of his own. “I just know.”

He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, and you have no choice but to submit.

Janet manages to bring some calm back to her friend eventually, and then it’s showtime. Right on the second, it’s time for you to walk down the aisle, and you have never been happier about a strict schedule and someone adamant about keeping that schedule for the sake of all of your lives.

Your roommate has always been a very dominant personality, so you’re aware of the things she can do when she doesn’t get what she wants.

An 80s pop ballad begins to play. You make sure to match your pace to everyone else but also make sure that you’re not running away from your partner.

You may have been a mismatched bridesmaid, but you can’t complain about the company.

Against all odds, the service is beyond beautiful. It’s not often you get to stand so close when two people who seem to truly love each other make a vow to be there for each other for the rest of their lives. You can’t help but shed a tear. They complement each other perfectly. Is that ever in the cards for you? Will you ever be able to have what they have? Or will you always feel like you’re not worthy of this kind of unconditional love and endless devotion—of someone wanting to spend the rest of their life with you?

You look over at Matt. The hint of a cross necklace is starting to peek out underneath his dress shirt. Of course, he’s Catholic.

He carries himself with such a grace that puts everyone else in this room to shame. Does he know that you’re staring at him? You hope not.

After the ceremony, you lose sight of Matt in the masses. He doesn’t owe you a goodbye, but you still feel a little disappointed when you return to the dressing room and finally peel the satin dress off of your very sweaty skin.

At the party afterward, he’s still nowhere to be found. You give up. Not that you want to spend the evening with him anyway, but you kind of do. You drown your sorrows in a glass of vodka cranberry and a bowl of olives. They taste like rotten meat, but there are too many people by the buffet for your liking. The last thing you want to do is mingle and get asked stupid questions by people you don’t even know. So, you stay back, and you watch from afar as everyone is having the time of their lives not so far away from you, but far enough for you to breathe.

“And here I thought weddings were supposed to be a joyous occasion,” Matt pipes up beside you, and you twirl around in your chair to face him with wide eyes.

You didn’t expect to see him back here. “Hi!” you exclaim. “What’re you—I thought you left.”

“Nah,” he says. “I just had to take care of some things.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked.”

Folding his cane, Matt lowers himself down on one of the chairs beside you and orders himself a beer with the bartender. “Let’s just say that I have an important court case coming up and I had to make a call.”

You take another sip from your drink. “That sounds a lot more exciting than my life, to be honest.”

“You are sulking at a wedding. Thinking about an ex?”

“More like life in general.”

“Ah, yes, the eternal fear of dying alone.” He raises his bottle to yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

A laugh escapes you. “That was cynical,” you say.

“And you’re not?”

He beats you at your own damn game, and he finally gets that smile he has been vying for.

“Are you smiling?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “Maybe.” But the smile is audible in your voice, giving you away.

Matt smirks, nodding his head. “Good girl.”

The sharp vodka runs down the wrong pipe. You cough. Did he just—

He did.

He pats your back, and his hand lingers a lot longer than it should. He looks so smug. Pleased with himself. That part of him is stupidly attractive to you, even though you would usually hate such cockiness in any other man. But Matt isn’t like any other man.

You apologize for your reaction, but he should be the one apologizing to you for throwing you off your game. What is he doing? You can’t read him. You wish you could because that would make this so much easier, but that’s probably the point. He wants to tease you. He wants to mess with your head. He’s a dick. A fucking attractive dick that could tell you to do just about anything and you in your flustered state would go along with it without hesitations. That’s the kind of control he has over you, and you just met. It feels like a twisted form of destiny, but you can’t quite believe it. Yet.

“Do you always do that?” you dare to ask.

He frowns. “Do what?”

“Flirt with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests?”

A playful smirk plays on his lips.

“It’s been known to happen,” says Matt.

You poke your tongue against the soft tissue of your cheek. “Cheeky,” you murmur.

“That’s also been known to happen.”

“What, being cheeky with—”

“—with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests? Yes.” He’s catching on quickly.

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, that.”

“I do have to say though,” he adds, and for a second you think he might ruin the joke instead of playing it out further, but Matt is full of surprises, “Out of all the mismatched bridesmaids I’ve met in my thirty-something years of, um, living, you’re my favorite so far.”

With your hand, you start fanning your face rather dramatically. “I feel honored,” you say.

Again, he chuckles. “You should be.”

“Why, because you’re so irresistible?”

“I was going to say that I don’t like a lot of people because, you know, they’re dicks, but that works too.”

“Wow.” You take another sip. The liquor burns its way down your sore esophagus. “You have balls, man.”

“Is that a problem?” he counters with a question.

The answer comes naturally. “No,” you say. “I like it.”

“Good.” Hearing you clink the ice cubes against your empty glass by swirling it around, Matt concludes that you need a refill. “Can I get you another drink?” he asks.

The question sounds so innocent, but the look on his face renders you speechless. His hand inches dangerously close to yours on the counter, his knee brushing yours, and the heat shoots straight to your neglected cunt.

Fuck this.

“You could do that, or we could skip that part and just…you know.”

One brush of your hand against his thigh, that’s all it takes for him to know.

Pushing you through the door to his apartment a few minutes later, his lips are on you. The door falls shut with a loud bang, and he presses you against the wall of his hallway.

His lips feel like a silky cloud of lewdness. The way he kisses you is utterly erotic. Your lips part in a delicious moan that he swallows with a grunt of his own. He swallows it all, shoving his tongue into the tight confines of your mouth, and exploring every inch he can reach. He tastes you. He consumes you.

His hands desperately search for an ounce of bare skin. He’s tugging at your clothes, sliding and tearing them aside. Once his fingers finally brush over the bare skin of your stomach, he melts.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Your leg hooks around his waist. You can’t wait. He has ignited a fire within you that no one has been able to light before. He’s touching you with a precision that puts your former lovers to shame. He’s paying attention to your every breath and heartbeat, and with every touch, he asks, “May I?”

You don’t even make it to the bedroom. Once he has successfully removed the bottom half of your clothes, he falls to his knees. He is a sight to behold. The disarray of colors that shines into his apartment illuminates his face, bathing it in a selection of hues that bring out his best features.

Matt has yet to take off his glasses, and you take the opportunity to tear them away from his face. You’re gentle though. You ask him, “May I?” mirror the question he has been asking you throughout the night, and after a thick swallow, he nods.

You caress his cheek as you remove his glasses, and when you finally see his hazel eyes in all of their glory, you have to bow down to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper. “So fucking beautiful, Matt.”

He whimpers. You could have sworn to have imagined it, but when you stroke his cheek with such a gentleness it almost makes him recoil in anguish, you know that you didn’t imagine the sound from his lips. You kiss it away. You kiss all of his insecurities away. You want him to feel as good as he is making you feel. You don’t know him, but you want to get to know him, and if he’s ready to surrender himself to you, you are more than ready to do the same for him. He can feel that with every brush of your fingertips and every kiss you deliver to his plump lips that taste like heaven and hell in itself.

Your words don’t leave him cold. His cock is aching in his pants—you take note of his impressionable size, which only makes you more excited for what’s to come—but he refuses to take it out. Not until you’re fully satisfied. To be honest, you could come just from staring at him on his knees in front of you, looking like he would lay the world to your feet and kill everyone who has ever dared to hurt you, but that is not enough for him.

He needs the experience. Feeling your skin, tasting you, and breathing in all facets of your natural scent mixed with the artificial one from your shampoo. He can’t get enough of it. Of you. Of everything about and within you. He’s as attracted to your body as he is consumed by your soul. You’ve got him in a deadlock, but he would never complain about that.

You gasp when Matt grabs your thigh and throws it over his shoulder. Your panties are gone within seconds, torn on the floor somewhere. You’re completely bare to him.

You want to warn him that you didn’t shave, but he doesn’t care.

Before you know it, he has flattened his tongue against your pussy, and he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

“Fuck!” you cry out, reaching for support on the wall behind you.

He flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, testing the waters before he sucks it into his mouth.

His grip on your thigh becomes bruising. Matt eats you out like he has been starving for years and you are his first and last meal. He sucks on your clit, and he fucks you with his tongue. Your pussy is the altar he worships at. Your arousal is his holy water. He dives deeper and deeper into the wetness between your thighs, and he moans loudly when you pull at his hair.

“Fuck, Matt–” You’re clawing at whatever you can find. It feels so good. You’re higher than you have ever been.

The sound of his mouth working your slick folds toward eternal bliss is obscene and utterly sinful. His stubble scratches against your inner thighs. The pain grounds you in the here and now, making you focus on the tidal wave that is about to crash into you and tear you to shreds.

You can’t even warn him before your orgasm takes over, and it takes you into another dimension. You come with a shout of his name. It’s nothing short of explosive. The orgasm drags on through his mouth on your clit, relentlessly sucking until the nerves jump, and you’re begging him to stop.

His face glistens. With every kiss up your body, Matt marks you. By the time he has reached your quivering lips, he still tastes like you.

“You did so well,” he whispers. “Such a good girl for me.”

You exhale. Without his shoulders to hold onto, you would probably lose your footing. “You’re crazy,” is all you can say.

He smirks. “In a good way, I hope.”

“Yes. Fuck.”

“Regret coming home with me?”

“Absolutely not.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He lifts you with ease. “Then I’m going to make it worth your while.”

And when your back hits the soft mattress and silk sheets of his bed, you don’t doubt that he is going to make good on his promise.

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