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msgexymunson · 1 month

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The Ink Shop

Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson.

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering.

A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me.

8k words

Masterlist Part 2

Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’.

The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out ‘The Ink Shop’.

Weird. This does not look like a printers.

You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly.

Oh.

This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop.

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors.

Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it.

“Hello?” Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look.

“You old enough to be in here sweetheart?” He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states ‘Strictly Over 21s, no exceptions’.

“Yes?” You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare.

“Oh, well then I'm Eddie,” he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. “What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.”

The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodile…

“No, no, I'm here about the job?”

He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare.

“Really? You?”

“Yes, me.” You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance.

“Hey, Mac!” He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. “This girl's after a job?”

Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over.

“You can let go now princess.”

Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing.

“Hey there, I'm Mac, the owner.” another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume.

A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts “no!” just as Eddie picks it up.

“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. “Yeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.”

As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac.

“What did I tell you, stop answering like that!”

Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips.

“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?”

Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again.

“Are you immediate start?”

“Er, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-”

“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.”

Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.

“Great. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.”

Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you.

********************

So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it.

It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this.

A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations.

“Hey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.”

Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.

“Ah, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.”

Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time.

Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.

Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad.

“Do you not have a computer in here?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.

“Oh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.” Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.

At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place.

Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that?

“Hey princess, didn't think you'd come back,” he smiles, reaching for your hand.

Oh I'm not falling for that again.

You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed.

“Eddie, the book says you start,” you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, “ah, at 10 am today.”

“It's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.”

He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here.

“Well, there could have been,” you snark back, folding your arms.

He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him.

“As far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.”

Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away.

“Oh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.”

He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing.

You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie.

********************

Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie.

“Hey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?”

“Any appointments with Eddie?”

“Just checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?”

It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back.

“Any walk-ins?”

The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm.

“You scared me! No, I would have said,” turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. “Why do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so… so popular?”

Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. “I don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!” Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. “We just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?”

You roll your eyes. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Do you have any, princess?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.”

The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement.

“You work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!”

The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back.

“Van Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!”

It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind.

Chloe walks over, coat in her hand.

“Hey, how you getting on?”

“I'm good, just bored.”

She laughs, “it's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?”

You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers.

“What, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.”

She laughs harder at that, “he's not so bad, once you get to know him.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “he's good at some things, you know.” The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe.

“Huh? W-what, are you like, an item?” You ask, entirely thrown.

“Oh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.”

A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. “I don't- I don't, do that.”

“I'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.”

Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe.

Right, let's just play nice.

Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing.

“I thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle” you quip, trying to keep it light.

“This is different” he responds, not looking up at you.

“You know, that's a waste of a needle.”

Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you.

“Who made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?”

“Mac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,” you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-”

Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo.

“Can't you just be… professional?” You ask over the buzzing.

“Can't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.”

Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step.

********************

Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people.

It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots.

You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were.

“Morning Eddie.”

“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?” The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words.

He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him.

“I'll be nice if you will.”

Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee.

“I'm sorry Eddie.”

Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Huh?” He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs.

“Are you sorry…?”

“What for?”

Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away.

“What did I do?” He huffs, shouting it to the shop.

“You should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.” Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face.

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“You upset everyone Eddie.” She laughs, and stands to greet her first client.

It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again.

He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move.

Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first.

“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?”

Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. “And why would I want a tattoo?”

He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. “Come on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.”

“We close at six, so it'll have to wait.”

Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.”

He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement.

“Well then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?”

“I want a heart on my hip” he groans, putting his face in his hands, “hang on, before you judge, I want one like this.”

Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.

“Oh.” Eddie's eyes light up, “that's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?”

“No, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's… not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.”

He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process.

“Right, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.”

Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word.

“Right here?” Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you.

“Y-yes,” you practically whisper it, face crimson.

“So, questions. Can I go first?”

“Sure” you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin.

“OK,” he starts, pressing the stencil down, “I'll start with an easy one. How old are you?”

“23.”

He nods, prepping the needle, “your turn princess.”

“How old are you?”

“Ah, copycat,” he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, “I'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.”

Act younger is more like it.

“I'm gonna start, you still alright?”

“Uh huh.”

“Atta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.”

He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.

The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling.

“Right, next question. Why here, why this job?”

The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow.

“I thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.”

He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink.

“I knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.”

Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask.

“How did you start working here?”

Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, “you need to get creative, stop using my questions.”

“I really want to know!” You say, meeting his derisory look.

“Fine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.”

You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen.

“What band is that?”

It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt.

“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.”

“Oh, what do you play?”

His face lights up, “I sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-” he holds one up, covered in black latex, “-oh yeah, gloves.”

After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.

“My turn,” he says, smiling at your hip, “I gotta know, are you a virgin?”

It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away.

“You can't just ask that, it's… it's rude!” you splutter, face glowing red.

There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply.

“I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.”

Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing.

“Your turn princess.”

“I don't want to play anymore.”

“Oh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.”

“Fine. What was your last wet dream about?”

To your dismay, he smiles yet again.

“You, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. “Fine, don't answer.”

He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, “I'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.”

“I don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,” you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused.

“Really? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.”

It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you.

“All done.”

“Huh?”

He chuckles and points at your new ink, “take a look.”

It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip.

“It's amazing Eddie. Thank you.”

The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. “No problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.”

Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second.

“Eddie what do I owe-”

“-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.”

********************

The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him.

Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line.

Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap.

“Hey Mac, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it Miss?”

“Well, how do people know about our Wednesdays?”

“Mostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee.

“Before you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?” You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him.

He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. “You know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.”

“Oh, thank you! I'll get on it.” You beam, and start planning the flyer.

Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear.

“What you up to, princess?”

“Fuck!”

You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to,” he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look.

Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass.

“Fuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!”

Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal.

“Just calm down princess, it's only a skirt.”

Pouting, you hit him on the arm.

“It's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-”

Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands.

“It's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.” He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home.

It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you.

Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing.

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.

There's a gentle knock on the door.

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it.

“Go away” you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there.

“I'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.”

He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest.

As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away.

After a while, he whispers, “feel a little better?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, voice returning to itself.

Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away.

“I didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?”

“I- I've never- I don't talk about- I-” you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. “OK.”

Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist.

“For your modesty. Come with me.”

Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried.

“What's going-”

Eddie interrupts, “emergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?”

Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods.

“Not a problem.”

“Thanks, man.”

Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth.

“I'll be right back.”

If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin.

“Hey, John!” He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar.

John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face.

“What the fuck are you doing here.”

“Oh come on, you know you missed me.”

John's face screws into something akin to a smile. “What do you want, you little shit.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie grins and winks, “two beers please.”

A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal.

“Put that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.”

You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you.

“Eddie, we're still working I-”

“It's one beer. It's alright.”

You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, “he knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?”

Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug.

“No,” he says enthusiastically, “you look just as pretty as you always do.”

Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier.

“Sorry again,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.”

Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. “Oh? And why me?”

“Come on, don't make me say it.”

Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you.

“I like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.”

Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty.

‘I'm not conceited,” you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull.

“And I'm the Easter bunny.”

Giggling, you take another sip of beer.

“Come on, friends? Talk to me.”

Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. “Promise not to laugh?”

“I promise.”

You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough.

“I- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.” Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.

“Wait, are you saying…” he chuckles a little in disbelief, “have you never… had an orgasm before?”

“Eddie, be quiet!” You urgently whisper, looking around the bar.

“No one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,” he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles.

“Eddie, I'm broken,” you whimper, voice breaking, “I can't do it.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he responds, chock full of emotion, “you're not broken. You are perfect.”

Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes.

“I can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.”

He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face.

“Fuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?” The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings.

“Yeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.”

There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it.

“Listen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.”

Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice.

“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.”

You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. “That's a little more than a favour, Eddie.”

“We can keep it professional.”

You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord.

“Professional? You?”

“Yeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.”

A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words.

“You're really confident.”

“You haven't seen what I can do.”

Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. “Look, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.”

“Ah, of course, you would have rules,” he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, “continue.”

Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need.

“First of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?”

“As crystal,” he grins wolfishly, “anything else?”

“Yeah- I think,” you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind.

“Final rule. No kissing.”

He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, “no kissing anywhere?”

“N-no, no kissing on the mouth.”

Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out.

“Kinky. Alright, deal,” he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness.

You shake it.

********************

For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it.

Those theories are put to bed on day three.

After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.

Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. “Sweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?”

“I designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,” you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes.

“Maybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.” He says, picking one up and looking at it closely.

“Maybe.”

Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

“If you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.”

Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands.

“Covert, I like it. See you then princess.”

By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards.

In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision.

The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled “Hello?”

“Hey princess.”

“Come on up.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy.

“Oh, you didn't need- I mean-” you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles.

“Just came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,” he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. “Nice place. Where's all your stuff?”

You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table.

“This is all my stuff,” you say, confused, “I don't like clutter.”

He chuckles, walking over to you. “No wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.”

He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin.

“Nice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?” He asks, pointing at the t-shirt.

“Yeah, you know who they are?”

“I'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.”

You scrunch your face in distaste. “No, not at all. You don't know everything about me.”

He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. “I know some things about you.”

Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve.

“So, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,” he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own.

“Take your boots off,” you snip, folding your arms.

“Ah, there she is.” He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him.

“Come on then, sit down.”

Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed.

“Now princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?”

Blushing furiously, you stammer out, “what, do you expect me to like, show you?”

He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. “As much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?”

Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes.

“Look, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.” He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him.

“Sorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just… reach down and fiddle around?” You blush even more.

“So you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?” He looks a little amused.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Porn, sweetheart.”

It's so blunt that you jump a little. “Oh no, I've never, oh no no.”

“Christ,” he whispers, “right, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.”

“Oh. Right.”

“And do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.”

“Huh?”

“Just, come here.” He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him.

“How do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-”

He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.

“Stop trying to control every little thing,” he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. “Look, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.”

“Great, all of the things I'm shit at.”

His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. “I'll help you, OK? You trust me?”

“In a very limited sense of the word, yeah.”

“Lemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just relax.”

You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm.

You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop.

“If you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?”

“Alright.” You whisper.

“You comfortable?”

“Yeah it's just- well-”

“Tell me.”

“I think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,” you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine.

“Easily fixed.” He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed.

“Now just chill sweetheart.”

His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck.

“Fuck, that's really nice.”

He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed.

“That's better, atta girl,” he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word.

“You, you're so-” you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.

“I'm so what?” He whispers in your ear.

“So, so arrogant,” you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.

“Yeah? What else am I?” He says, nibbling at your earlobe.

“You- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!”

Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment.

“You know,” he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, “those are pretty much the same thing.”

“You drive me crazy,” you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” He smiles, then bites softly at your neck.

“I- I haven't decided yet.”

“Good. I can say the same about you,” he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core.

“Are you going to- what are you doing, exactly?” You breathe, starting to move against him.

“I'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?”

Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words.

“N- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.”

He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Guys are a little less… complicated, than girls. For the most part.”

“Oh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?” Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast.

“Sweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.” Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point.

“Really?”

There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back.

“Really. Can I take this off?” He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand.

“Yeah.” It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more.

He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass.

His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you.

Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples.

“Holy hell!”

He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach.

“Eddie, please.”

Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?” he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit.

The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest.

“See, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?”

Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs.

“You're so fuckin’ sexy.”

Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel.

When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more.

“I'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?”

You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.

“It's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.” He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple.

The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess.

He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison.

“That's it, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control.

“Eddie, oh fuck, f-feels so- good, yes, please, please-”

You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him.

“God, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.”

The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent.

You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.

“So sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?” He asks as he strokes your hair.

“Better. Fuck, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Seriously. Any. Time. Day, night, weekends, holidays-”

You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up.

“Sorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.” You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light.

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“Well, doing that, not getting anything in return...”

He chuckles lightly, “Oh I wouldn't say that,” he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, “full disclosure, I came in my pants.”

“Really?” your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief.

“I ain't lying. Wanna check?” He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again.

“You seem better already. Right, I better go.”

Shoulders deflating, you pout, “I suppose you better.”

“Hey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.”

And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting.

As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #tattoo artist eddie munson #tattoo artist!eddie #teach me/show me Eddie #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem reader

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flseur · 4 months

Text

꒰ 𐙚 it's so lonely in my mansion — jjk men ꒱

⟡ synopsis : you've always gotten whatever you've wanted, and it doesn't stop with the men you're interested in.

⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, richgirl!reader, pool boy!gojo, private chef!suguru, ceo!nanami, age gap ( reader is in her early 20s, characters are in their mid 20s to early 30s ), fingering, missionary, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, doggy

౨ৎ note : first multi-chara fic in a bit ! it's a bit shorter than what i usually write i think bc i needed to do a bio and cogsci lectures right after but please enjoy ! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

୨୧ SATORU GOJO

❥₊ ⊹ "o-oh fuck!" you moan out, your little frilly pink bathing suit was thrown somewhere haphazardly and your breasts press against the strong plains of satoru's bare chest.

you were staying at your parent's summer house in the hamptons, it's upkeep being done completely by the hired staff. but one member of them would always catch your attention.

snowy white hair with matching long lashes, bright cerulean eyes, and a body that's hard to take your mind off of.

satoru had recently been hired to take care your olympic-sized pool, and you certainly were not complaining at the free (not really free) show that came with him cleaning it.

every time you knew he was coming over to do some work, you'd be out sunbathing, doing pilates, or "homework" outside. and every time you'd ask him for help with something.

your sweet voice would call him over, pouty lips and big eyes stare up at him and ask him, ever so innocently, "satoruuu... can you help me with this?"

which led to where you were right now. after about 2 weeks of asking him for his help, you finally asked him if he could, "pretty please put sunscreen on my back?"

you were flipped over on your stomach, laying on a lounge chair with your skimpy pink bikini bottoms doing absolutely nothing to cover your ass and you swore you could hear him gulp loudly.

his large hands massaged the lotion into your back, getting lower and lower until he stopped right where the string of your bottoms were.

confused, you whip your head around to see why he stopped before turning back over to face him.

"fuck..." you heard him sigh under his breath before hastily pressing his lips onto yours. "you're such a fucking tease."

satoru wasted no time ripping your swimsuit off, one hand coming up to pinch one of your nipples while the other crept towards your aching heat.

his lithe fingers brush against your folds before his thumb finally presses on your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

satoru continues his ministrations on your pussy until he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, making him stop his movements. "is something wrong?" he asks, concern laced throughout his voice.

"no..." you mumble. "i just want you to fuck me now."

satoru lolls his head backwards and groans, "fuck, baby... you don't know what you do to me. don't know how long i've wanted to fuck you and this pretty pussy."

"then do it." you chide, getting impatient.

hurriedly, satoru removes his black board shorts, his cock springs free. the tip is flushed pink with precum leaking from it.

satoru's hands grab at the fat of your hips, pulling you down the lounge chair and making your ass flush against his his own hips.

you squirm against him, desperate for friction then whimpering when your clit bumps against the head of his dick.

"patient, princess." a small smirk pulls on his pink lips as he watches you pout up at him.

"put it in already." you groan, getting more and more impatient.

and though satoru does like how horny you are for him, he's almost sure that he's more turned on then you are. he swears he's never been this hard before.

he leans down, his arms caging you in as his cock sinks into you. "stop squeezing me... can hardly move." he moans.

"c-can't," you gasp, feeling him stretch your pussy. "you're s'big..."

your ears were ringing and stars blurred your vision, the way he was splitting you open was deliciously sinful.

satoru lets out a low moan before pulling out almost completely, only leaving the tip in before thrusting his full length in.

"oh my god!" you cry out, your manicured fingers wrap around his torso and dig into his pale skin.

his pace was relentless, the feeling of his thick cock dragging inside your walls and his tip continously pressing that gooey spot in you was overwhelming paired with his balls slapping against your ass.

you were on the brink of your orgasm, feeling the build-up in your tummy. "g'nna cum—" your sobs turn into near screams as you feel one of satoru's hands creep down and rub your puffy clit.

"cum for me. cum on my cock, god, baby please cum. c-can feel you squeezing me, oh fuck." he babbles, not entirely sure of what he was saying but he knew one thing, and it was that he was going to make sure he got to fuck you every chance he got before you left for school again.

୨୧ SUGURU GETO

❥₊ ⊹ though you have all the money you need to buy new purses, clothes, and sports cars, money simply could not buy you cooking skills. after countless of cooking classes for beginners (and dozens of burnt meals), your parents decided to hire a private chef for you. and that chef was suguru.

he was there to make whatever you wished for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, which you appreciated but ever since he's come into your mansion, you've found yourself craving something... different.

and suguru could tell. each time you first came downstairs in the morning you were always in some silky pyjama set. dainty lace straps of the top would always be falling off of your shoulders where he'd see no bra strap causing his eyes to fall down to your breasts and he would see your pert nipples peeking through.

but this time, you had come downstairs in a tiny little pyjama dress that did not cover your ass at all. suguru had asked you what you wanted for breakfast and you mumbled "pancakes" quietly, still trying to wake up.

you brushed past him to open a top cupboard, standing on the tips of your toes to reach a cup, your dress moving upwards and showcasing your -- oh my god you weren't wearing any panties.

suguru held back a groan at the sight of your bare pussy before muttering a quiet "fuck it" and you felt his large hands grip your hips, flipping you around to face him before he urgently pressed his lips into yours.

soon enough, he has you bare with your ass sitting on the cold marble countertops. black tufts of hair tickle your inner thighs while your mind is overwhelmed with pleasure.

suguru licks a strip up your pussy, from your hole to your clit. then one of his hands creeps closer to your heat and a thick finger plunges into you causing you to moan out.

your hands grab at his hair, pulling at the roots and he moans against you. his fingers work wonders in you, each thrust calculated and precise. every press from the digits would hit that sweet spot that made your ears ring.

his mouth was the opposite of his fingers, wrapped around your clit slurping loudly and messily. his moans made you press his face deeper into your cunt, basically riding his face.

"cum on my face, pretty girl..." he looks up at you, alluring eyes looking at your own. "know you've been wanting to, i'll let you, baby.”

you let out a strangled cry and grind quicker against his face, clit bumping against his nose. your cries get higher in pitch until finally the dam breaks and you orgasm all over suguru's face yet he never once stops his ministrations. his mouth continues to work your clit and his fingers are still fucking into you.

you were about to be thrown into another mind-numbing orgasm, tears lining your eyes and you sobbed out in overstimulation until the high was ripped away from you.

"w-what?" you looked up at suguru, confused.

"this time, you're gonna cum on my cock instead," he says before you hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor.

୨୧ KENTO NANAMI

❥₊ ⊹ he knew he had an important meeting. knew it was with your father, but here nanami is, balls deep in his competitors daughter, whispering about how much he loves you.

you were bent over his large desk, your head facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. cute little tweed skirt pushed above your hips and your gucci monogrammed fishnet tights had a hole ripped out from the crotch.

when kento had ripped the hole, you gasped, ready to give him an earful of how hard it was for you to get those but you were quickly cut off by feeling his thick cock split you open accompanied by his strained voice saying, "i'll just get you another pair... another dozen if i get to do this to you..."

his hands were grabbing at your ass, while his eyes watched it recoil with each thrust of his hips. your pussy was dragging him in deeper, squeezing him impossibly tighter, it took everything in kento to not cum early, he needed to make sure you came at least twice before he does.

the sinful noise of skin against skin, accompanied by hushed moans permeated the office. each thrust of his cock was deep and impactful, but the pace was still quick. as much as he would love to take his time with you, he can't today.

"love you, baby," he moans. "love you so much, g'nna marry you one day, i swear..." kento rolls his hips, the head of his length pressing that gooey spot in you.

you let out a mewl, freshly manicured nails gripping the mahogany wood of the desk. you fuck your hips back onto him, relishing in the sheer amount of pleasure your boyfriend was providing you.

wanting to see your face, nanami's strong arms reach around your torso and pulls you upward, your back arching. he has one strong hand against your jaw, making your head face him while his other hand slithers down to your sopping pussy.

"k-kiss me..." you struggle between moans. "please kiss me."

and kento obliges. he presses his lips to yours as his hand begins to rub hurried circles to your puffy clit, making you moan into his mouth.

the drag of his thick cock paired with the stimulation of your clit was addicting, you pull apart from the kiss and your eyes roll to the back of your head. kento was overwhelming your senses, he was everywhere you needed him and everywhere you wanted him.

as your impending orgasm catches up to you, your hand grips the wrist of the hand playing with your pussy, the blunt of your nails dig into the skin.

"i-i'm cumming!" you sob, cunt sucking his cock in deeper and coating it as well as his wrist in your arousal. "love you s'much kento!" words slurring, still riding out your orgasm.

"one more time, princess... need you to cum one more time." he groans in your ear, moving downwards to press open-mouth kisses to your neck. his cock still bullying your insides while his lithe fingers rub your little clit relentlessly.

"y-yes!" you gasp, chest heaving.

"that's it... cum for me..." he coos.

as you come down from your second high, your ears ring but as soon as you come to, you realize the ringing wasn't from them. but instead it was from your phone.

[ (1) MISSED CALL FROM : DAD ]

dad: Y/N.

dad: Where the hell are you?!

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #DCxDP #dpxdc #jason todd #batman #crime alley #Danny: im gonna be an alcoholic #also Danny: a child needs help and I don’t drink anymore #Danny phantom’s saving people thing #drunk danny #alcoholic danny #but not for long #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd follows his big brother into being a vigilante #kind of #he becomes robin #but gets rescued by his long suffering brother every once and a while #alley drunk! Danny AU

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alfheimr · 25 days

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My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

#process #art tutorial #unsure what else to tag this as. if this does not post properly i will cry.

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lqvesoph · 2 months

Text

She’s WHOSE daughter??? || LN4

gif by @quadrantslandonorris

lando norris x webber!reader

summary: During a trip to Daniel’s farm house, you find an unexpected visitor standing in your best friend’s backyard

part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

masterlist | taglist

Part 2

"So glad you could make it!", Danny called and wrapped you into a hug as soon as he opened the front door. "You know I love it here!", you laughed and stepped into his home in Perth, Australia.

It was Monday before the Australian Grand Prix and Daniel had invited you to spend a few days at his farm before flying across the country to Melbourne.

You spotted an unfamiliar pair of shoes next to Daniel‘s million others but didn’t think much of it. Maybe he bought another pair.

"Daniel, tell me again where the- oh hi", you heard a familiar british accent, one that you have missed over the last three long weeks since Bahrain and turned around to find a dripping wet and shirtless Lando in the glass door that led out to the backyard. His curls were dripping shining droplets of water onto his defined and tanned chest from which you couldn’t teat your eyes away.

"The towels are in the drawer, mate", Daniel spoke, snapping you out of your trance. "Thanks", Lando mumbled but didn’t move from his place.

You all stood there in silence for a few seconds before you cleared your throat. "I… uh- I-I‘ll go to my room", you stuttered, taking the suitcase and quickly making your way up the marble stairs.

"Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?", you heard Lando hiss. "Why would you have wanted me to?", Daniel asked nonchalant, and you knew you shouldn’t eavesdrop but you couldn’t help it, wanting to know Lando‘s response. "I- I don’t know", he stuttered defensively before tapping over to the drawer to get himself a towel.

Truth was, his small crush on you grew over the last couple of weeks. He followed your every move on Instagram and Twitter, even scrolling down to pictures from 2016, finding a few of you and baby Oscar during his Formula 3 career or little you in Daniel‘s Red Bull from 2017. He‘s probably memorized your highlights at this point.

Adding to that he asked Pietra for her advice on your best songs and your discography has been on repeat for three weeks straight.

You put your suitcase next to your bed and plopped down on it, only now noticing your racing heart.

During your deep dive through Lando’s Instagram account, you obviously had seen a few pictures of him shirtless, the one from Bahrain being the set of pictures you were hung up on the most, even saving one of them. But jeez… none of those pictures did the live picture justice!

You opened your eyes and took a deep breath before rummaging around your suitcase to find the black bikini you had packed for your trip.

You put it on and took your towel, phone and sunglasses and made your way downstairs. Lando and Daniel sat by the pool on two sun beds, playing some sort of card game. Both were shirtless and had matching bucket hats on their curls. You chuckled at the sight and placed your towel on the third sun bed.

Lando looked up from the game and subtly looked you over, his eyes lingering at your pushed up breast, that were barely covered by the tight black bikini top, a little longer than appropriate but you couldn’t find yourself caring. The opposite actually, the little hesitation brought a smirk to your face.

You lay down on your stomach on the sun bed and closed your eyes. "If I fall asleep, please put some sunscreen on my back in an hour or two", you mumbled, getting a hum from both boys next to you.

You couldn’t even begin to explain how much you have missed the Australian sun.

*~**~*

You didn’t even notice you fell asleep until you were woken up by a pair of warm hands rubbing your back. Guess the flight has been more exhausting than you thought.

You lifted your head up slightly, still a little dazed from the sleep. "Heyy, good morning", a soft british accent spoke over you.

Lando.

Then you started noticing a few other things around you. For example your hair that was wrapped in a loose bun, one that you definitely didn’t do yourself.

"I put your hair up so it wouldn’t stick on the sunscreen", he said, almost as if he had read your thoughts. "Thanks", you mumbled, then you frowned. "How did you-"

"I have two younger sisters, so I know a little about hair styles", Lando chuckled and kneaded your shoulders while rubbing in the sunscreen. The small action made you groan a little. "Feels good", you muttered.

"I can tell", he spoke and you could hear the smirk on his face, so you kicked your leg up to hit his back. "Owh", he let out and broke out in laughter after. You couldn’t help but join in as well and pushed yourself up on your elbows to look around you.

You noticed the missing sunglasses on your face when squinting to see against the setting sun but quickly found them on the table next to you.

"Daniel is getting the grill ready and Heidi has just arrived a few minutes ago", Lando told you and you turned your head to meet his eyes. But got quickly distracted by his tanned chest. Your eyes flickering down and stayed there for a second longer than necessary, before looking back up into his green eyes and only now realizing how close your faces were to each other.

His gaze flickered down to your lips before finding your eyes again.

"Hey dipshit, dinner is almost ready!", Daniel called from the path between the pool section and the little hut with a fire place. "We’ll be there in a second!", Lando called back, not tearing his eyes away from yours.

Your eyes darted down to his plumb lips. "We probably should…", you whispered, letting your sentence uncompleted. Lando nodded but still kept his gaze you. "Yeah, we probably should", he agreed.

The two of you kept each other gaze for a few seconds longer before looking down at the same time and clearing your throats. You grabbed your black shorts and quickly put them over your bikini bottoms, feeling your heart beating fast in your chest and a small throbbing in your lower region. A quick stolen glance at Lando told you, your interaction also left its mark on him.

He cleared his throat another time before standing up and grabbing a baby blue loose dress shirt to put over his shoulders, leaving the buttons undone.

Together you made your way over to the fireplace, where you found Heidi and Daniel next to a bluetooth box that played relaxing music.

"Hey, honey!!", Heidi called and immediately came over to hug you. You smiled and wrapped your arms around the girl who has been like an older sister to you for the longest time.

"It’s so good to see you again!", she smiled and pushed a few strands of hair behind your ear. "Your hair has gotten so long!" You laughed and sat down at the set table.

Daniel looked at Lando with a knowing smirk, whereupon Lando rammed his elbow into the older guy’s ribs.

*~**~*

As the night came, the temperatures got chilly, even in Australia. You shivered a little even if the fire spent a little warmth.

"You cold?", Lando muttered, leaning over the armrest of his chair. You looked over at him, getting lost for a second in the way half of his face was light up by the fire light.

You hummed and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself.

"Take my hoodie", he suggested, pulling the lavender colored hoodie from his chair. "Thanks", you smiled.

From the corner of your eyes you saw how Daniel gave you a rather knowing glance but you chose to ignore it.

That was until he didn’t give you another option.

"Y/n, you wanna come and help me inside?", he asked but it sounded more like a demand. You nodded and stood up from your seat before following Daniel inside.

All while Lando’s eyes never left you.

Daniel was waiting for you by the kitchen counter. "What are you doing?", he wanted to know. You shrugged, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"He’s cute", you simply replied.

"You know I love you like my little sister but Lando’s one of my best mates. And I already know that he’s got quite the crush on you, it’s fairly obvious so I gotta make sure that this is coming from your side as well and isn’t some sort of joke flirting", the australian explained.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest. "It’s not, I really do think he’s cute", you nodded.

"Does he know who your dad is?", Daniel pressed further, knowing this was some sort of make-or-break question to you.

Given the history of boyfriends you’ve had and loads of your early ones, always dating you for your father, you’ve started to not tell people about your father. Not until you were sure, they were here for you.

Your silence gave Daniel his answer.

"If you like him, why didn’t you then?", he wanted to know. "Because I want to get to know him before! I met him once three weeks ago, do you expect me to just go like "Hi, I’m Y/n, nice to meet you. By the way I’m Mark Webber’s daughter"?? I haven’t exactly spent a lot of time with him", you muttered.

"Just… don’t lead him on. I haven’t seen him this nervous over a girl in a long time", Daniel sighed and opened his arms. "C’mere."

*~**~*

Even though the night got very late, you were up incredibly early the next day, still having to adjust to the eastern australian timezone.

As quietly as possible you walked down the stairs to the kitchen, wearing a pair of jogging shorts and Lando’s hoodie from the previous night which was incredibly comfortable and even smelled like him.

You grabbed yourself a glass of water and sat down crisscrossed on a patio chair.

The morning was still a little fresh, the sun just barely leaking out from the horizon.

"Bit early, isn’t it?", a british accent spoke from behind you. You smiled before turning around to meet Lando’s sleepy eyes.

He stood in the doorway, long gray joggers and a black hoodie, similar to the one you were wearing. His curls were a mess on top of his head as he ruffled through them.

"I could say the same to you", you countered, making the boy smile. "I couldn’t sleep, still adjusting to the timezone", he told you, sitting down on the chair next to you.

You nodded in agreement. "Me too."

For a moment you sat in silence, both looking at the sunrise in front of you.

"You wanna go for a walk at the beach?", Lando suggested after a few minutes, looking over at you.

You considered your options for a second but didn’t see a reason not to, so you nodded and stood up.

You put your glass on the table and your phone in the hoodie pocket.

Together you took the small path that directly led from Daniel’s backyard to the beach.

"Nice hoodie by the way", Lando smirked, tugging at your sleeves. "Thanks, some random guy gave it to me last night", you replied with a giggle. "And you just take stuff from random dudes?", Lando faked a shocked tone. "Nah, only if they are cute", you smiled, making Lando go a little shy as he looked down with a smile.

When the you reached the beach, you stopped in your tracks. Closing your eyes and enjoying the breeze of the ocean.

"I’ve missed this", you muttered, taking a deep breath before opening your eyes to find Lando looking at you. "Los Angeles just isn’t quite the same."

"You said you grew up between LA and Canberra", Lando stated, whereupon you nodded. "How did you meet Oscar then? Because as far as I know he’s spent most of his teens in England. Or Daniel, who’s from the other side of the country", he asked.

"Well, Daniel I met through Red Bull. My dad used to work for them", you replied, careful as not to reveal too much. "At base?"

"Something like this, yeah."

"He’s been like an older brother to me for the longest time but Oscar being closer to me in age, resulted in us turning out like twins", you chuckled.

Lando felt a sting of jealousy when you talked about his teammate like that, knowing he had close to zero rights to feel this way but still.

"Anyway, I met him in the paddock a few years ago and we’ve been friends ever since", you concluded.

"And you’ve been into racing because of your dad?", he asked. You nodded but didn’t clarify further but instead grabbed his hand and dragged him to the ocean.

"Cmon, let’s go in", you called. "Go in??", Lando protested but let you drag him closer to the water. "It’s Australia, it’s warm", you giggled and kicked off your shoes off your feet. You let go of Lando’s hand and entered the water ankle-deep.

You looked back to see Lando taking off his shoes as well as his hoodie, leaving him in a white shirt. Then he carefully tapped the water before walking to you.

"Nice, huh?", you smiled against the rising sun, closing your eyes for a second.

Cold water splashing your back made you scream and open them again. You turned around to find Lando with a devilish grin looking at you. "Lando!!", you called and splashed the water back at him.

In only a few seconds it turned into a water war, both your clothes turning darker from the water splashes on them. Your eyes stopped at Lando’s torso, the water turning his white shirt see through. And you weren’t ashamed to admit that his defined abs distracted you just more than a little bit.

Lando used your little moment of distraction to launch himself at you and throw both of you down into the water completely. You gasped for air, his arms still wrapped around your body and you hair falling in wet strands on your face.

"Idiot!", you called, pushing your hair back to see Lando grin at you. His adorable smile, paired with the wetness of his curls made you smile as well. You put your hand on his neck, slowly pulling him closer to you.

A drop of water falling from his opened lips, mesmerizing you completely. Lando’s eyes searched yours, asking for permission to go ahead. You glance back down to his lips before nodding slightly.

Only seconds later, his lips touched yours in a gentle kiss. Your fingers went through his wet hair and pulled at the end.

His lips on yours felt like fire, and you wanted more.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, his hand holding your thigh as his other squeezed your waist. His lips slowly traveled along your jaw, making you lean your head to the side to give him more space.

You let out a little moan when he gently sucked on the spot under your ear and felt his lips curl into a smirk. Lando pulled back to look at you, your fingers stroking his neck.

You giggled slightly and leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a second.

This is what happiness feels like, you thought.

📍Perth, Australia

tagged: landonorris, danielricciardo, heidiberger

yn.adams: Perth for the week

comments:

landonorris: Oh, what a pretty sunrise

> yn.adams: U think?

danielricciardo: When was that first picture taken???

> yn.adams: Today morning at about 5:30am while u were peacefully sleeping

> fan: Wait so if Daniel didn’t take that picture does that mean it was Lando???

oscarpiastri: 🤨

> fan: Oscar’s NOT a fan of this new friendship LMAO

fan: The boyfriend vibes are MAJOR on that last picture

fan: Since when are her and Lando friends???

fan: Okay but Yn and Lando would be crazy!!

> fan: I ship it, 100%

load more comments…

📍Perth, Australia

tagged: yn.adams

landonorris: She can sing and drive

comments:

yn.adams: 2:1 for me, u can only drive

> landonorris: 🥲

> fan: LMAOOO Yn roasting Lando hahahahh

oscarpiastri: yn.adams TEXT ME NOW!!

> fan: Poor guy’s feeling left out fr

fan: Is this a soft launch mr. norriz?

> fan: wdym "soft" HE TAGGED HER!!!

fan: The sunrise…

> fan: Nah u guys don’t understand the significance of that sunrise!!

fan: Lando and Yn posting pictures of sunrises… A picture of Yn that Daniel didn’t take…

> fan: New paddock couple alert??

fan: Lando letting someone else drive and playing passenger princess???

fan: Who even is she?

fan: Does she even know what F1 is?

> fan: LMAOO

load more comments…

taglist

Please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist or text be if you want to be taken off x

@im-an-overthinker @buendiabebeta @hungryhungariann @ohthemisssery @kenopsiababe @sawendel @enjoymyloves @ricsaigaslec @ravenqueen27 @temqr1 @leclerc16s @theamazingsimplethings-blog @coldmuffinbanditshoe @hotchnisscm97 @moneymasnn @justme2042 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @pleasantducktimetravel @anthonykatebridgerton @lisannehus @hannahholland1811 @lighttsoutlewis @mydutchproblem @dan3avocado @alwaysclassyeagle @cocomiracle @allthisfortommy @soleilgrec @cheeryara-blog @person2345-blog @aquamariene-me @judespoision @sbgal @teti-menchon0604 @darleneslane @flower-name @mehrmonga @paolexsstuff @kiskso @honethatty12 @namgification @champagneproblems17 @meko-mt @scopeiguess @bwormie @d3kstar @c-losur3 @lupitakapro @endlesssummer10

#lando norris #f1 #mclaren #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo #mark webber #ln4 #quadrant #landoscar #dando #landan #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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alltheirdamn · 3 months

Text

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You're on a cross-country road trip when your tires blow, and you're forced to get them fixed at a small town mechanic shop. When your card declines, you only have one other option to get your car back. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 3k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, mechanic!joel, sex for favors, oral sex (f + m receiving), blowjob, deepthroating, cum eating, fingering, squirting, semi-public sex, unprotected piv sex, size kink, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, joel being a disgustingly nice gentleman, porn with absolutely no plot A/N: I saw this gif float across my pinterest and had a terribly fun idea... so here it is. Enjoy a lil fun ;)

PART 2 | Masterlist | Ko-fi

“S’all fixed up now,” Joel said, walking into the waiting room.

You had been waiting a few hours to have your alignment fixed and tires replaced, and now you could finally breathe a sigh of relief. You were on your way through the small town headed east towards Tallahassee when both of your back tires blew out on the highway. You were lucky not to cause a crash and thankfully found a local mechanic shop only half a mile off the road.

“Thank you so much,” you exhaled as you stood up and stretched your legs.

Joel rounded the counter to the register, typing up the work order to charge you out. Wallet in hand, you waited for the cost, praying it wouldn’t make a dent in your bank account. You only budgeted so much for the road trip, and this definitely wasn’t in the budget.

“Alright, ma’am, lookin’ like it’s gonna be around $500 for everything. Shaved some off just for the hassle you been through,” Joel smiled.

Shit.

“Uh, okay. Great.”

You reluctantly handed over your card, praying it would be enough. Joel swiped it on his machine followed by a loud beep that clearly meant DECLINED. You let out a shaky breath, fishing through your wallet for another card.

“Shit, try this one,” you said.

Joel nodded, his brows furrowing a bit when it also beeped in the same tone. He slid your card across the table, cocking a brow as if to ask, ‘Got another one?’

“Fuck,” you laughed nervously. “Okay, how ‘bout this one?”

Another card. Another decline. How the fuck were you going to get out of town now?

“Sorry, ma’am,” Joel sighed. “No payment means no car ‘m afraid.”

You ran your hand through your hair in frustration, trying to come up with something. Glancing up at him, you took in his broad frame covered by a simple black t-shirt that seemed to hug the planes of his chest perfectly. You hadn’t even noticed the patchy beard or kind grin that he donned so well earlier. Maybe…

“Look, I gotta get out of here tonight,” you pleaded. “Is there anything I can do to just get my car?”

Joel crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps looking much bigger in that position. With a frown turning down his lips, he shook his head.

“Afraid not, ma’am.”

“Anything? Please, I'm begging you.”

He considered you a moment, his eyes raking over your figure. You felt your cheeks warm at that look, knowing what he might be insinuating. If that’s what it took to get your car and get the fuck out of this town, then why not?

“Anything?” He repeated.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m pretty fucking desperate right now.”

Joel came around the corner of the counter, crowding you until your neck craned up to meet his eyes. Your heart thrummed in your ears, warmth blossoming in your stomach the longer he stared at you.

“Desperate lil’ thing, huh?” He teased.

Backing away from you, Joel walked to the shop entrance and slowly turned the lock. He looked back at you as he flipped the sign to CLOSED as if testing your judgment. You gave him a meek nod, never letting your eyes off him as he stalked toward you again. His finger ran up your forearm, catching on the sleeve of your top and tugging it lightly.

“Follow me, darlin’.”

That sentiment, followed by the twang of his accent, was enough to make your knees buckle, and you followed him like a dog in heat. Joel led you back into the heart of the shop, scraps of tools and car parts littering the makeshift garage. And right in the center of it all was your car. Leaning against the hood, he patted the metal, beckoning you over. You dropped your purse on the workbench and walked toward him on shaky legs. Joel spread his legs a bit wider as you approached, his fingers wrapping around your belt loops to pull you in close.

You were a breath apart now, just the barrier of clothes separating you. Joel’s hands snaked around your waist and firmly palmed your ass through your jeans. You let out a small yelp as his fingers dug into the supple flesh, kneading and massaging until your eyes drifted shut at the feeling.

“You pay off all your debts this way?” His voice dropped an octave, and you felt the bulge in his jeans prodding against your stomach as you leaned closer.

“Fuck off,” you scoffed. “Wasn’t planning on my car taking a shit out here and definitely wasn’t budgeting for it either.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “Ain’t got a boyfriend to give you some cash to help?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be out here tryna fuck you for my car,” you quipped.

A grin split across his face at your defensiveness, as if he enjoyed you being a brat. You weren’t trying to be— honest to god—but you desperately needed to leave this town, preferably with your car.

“Y’sure are a bratty little thing,” he said, tugging you closer.

“Why don’t you stop talking so much and fuck me so I can get the hell up out of this small fucking town?” You grumbled.

Joel raised one of his hands to grip your chin, steadying your gaze on his. Sliding his thumb over your lips, he coaxed your mouth open and urged you to suck on his finger. Without breaking eye contact, you swirled your tongue over the skin of his thumb before wrapping your lips around it.

“Christ, darlin’,” he exhaled. “Might just let you suck my cock and send you on your way.”

You released it with a pop, a trail of saliva dripping from your bottom lip. Reaching down, you massaged the bulge in his pants, letting out a soft gasp. He was massive—bigger than expected. He let out a small chuckle as if reading your mind, bucking his hips against your touch.

“You’d give me my car for a little blowjob?” You questioned, squeezing his cock tighter.

“S’nothing little about me, darlin’.”

“Aren’t you just full of yourself,” you rolled your eyes.

Your fingers danced over the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down as he helped pull his cock free. You peeked down to catch a glimpse of it, your eyes growing wide. His cock was girthy and thick and definitely had no shortage of length, either. Precum leaked from the tip, and you wet your lips at the idea of trying to fit it all in your mouth.

“Y’gonna suck it or what? Car ain’t gonna pay for itself.”

“You gonna give me my car after?” You tossed back.

“Maybe,” he grinned. “Those tires might cost you extra.”

“We’ll see about that,” you smirked.

Sinking to your knees, you pulled down his jeans and underwear until he adjusted himself at the tip of your lips. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, squeezing softly as you guided it into your mouth. Stretching your lips wider, you swirled your tongue around the tip, basking in Joel's groan as you did so.

“S’fucking perfect, darlin’. That mouth feels fucking amazing.”

You took him deeper, moving your mouth in a rhythmic motion until you felt his hand come down to grip your hair. He held you steady as he snapped his hips back and forth, pushing his cock further down your throat. Sputtering around him, you dug your nails into his thighs as leverage while he continued fucking your throat.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he rasped. “C’mon now, take this fuckin’ cock down your throat.”

Opening your throat wider, you swallowed every thrust as tears streamed down your cheeks. Joel was relentless with his thrusts, your nose brushing against the curls at the base every time you took him deeper. You could sense he was close to the edge, so you dragged your tongue against the base of his cock with each stroke, spurring him on further. It elicited a primal growl deep within his chest, and within seconds you could feel the warmth of his cum sliding down your throat. His cock twitched inside your mouth as he came down from his high, and you hummed as you swallowed every last drop.

Using the grip on your hair to pull you off, you sat back on your heels, coughing and heaving to try and catch your breath. Joel looked down on you with heavy lidded eyes and a smug grin as if to taunt you. Cupping your cheek, he slid his thumb against your skin and brushed away the rolling tears.

“Open,” he ordered. “Show me.”

You quirked a playful smile, leaning your head back as you stuck your tongue out to prove you swallowed it all. Slapping your face softly, Joel let out a soft chuckle.

“Atta girl.”

You brushed the remainder of your tears away, wiping the makeup from your eyes, and you stood on wobbly legs. Smoothing down your shirt and jeans, you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked a brow.

“I think I earned my car back,” you insisted, your voice hoarse from how hard he fucked you.

“Hmmm, y’think so?” Joel questioned. “I think I deserve a taste of that pussy.”

You shoved at him playfully, rolling your eyes.

“In your dreams, cowboy,” you laughed.

With his pants still hanging down, Joel spun you until your ass was pressed against the hood of your car. Working at the button and zipper of your jeans, he shoved them down and pulled your legs free until your bare ass was pinned to the cool metal. Joel gave you a lopsided grin and shoved you further onto the hood.

“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t return the favor, darlin’.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you said, your voice shaky.

“Oh, but I want to,” he argued. “Gotta see how sweet you taste.”

Sliding down, Joel situated himself between your thighs, tugging your calves up to rest on his broad shoulders. He gave you a teasing kiss on your inner thighs before delving in, his tongue flicking at your sensitive bud. You careened back against the hood, your back arching as his mouth suctioned around your clit. Crying out, you carded your hand through the brown curls of his hair, anchoring his face against your wet cunt as it pulsed against his mouth. Joel plunged his tongue inside you, forcing another whine from your lips.

“Fuck!” You cried. “Right there! Oh my god, yes!”

He hummed in satisfaction, bringing his fingers into the mix as he opened you up, curling them against that sweet spot inside you. Keeping his mouth on your clit he worked in tandem with his fingers until that coil inside you wound tighter and tighter. With one more curl of his fingers, your orgasm surged through your body, forcing a gush of liquid to stream out of your wet cunt. Joel sat back in awe, staring at your glistening folds as your body trembled from the release, your juices covering his beard and mustache.

“Fuck babydoll,” he grinned. “You a squirter, too?”

You laughed awkwardly and watched as he removed his two fingers and brought them to his lips. Sucking them into his mouth, Joel groaned as he tasted the remnants of your orgasm. You knew you could squirt—it was your own dirty little secret—but something about seeing him covered in your juices made you want more. Tugging him softly with your calves on his shoulders, you urged him back to your soaked entrance, silently begging for another round.

“Gonna cover me in your juices again, darlin’?” Joel smirked.

“Mhmm,” you whined.

“Drench me babydoll, let’s see it.”

Joel’s mouth was on you again, lapping up the juices leaking out of you until you were crying out for him. He didn’t let up as he sucked your aching clit between his teeth, his tongue working at the bud in earnest. He pushed his fingers back into you, your cunt pulsing violently each time he curled them. Slipping a third finger in, he stretched you wider and moaned against your clit as your body tensed with another orgasm. Another rush of liquid made it past his fingers, soaking his mouth and chin. You could feel it trickle down the seam of your cunt, drenching the hood of your car as you thrashed against it.

“Christ, Joel,” you mumbled, your head lolling to the side.

He rose to his feet, wiping a hand over the hair covering his chin as he smiled at you. You sat up slightly, positioning yourself on your forearms as you watched him slide his jeans further down his legs. You were already in this deep; you might as well keep going. Spreading your legs a bit wider, you raised a finger to beckon him closer.

“C’mon cowboy,” you teased.

“Y’really need that car, huh?” He smiled, lining his cock up to your entrance.

“I really do,” you whimpered, nodding your head vigorously.

Joel eased himself inside you, inch by fucking inch, until he was fully seated at the base of his cock. You both groaned in unison, his cock sliding in and out of you easily from all the juice leaking from you. Crossing your ankles behind his back, you pushed him deeper, mewling at the sensation of the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. You could feel that stinging stretch of your cunt as he picked up his thrusts, your ass sliding up the car each time.

“Shit, babydoll,” he growled. “S’fucking tight around my cock.”

“You feel so good, Joel,” you hummed. “Please, I need it harder.”

Listening to your pleas, Joel planted his hands on either side of your face, pistoning into you with brute force. He bent down, sucking and biting the skin of your neck until you were crying out from the pain mixing with the pleasure. You rolled your hips to meet him thrust for thrust, your cunt fluttering against his cock each time. That blinding orgasm was on the horizon as your muscles tensed up for its release. Running your hands up under his shirt, you dug your nails into his back muscles, dragging them down his tanned skin. Joel groaned into your ear, his hips snapping against yours harder and faster.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” You sobbed. “I–I’m gonna fucking cum, Joel!”

“Yeah, babydoll? Fuckin’ soak me with it.”

He pulled out at the last moment, a heavy stream of liquid pouring from your cunt and coating your inner thighs and Joel’s cock. Without wasting a second, he drove back into you, picking up the pace despite your body still shaking and dripping from your orgasm. You could feel your tears rolling down the sides of your face, that warmth still coursing inside you. Joel’s thrusts grew erratic and off-rhythm, and you sensed his orgasm was pushing him to the edge.

“Y’gonna let me fill that pussy, darlin’?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his voice sent shivers up your spine.

“God, please,” you cried.

With one…two…three final strokes, Joel was grunting and painting your insides with thick bursts of his cum. You both lay there limp and fucked out for several moments, catching your breath and chuckling as reality settled back in. He slipped out of you and drew his pants back up his legs, his eyes roaming over your sweaty body. With one hand, he tugged up the zipper of his jeans, using the other to push the cum leaking out of you back into your wet cunt.

“Gotta send you off with some sort of parting gift,” he laughed.

You couldn’t help but laugh, too, adjusting yourself and sliding off the hood. Joel bent down to ease your pants back over your thighs and hips, helping with your own zipper as you stood awkwardly in front of him. Joel leaned in to kiss your cheek before walking to the corkboard hanging from the wall. Retrieving your keys from one of the hooks, he offered them to you with a kind smile.

“I’m free to go?” You asked, reaching for them.

He pulled them away, shaking his head with a teasing grin. You pouted sarcastically, opening your hand and waiting.

“One kiss, and we call it even, babydoll.”

You grabbed either side of his face, pulling him in for a hungry kiss. You coaxed his mouth open, teasing your tongue over his, tasting your arousal still lingering on his tongue. Joel deepened the kiss, tangling his free hand in your hair to anchor you closer. Pressed up against him, you found yourself thirsting for more but knew you had no obligation to stay. Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you pulled away reluctantly and snatched the keys from his hand.

“Thanks for the new tires, cowboy,” you grinned.

Joel dazzled you with another gorgeous smile, the lines around his eyes creasing as he gave you one final nod. You squeezed your way out of his embrace, making your way to the driver's side door. He followed you over, opening it like the gentleman he was, waiting till you were situated inside. Leaning in for one more kiss, he lingered a moment too long before breaking away.

“Safe travels, darlin’. If you ever need some work done, y’know where to find me.”

You dug your keys into the ignition, letting the car rumble awake. Joel shut the car door with one final smile and watched you reverse out of the mechanic shop. Giving him a small wave, you turned onto the street and back toward the highway with a soreness creeping up your thighs.

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