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pullhisteeth · 1 year

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classified | eddie munson x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello?"

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

"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm twenty-three."

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, thanks," you say.

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y'still there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."

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

Can't argue with that logic.

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

"How do you want to do this?"

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

"What?"

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

"Hah, okay. 1965."

"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"

"Shit, yeah, one sec."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eddie. Munson."

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

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

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

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

What if you're great?

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

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

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

One hour.

He's early.

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

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

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

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

"Eddie?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What d'you mean?"

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

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

"Okay," you sigh.

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

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

"So did you grow up here?"

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

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

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

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

"And you got the job?"

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

"How's that going?"

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

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

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

"Did you grow up here?"

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

"Why'd you move here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, sorry."

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

"We haven't even-"

"Will you?" he presses.

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

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why are you so far away right now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look up at him and nod again.

"I need to hear it, sweets."

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

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

"Eddie?"

His hand stills and he looks at you.

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

"That's okay."

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I just-"

"Yeah, take a second."

"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."

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

"You alright?"

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

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

"What do you mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

"How so?"

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"What does that mean?"

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

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

"What the fuck, dude?"

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

"I didn't-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff, turning away from him.

"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."

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

"Yeah, that. Not this."

"This is part of that."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

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

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

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

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

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

"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.

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

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

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

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

"You're really pretty, you know."

You just look at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, but…"

Just like before, the words stall in your throat.

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

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

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

"Go on."

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

"That's the definition of a fantasy."

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

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

"Can I sit on your lap?"

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

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

"Go for it, baby."

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

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

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

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

"'Course you are, here-"

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

"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"

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

"Oh, for fu-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fucking nicknames.

"I know, I just… Can you just-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

"Shit," he hisses.

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

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

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

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

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

You trace them with gentle fingers.

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good girl."

Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.

"Good?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

"'Course."

"And can I… Can I undo yours?"

"Shit, sure you can."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Christ, yes, okay."

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

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

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

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

"Yes, yeah."

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

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

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

"Yes," you respond too quickly.

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

"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," you agree.

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

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

"No," you bite defensively.

"It's okay."

You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.

"Do you ever…"

Another sigh.

"Do you ever touch yourself?"

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

"Yes."

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

"I, uh…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, yeah, okay."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, ma'am."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You got condoms?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"I've got you."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"

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

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

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

"You close?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, he says, "Shit."

You laugh, scrunching your face.

"Yeah," you agree, "shit."

He squeezes your hand.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Really liked it."

"Okay for your first time?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is it a date?"

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

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

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

"Well, wanna come?"

"I'd love to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can go now, if you want-"

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

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

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

"Yes, please."

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

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

"I'll be here."

"Munson! You made it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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jeysbvck · 17 days

Text

even if it's a false god (we'd still worship this love)

a/n; ive been working on this for over a year, & after four rewrites, its finally here! thank you to @pedroassmanpascal for your help when i was conceiving this & working on it last year! this is my first time working in this genre, & it hasn't been beta read all the way thru, so please let me know what you think!

warnings; pov change, a butt load of angst, age gap (reader is in her thirties), violence, death/murder, near death experience, voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, male!recieving, female!recieving, penetrative sex (if ive missed any feel free to let me know!!)

taglist; @likedovesinthewnd @harmshake @nightmare-viper

word count; 7.3k

summary; Joel's been pretending you don't exist for weeks now, and you have no idea why. But when you get caught up in a life or death situation, confessions are made, lines are crossed, and your relationship is changed.

Every single part of Joel's body hurt, and he was exhausted. Joel was always exhausted, but this day had been particularly hard. Everything that he - and you had gone through had been for nothing. The supplies and weapons you had been looking for had been looted already. Only a few old, rusty tins of food covered in at least a years worth of dust had been left behind. Not to mention the constant hoards of infected you had to fight through. Now, it was a fight to get back to the QZ to make another plan that could end the exact same way. Yeah, he'd had plenty of bad days, but this one would sting for a while. The hope that had been reignited had gone out again. Now he was just tired.

No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't sleep. He was just lying on the hard floor -the fabric floor of the tent and his blanket doing nothing to help with the lumps under his back- with his eyes closed and ears alert. He knew how dangerous it could be, the horrors lurking in the woods, even when it was calm and quiet, and he hoped you had heeded his advice and were asleep with your gun.

But then he heard a whimper, and his eyes shot open as he stayed silent, his hand on his pistol. A barely heard whine, and he sighed with relief as he realised it was you. These past few weeks had been taxing - although the past twenty years hadn't exactly been a cake walk - and it dawned on him that you were probably crying. Joel had been so drained and tired during dinner that he selfishly hadn't noticed you were unusually quiet. He also didn't think about it when you retired to bed early. Joel tried to ignore the sounds, but he couldn't, he was just picturing you curled up in your tent, crying yourself to sleep, and the guilt of not noticing anything was wrong was gnawing at him. He groaned and slipped out of his tent, making his way to yours while putting the gun in the back of his jeans.

He quietly navigated the campsite and stopped outside your tent, unsure how to proceed. Did he knock on the fabric door, or did he call out your name? He wasn't good at this stuff, and he hadn't been for a long time, but he also knew that you needed someone; or, more specifically, you needed a friend. You were just that kind of person, even if the world had forced you to pretend you weren't. For a few seconds, he couldn't hear anything, but just as he was about to give up, he heard another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan. Then another one, louder now, and there was no mistaking it that time. Joel's body stiffened, and he started to get hot as his cock twitched at the thought of you getting yourself off, mere feet away from him. He heard your sleeping bag rustle slightly, and he bolted back to his tent, breathing heavily as he zipped the tent door.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, trying - but ultimately failing - not to think about what he'd just almost interrupted. His jeans were uncomfortably tight, and he had to unbutton them just for some relief. He tried to divert his thoughts, to think about anything else, but his mind took some winding paths just to get him back to thinking of you. Joel groaned. He needed a release, and it had been a long time since he'd done, well, anything. It wasn't going to hurt anyone, and you were doing it just mere feet away from him, so what was stopping him? They were all flimsy arguments. He knew that, but it was the easiest solution to the problem at hand.

Joel slipped a hand into his boxers, his cold touch sending goosebumps down his spine, the sensation making him harder. He began to stroke himself, and when he closed his eyes, he could see you writhing around in your tent, your fingers deep inside yourself. He could hear you from your tent still, your quiet whimpering and moaning sounding out through the stillness of the forest, and Joel caught his own moan in his throat as his movements got quicker. He couldn't bring himself to care about the possible dangers lurking, the grip he had his cock on tightening slightly as pictures of you clouded him. He imagined you being in here with him, imagined that you were both watching each other. It didn't take long for Joel to make himself orgasm, and he cleaned himself up, hoping sleep came to him before the guilt did.

Joel spent the next few days convinced he was going crazy. Every time you looked at him, he was sure you could see the guilt he was struggling to hide, like his memories would be projected for you to see. Every time you said his name, he was waiting for you to tell him you knew what he'd done, that you'd seen him outside your tent, and heard him in his. He felt so dirty, creepy, ashamed, and at some point, he shut down completely. He knew you were confused, you weren't as good at hiding your emotions as you thought, and you were confused by what you could've possibly done to warrant the cold shoulder from Joel, who could barely look at you, and it made him feel worse. He just didn't know what else to do, so he went back to what he knew best.

After traipsing through the woods for what felt like forever, Joel just wanted to set up camp and get through the night. He was tired, sore, hungry, and needed a moment away from you, without your sad eyes staring at him, without your attempts to get him to open up. So when you announced that you'd had enough and insisting that you stop for the night, Joel didn't argue. While Joel set up the tents, you gathered some wood from the perimeter of the "campsite", and Joel took a moment to watch on fondly, smiling to himself at the smug look of accomplishment on your face, taking the "win" against Joel.

Dinner was silent that night, as the past few had been, and while Joel refused to look up from his food, you were refusing to take your eyes off Joel. Your gaze was burning a hole in his head. He felt scrutinised as he ate, and it took everything in him not to engage. He didn't know if you were trying to annoy him into talking to you or if you were lost in your own thoughts, but he didn't ask.

Once again, straight after dinner, you headed into your tent, sending a soft "goodnight" Joel's way. He looked up but not before the sound of the zip echoed out, and he sighed, rubbing his temples.

The fire had died long ago, but Joel still hadn't found the energy to crawl into his tent. He stared up at the starry night, and just as his mind started to wander into dangerous territory -somewhere he never went if he could help it- he heard the noise that had been playing on a loop in his head for the past two days. His cock stirred and he covered his face with his hands. Not again.

He knew he had to get back to his tent and fast, but he had to do it quietly. He began to slowly move the canisters and empty tins, careful not to make any noise. He didn't want you to think he was a pervert. Although that's exactly how he felt right about now. He was about to stand up when he heard a single word from your mouth that made him stop in his tracks.

Joel.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Did you know he was there? Did you hear him? Could you see his silhouette projected on your tent, like it was a cinema screen? He ran through a hundred excuses in his head as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw no signs that you'd heard him. He scoffed at himself and shook his head. He really was going crazy.

Mmm, Joel, don't stop!

He definitely wasn't going crazy, there was no mistaking it. Not only were you masturbating, mere feet from Joel, but you were moaning his name, and he had never been so hard in his life. He couldn't stop himself, and once again, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, and while you moaned and gasped from inside the tent, Joel pleasured himself.

His precum was seeping out and over his fingers, and he bit down harshly on his lip to stop his own sounds from escaping. His motion got quicker, matching the sweet sounds coming from your tent, and when you brought yourself to orgasm and Joel's name slipped from your lips, he came undone. He emptied himself onto the dirt, too entranced by your gasps to notice the streams spilling over his fists. He dropped his head against the log behind him and groaned.

"Shit."

It happened three more times, and Joel had never been more conflicted. He was constantly stressed and on edge; the guilt from what he was doing was eating away at him. He'd always been someone that could control himself - he had to be - but when it came to this, to you, it was like something triggered inside him. He'd known you for years and had never had these thoughts or these feelings. Then again, he'd never spent this much time with you, and he'd never heard his name fall from your lips like that.

Joel couldn't deny he thought you were beautiful, and that maybe it inflated his ego a little, that you were thinking about him while you fucked yourself with your fingers, or dreaming about him, but he was under no illusions that it meant anything. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just the only person you'd seen in weeks that wasn't trying to kill you, and feelings get warped. Especially with the way the world was now. Besides, he'd seen the guys that hung around you like moths drawn to a flame. They were much younger and fitter than Joel was. Yet, he found himself as one of those moths, and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be caught in your flame.

Joel was no longer waiting to hear you to get himself off. His mind would conjure up images that made it so he couldn't help himself. Images of your mouth around his cock, your hair tangled in his fingers as he fucked your face. His head buried deep in between your legs as he ravished you, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of ecstasy. Of his cock slamming into you, his fingernails leaving little indents in your ass as he gripped firmly. The fact that he would never get the real thing didn't bother him. He was content with his fantasies. But he still felt guilty, and the tension between you and Joel was getting worse.

But things were beginning to simmer inside Joel, and his secret masturbating habits were no longer the sole reason for his behaviour. Joel would look over at you, by the fire feading the book you'd memorised front to back, and he'd let himself imagine running his hands through your hair as you sat lazily against him. When he slept, his dreams were of a life he'd never thought he'd want - or have again, and you were always by his side. He'd dream of dancing with you in the living room, waking up beside you, the sunlight making you glow like an ethereal figure. He'd dream of being happy. He'd put it down to the ridiculous situation he found himself in and told himself that once you were both back in the QZ, things would go back to normal. You would go back to people your own age, and Joel would just be a memory of a small fantasy you had while on a difficult run.

But then, as if the universe was trying to intervere, everything changed. The abandoned building you'd been hiding out in turned out not to be not so abandoned, and the two of you had gotten yourselves into a sticky situation. Hunters had cornered you, and in all the chaos and commotion, the last man standing had grabbed you, now using you as a human shield with his arm almost choking you, a knife pressed just above your collarbone while Joel had his gun aimed right at him.

"I'll take yer girls head off!" The guy yelled. Joel could see you were terrified, and it took everything in him not to let his rage consume him. He knew that one wrong move could get you killed. He needed to be smart about this.

"Look, man, we don't have much, but you can take it all. Just let her go." Joel said, trying to keep his voice even. He was terrified that he wasn't going to be able to save you, and he couldn’t live with that. It wasn't just about someone else that he cared about dying or about him failing. You understood him, and somewhere along the way, you had unknowingly brought him out of the darkness. You were his beacon of light, and if he lost that, if he lost you, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out of the darkness again.

"Yeah? What if I want 'er?" The hunter sneered, caressing your cheek with his knife, pressing the tip into your skin ever so slightly.

"Not an option." Joel growled.

"Seems like it is to me. I could drag 'er outta here right now. There ain't nothing you could do about it."

You felt sick. You couldn't believe you'd let yourself be distracted by Joel being tackled to the ground, and now this disgusting pig had you in a fucking headlock. You'd seen Joel take down hunters and the infected, sometimes effortlessly, so why the hell did you freeze when Joel had been pinned to the floor momentarily? Your feelings for Joel were getting more and more confusing, and you didn't like it one bit, they were going to get you or Joel killed if you carried on like this.

It's not like you wanted to be attracted to Joel, not when there wasn't a single thing you could do about it. Why would Joel ever go for you? He was twenty years your senior, old enough to be your father. There was just no chance in hell. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from fantasising about him. It wasn't hurting anyone, and it was keeping you somewhat sane, and he'd never know.

"You won't make it out of this room." You heard Joel say in his deep, gruff voice, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt the man breathing on your neck, the hot air making your stomach twist, bile rising up your throat as he inhaled your scent, his own vile one violating your senses. You clenched your fist and felt the cold blade of your dagger against your arm, the one you'd forgot you had up your sleeve, literally. How big of an idiot was this guy? How didn't he see you had a knife? As Joel and the hunter traded words, you quickly formulated a plan. If you could somehow manage to stab - or at least slash the guy - maybe he'd let go of you, and then Joel could get a shot in.

"Let go of me!" You shouted, struggling slightly, while slipping the knife further down your sleeve. It worked, and you smirked proudly. You raised your eyebrows at Joel before glancing down at your hand, subtly flashing the knife. You looked back at him, then darted your eyes to your captor. Joel took a second, and you knew he was weighing up his options before he nodded slightly. His eyes darted down to the guys leg, and you winked to let him know you understood the plan. The man still had a fucking knife to your throat, and you didn't want to give him any warnings or ideas.

"Don't worry." The hunter said, 'I'll look after 'er good."

Joel nodded to you, and you clenched the knife, stabbing right into the hunter's thigh. His yells of pain echoed around the room, and he released you from his grip, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor. You stumbled forward, kicking the weapon across the room, but you thankfully managed to stay on your feet. You grinned at Joel, feeling victorious, but it was a fleeting feeling.

"Fuckin' bitch!" The hunter shouted and you turned around, but not quick enough. The knife was sticking out of his thigh, but it didn't seem like he felt it, he was too overcome with rage, and the back of your head slammed against the wall as the hunter pinned you by the throat. You gasped for air, the guys hands squeezing the life out of you, spit flying as he screamed in your face.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you goddamned bitch!"

You tried to pry the man's hands from around your neck, but it was no use. He was too strong, and your vision was fading rapidly. You were barely able to gasp Joel's name, and you were quickly losing consciousness. All you could do was stand there and let the darkness consume you as you thought about Joel. The way he'd try to hide his smile when you did something wrong, or when you said something silly. The way he laughed, how it was the rich sound you rarely got to hear. How he protected you, even though he clearly didn't want to be around you. How you were going to die, not knowing what you did to make him ignore you the past couple of weeks. Not knowing why he had this sudden disdain for you.

But then, the pressure around your neck suddenly disappeared, and you fell to the floor, gasping for air as you clutched your throat, your eyes wide and darting around wildly, searching for Joel.

He appeared on his knees in front of you and grabbed your face, his panicked, brown eyes staring deep down into your soul.. "Hey! Hey! Are you alright? Come on baby, just breathe for me."

His large hands were warm on your cheeks, the hunter's blood that stained them smearing across your skin as he caressed your cheek, but still, you leaned into his touch. He had never been this gentle before; in fact, he'd never really touched you unless being dragged by your wrist as you ran from infected counts. "I'm okay," you managed to say, and Joel sighed with relief.

"We need to move. Can you stand?" Joel asked, and you nodded, eyes closed as you took a few extra slow, deep breaths. "Okay. Take my hand."

You opened your eyes to Joel's outstretched hand and you took it, letting him haul you gently to your feet. He hooked his arm under yours to help you walk, and as you concentrated on walking with shaky legs, Joel guided you to the door. "Wait here." He said, disappearing out the front door to check for any danger.

As he did so, you turned to inspect the chaos you were leaving behind. Your stomach lurched as you saw the blood pooling around the dead man with a clean, almost surgical, maroon slice straight across his neck, and you wondered just how many times Joel had had to do it, to get such a clean cut. Your eyes snapped back to the door, where Joel was staring at you, his eyes wide and sad, like a puppy, before they hardened. "Let's go." Joel said. "We'll find a house to hide out in."

The universe had decided you could both use a break, and less than two hours after the attack, deep inside the seemingly never-ending woods, the two of you came across an unlocked cabin, the keys just sat on the side table. Joel put his finger up to his lips, and you nodded, following his lead as he crept through the front door. He pointed at you, then at the spot you were standing, and you nodded, doing as you were told while Joel checked it out. Neither of you wanted to take any more chances after today.

"Hey, you might wanna come check this out!" Joel's voice echoed through the cabin, and you closed the front door before heading towards the sound of his voice.

The cabin was rustic and run down, and looked to have been abandoned for a decade at least. It had been a hunter's cabin, judging by the animal heads mounted up on the walls, staring down at you with their black, beady eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. The fireplace was brick, an axe resting against it with piles of wood stacked in front. You turned around and found Joel in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. As you got closer, you heard the familiar sound of a running tap, and you smiled. You'd take any kind of water right now, anything to get rid of this day.

But then you saw it, dancing through the air, rising from the tap. You were convinced you'd imagined it until you saw Joel's fingers rolling together under the water, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that what I think it is?" You asked as you got closer, and Joel nodded. You gingerly held your fingers out, anticipating cold water, not wanting to get your hopes up. But when your fingers hit the warm water, you let out a bewildered laugh, cupping both hands under the water, letting it spill over as it slowly but surely got hotter. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah, well, we deserved a win eventually." Joel replied. You made eye contact, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards slightly, his eyes darting down to your neck before he took a sharp breath and turned away. "You should go have a shower."

"What about you?" You asked, and he sighed.

"Just go. I'll wash up here."

After stripping off your clothes, you looked at your reflection. Only then did you notice the bruising around your neck, and the blood smeared across your cheeks. You could still feel the way the hunter's hands squeezed so tight that you could feel the life draining from your body. You could still feel the panic and terror you felt and the relief when Joel forced the hunter to let go. The look in Joel's eyes when he held your face, the gentle touch as he caressed your cheeks and brushed your hair out of your face. You thought you'd made your peace with dying long ago, but that was until you almost met death, and it made you realise you didn't want to leave Joel. If Joel was in your life, maybe living was worth it.

You were so lost in thought, staring at your scarred body in the mirror, you didn't hear Joel knock on the door. It was only when the door burst open with Joel shouting your name that you turned around, surprised.

Joel kept his eyes on yours, refusing to let himself cave and look down; although it's all he wanted to do. You knew you should grab the towel, or the shower curtain, anything to cover yourself, but you were frozen, like Joel's gaze was keeping you locked on the spot.

Joel cleared his throat and shoved a bundle of clothes into your arms. “Sorry, I-uh, I thought maybe you were- it doesn't matter. I found those, thought you'd want some clean clothes.”

He left, slamming the door behind him, and you exhaled. You ignored the thoughts creeping in and the heat rising up your body and climbed into the bathtub under the running shower; watching the dirt and blood trickle off your body and down the plughole. Once the water ran clean, you stepped out, patting yourself down with the small towel. You then filled up the bathtub with hot water and then threw your underwear and clothes into it. It wouldn't fully clean them, but it'd be enough for now. You picked up the oversized flannel and pulled it over your shoulders, forgoing the jeans that were way too big for you, even with the help of a belt. You sighed and headed back out to Joel.

The fire was burning, the crackling wood echoing through the cabin. Joel was sitting at the wooden table in front of the window, sipping on a glass of wine. There were two plates of pasta on the table, a glass of wine next to one of them. You padded across the room and dropped into the seat opposite Joel, studying his face as he stared out the window. The sky was pink and orange as it set through the trees, the view almost as beautiful as the one sitting next to you; the light of the sunset cascading over Joel. He turned his head to you, and you glanced down at the food. Joel cleared his throat.

"I found some pasta and wine in the cupboards. It only went out of date a few weeks ago." He explained. "It should be okay for us to eat."

"I'm sure it's fine." You replied, "anything's better than beans again, right?" You leaned forward and took the glass of wine, taking a long sip, basking in the way it burned your throat slightly. It had been so long since you'd had even a sip of alcohol, you could swear your head was already fuzzy.

Like most dinners lately, this one was silent. But this was slightly different, considering you were probably the safest you'd been in a long time, and you were eating actual food off actual plates. If you and Joel were in a better place, it would be almost considered domestic. You might even consider staying here, leaving the QZ far behind. But you weren't, Joel could barely bring himself to talk to you — he couldn't even look at you. You really thought you were turning a corner with him until his behaviour changed one morning without warning.

"We should stay here for a couple of days, then head back to the QZ." Joel said. You sighed and finished your glass of wine, but it wasn't enough.

"Great." You replied, looking around for the bottle of wine. "Then you can go back to pretending I don't exist." You weren't sure where the outburst had come from, but you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alcohol running through your blood.

"Pretending you don't- what? I don't do that!" Joel insisted.

You scoffed. "Oh please, you're not as mysterious as you like to think." You said, although there was little truth to it. "You didn't even know my name in the QZ, yet we were around each other for months! I thought we were getting somewhere, but lately, you've been acting like we're strangers!" You told him.

"What?! Okay, maybe I was a little isolated in the QZ, but it's not like that now!" Joel replied, his fork clattering on the plate when it dropped from his hand. "All I do is worry about your survival!"

"Riiiiight, because you care so much." You said, rolling your eyes.

"It's my job to pro-"

"Your job?" You repeated, offended by his words, although you couldn't place why. "Well, allow me to relieve you of your duty." The chair screeched across the floor as you stood up and grabbed your unfinished plate and glass.

Joel inhaled through his nose and groaned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, I mean it. Leave. I didn't need a babysitter before, and I don't need one now!" You said loudly, heading to the kitchen for a reprieve.

Joel growled and slammed his palms on the table as he stood up, refusing your reprieve, following you to the kitchen. "I'm not leaving you to die out here. Which, you would've already if it wasn't for me. You've proven that multiple times!"

"Maybe," you replied, dropping the plate in the sink, staring at Joel, whose eyes darted away. "But I'd rather die alone than with someone who can't even stand to look at me!"

"I can't look at you because you drive me fucking crazy!" Joel exclaimed, his patience finally having worn thin. "Ever since I heard you moaning in that fucking-" He stopped, his eyes wide and on you as he realised what he said; watching his words dawn on you as your face cracked.

Nausea, or quite possibly embarrassment — rose from your stomach up through your oesophagus, and you drank from the glass of wine that was in front of you — which wasn't quite the best course of action as it didn't sit well on your spinning stomach. Joel had heard you masturbating. That's what he was saying, right? There wasn't anything else he could possibly be referencing. But why would it drive him crazy? Joel could be uptight sometimes, but it didn't seem to be in a "women shouldn't pleasure themselves" way.

You blinked a few times, and Joel's face came into focus. He had closed the gap between you both, now only a few feet away. He looked awkward as he shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"You heard me mast -" You stopped, unable to say the word out loud, and you sighed, feeling ridiculous. "You haven't been talking to me for weeks because you heard me -"

Something clicked in your head, like a light had just been switched on. You hadn't just gotten yourself off once. And at some point, you began to fantasise it was Joel's fingers, or mouth, even his cock instead of your own hand. You were aware a couple of times his name had slipped from your lips, and you'd clasped your hand around your mouth afterwards, praying he hadn't heard you.

It was beginning to seem very likely he had heard you, and something in you shifted from embarrassment to…something else, and you arched your eyebrow, finishing off the glass of wine for some extra courage.

"You heard me say your name.” You said, arching your eyebrow. Joel stared before he nodded slowly.

“I heard.” He confirmed, refusing to break eye contact. The air in the kitchen had shifted; it was thick with tension, and Joel wondered where this was going.

You hummed and tilted your head. “What did you do?” You asked, smirking when it was clear it caught Joel off guard.

"What?”

“What did you do, Joel?” You asked, leaning back against the counter. Joel's eyes darted to your bare legs before slowly dragging them up your body, stopping at the three open buttons that exposed your cleavage.

“I thought I heard you crying, so I came to check on you.” He explained. “When I got to your tent, I realised you weren't, and I went back to my tent.” His eyes darted to your face before he closed the gap between you until he was practically on top of you. “I tried to ignore you, but I couldn't help myself.” He lifted your chin with his index and middle fingers, so you were staring at him through your lashes. Your lips parted slightly as your chest rose and fell, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I kept hearing your moans and thinking about you in that tent, and it got me so - I had to -”

His eyes were dark, full of lust, and you instinctively licked your lips slightly. "You- couldn't help yourself, huh?" You asked. Joel arched his eyebrow and tentatively reached his hand up to your cheek. He traced his finger over your cheek gently, and you closed your eyes as you inhaled. "Hearing you moan my name," He said, running a path down your jaw to your neck, "it sounded too good."

You reached up, closing the gap between your lips. Without hesitation, Joel reciprocated the kiss, his hand still around your neck as the other slipped around your hips, resting on the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. His bulge pressed into your crotch and you could feel it getting harder as the kiss deepened. You tugged his brown, leather jacket from his shoulders while Joel started an assault on your neck. If this lasted forever, it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Is this a good idea?" You asked through the gasps as he nipped and sucked at your neck.

"Mhmm, giving me some mixed signals here." he mumbled against your skin before pulling away, his mouth inches from yours. "I think it's a fucking great idea. Don't you?"

“I'm not sure.” You confessed. Joel cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes soft, even if still full of lust. Was this a good idea? He'd spent weeks ignoring you, and it felt like Hell — but the way he kissed you, the way he touched you; it felt like Heaven.

"I don't care if it's a good idea or not." You replied, and Joel grinned.

"Good," he replied, "Because you have no idea how much I need you right now."

"Then show me." You said, and Joel growled before he pressed his lips against yours and instigated another passionate kiss, illicting a moan from you. He picked you up and dropped you onto the counter, spreading your legs so he could step in between them.

The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues clashing together as both sets of hands roamed each other's bodies. Joel's hands cupped and massaged your breasts as yours unbuttoned his jeans, using your heels to push them down his legs. One hand trailed a path from your breast to your stomach, dancing around the place you needed him the most.

"No panties, huh?" He said into your mouth, his finger tracing a path up your slit so gently, it was like he was using a feather. "I never would've known you were such a slut." His finger grazed your clit, and he grinned as you bucked your hips.

"Maybe if you'd acknowledged my existence, you might have found out earlier." You replied, grabbing his bulge through the fabric and squeezed, tight. Joel gasped into your mouth as he thrusted into your hand, and it was your turn to smirk against his mouth. If he could tease you, you could do the same, you thought as you slipped your hand into his boxers, relishing the feeling of his cock in your grasp.

Joel growled, his hips bucking before he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. A yelp mixed with a moan slipped from your mouth as you threw your head back, and Joel groaned. He kept his pace up, pushing his fingers in and out of you, feeling your walls clench around them as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your moans echoing throughout the kitchen. Not even his fantasies could have prepared him for how incredible this felt. If using just his fingers made him — made you feel this good, he couldn't wait to use his cock.

But he would wait. For weeks, you had — albeit unknowingly, driven him to the brink of insanity. Clouded his mind so he couldn't focus on anything; which is why he didn't notice the threat today, which almost cost you your life. So now, he had to drive you insane in the only way he could.

He dropped to his knees and pulled you by your legs so you were hanging off the counter. He then hoisted your legs over his shoulders, and you watched Joel as he studied your cunt — the look in his eyes resembled one of a wild animal, one that was finally allowed out of its cage, to roam free as its right. Yet, he was biting his lip; almost like he was holding onto that last tiny bit of control he had left. But you wanted — no, you needed the wild animal, and so you tangled your fingers into his hair. He looked up at you, locking eyes as he let you guide his head to where you needed him to be.

Shivers ran down your spine as his beard tickled you as he dragged his tongue over the skin on the inside of your thighs. Once again, he touched every piece of you, but not where you needed.

“Joel,” you whined, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you bucked your hips, "Please." You begged.

“Oh baby, you're already so wet.” he tutted, his finger running through your folds and teasing your entrance before he lifted it to your mouth and pushed it between your lips. “Your pretty pussy is glistening for me.”

You tasted a hint of your juices as you wrapped your tongue around his finger, keeping your gaze on him as you did. He groaned, imagining how good your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. He pulled his finger out, and you gasped when he pushed it inside you. When he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, you gasped and arched your back. “Oh shit, fuck, Joel.”

Every sense was heightened as Joel flattened his tongue and lapped at you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he swirled his tongue around your clit. You pushed yourself against him, practically hanging off the counter, making Joel grab your ass with both hands as he buried his face into you. With his beard grazing against you and his tongue pushing you further to release, your thighs gripped his head. Every single part of you was on fire as his assault on your cunt continued, and you could feel your orgasm brewing.

So could Joel, which was apparent as his pace got quicker, bringing in his fingers to help finish the job. With his thumb circling your clit and his tongue deep inside you, you reached your climax, Joel's name spilling from your mouth. As you threw your head back, grinding yourself against his face; you saw stars, all while Joel kept up the relenting pace.

He finally pulled away and stood up, grinning as he leaned towards you. His beard was glistening, and when he kissed you, you could taste yourself on him, mixing with the wine you had with dinner. Joel hooked his arms under your legs and scooped you off the counter; carrying you fireman style out the kitchen, through the sitting room and into the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed. He crawled on top of you and dipped his head to kiss you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, one that you didn't want to end, so when it did, you whimpered, and Joel smiled softly.

“You still wanna do this?” He whispered. “We can stop if you want to.”

You leaned up on your elbows and gave him your answer with a kiss. He pressed his palm on your cheek and deepened the kiss, pushing you back down as he did. The two of you made out like two teenagers, and you could feel Joel's cock hardening against you. You slipped your hand in between your bodies and gripped his cock, rubbing the head against your entrance. Joel groaned, his head falling into your shoulder. He bit down as you pushed his cock inside yourself, your moans harmonising, the sensation almost too much.

Joel took over, grabbed your hands, and pinned them above your head. The animalistic look was in his eyes again, grunting with every thrust, his grip against your wrists tightening. You closed your eyes, and Joel growled.

“You thought about this while fucking yourself.” He said, his voice low. “Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you.”

You opened your eyes and were met by Joel's big, brown ones that were now practically black. He fucked you harder, thrusting in and out as his thumb once again circled your clit. There was a ninety-eight percent chance that someone on the other side of the forest could hear everything, but at this moment neither of you cared. After weeks of awkwardness, of fantasising about each other while you touched yourselves, this felt right, like something had finally clicked into place — and you'd be damned if this was the first and only time it happened. Now you'd had a taste, you couldn't ever go back.

Joel picked up the pace, and you could once again feel your orgasm rising. You pulled Joel closer, your foreheads touching, your vision falling out of focus as you stared into Joel's eyes, but you refused to look away.

“Fuck, Joel, I'm so close” You whimpered, bucking your hips to meet his thrust, his cock hitting deeper each time you moved.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna -” Joel grunted, your synced thrusts getting faster. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned. “I'm gonna, shit -”

“Let go for me, Joel.” You whispered in his ear. “Come for me, and next time, I'll show you what I can do with my mouth.”

It only took a couple more thrusts before you and Joel finished together, and he slumped on top of you, breathing heavily. You lifted his head up, brushed his hair out his face, and smiled up at him, hearts practically in your eyes.

“So…” you said, and he reciprocated the smile. “Sooo…” He repeated.

“Are you going to be all weird with me again?” You teased, and Joel arched his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I don't think so,” Joel replied, dipping his head for another kiss. “Especially if I want this to happen again.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think we're doing this again?” You asked, and Joel grinned.

“Oh we're definitely doing that again.” Joel answered, and you giggled as he rolled off you and reached a blanket that was on a chair next to the bed. He flung it over the two of you before pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips against your temple. “I wanna know what you can do with that mouth.” He mumbled.

You giggled again, your heart fluttering as he linked his fingers around yours and kissed your knuckles. “Keep this up, and you'll find out.” You replied before a yawn slipped out.

“Alright you little tease, I think I can hold out until tomorrow.” Joel chuckled. “Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

You snuggled into Joel's chest, his fingers running through your hair. You never thought you'd be in this position, in bed with Joel Miller. You knew there was a lot more to talk about, but right now, you didn't care. You just focused on Joel's heartbeat under your head, on his fingers in your hair. Focused on how — even though there were still many dangers to staying in this cabin, it was still the safest you'd been in a long time.

The last thing you heard as you drifted into a peaceful sleep was a quiet confession from Joel; one you weren't sure you were actually meant to hear. “I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means giving my life.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #smut writing #my writing*

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luvacookie · 2 months

Text

ur such a smart girl.

armin helps one of his best friends with her physics lectures.

❥ warnings : mildly nerdy ! armin, shitty physics terminology, not proof read, oral (f & m receiving), face fucking, slight degrading, praise, softdom ! armin, sub ! reader, blk fem coded.

❥ cookie for ur thoughts ? : i needed to write smthing for minnie, it woulda been so criminal if i didn't omg

“armin, are you coming?”

he shook his head, eyes not leaving his computer screen. “can’t. promised y/n i’d help her with her studying.”

eren groaned, staring at his bestfriend. “arminnn. can’t you cancel? you’re always with that sophomore.”

“dude, i promised. i’m not going.”

eren sighed. he left his room, closing the door behind him. armin closed his computer screen, rubbing his tired eyes.

his phone began buzzing beside him and he picked it up, smiling at the contact photo of you and him.

“arminnnn! are you still coming over?”

“of course i am princess, in about fifteen minutes. why? are you okay?” he responded, his eyes still closed.

“yes yes, i just wanted to know if you would be down for pizza after? my treat.”

he smiled. “sure, anything you want.”

you grinned, kicking your feet on your bed. “mkayyy, see you soon.”

you hung up, dropping your phone besides you.

“you’re so in love it’s sickening,” annie commented from her desk, picking at her chipped nail polish.

you scoffed. “i am not in love. armin is my best friend is all.”

she rolled her eyes, picking up her bag. “whatever you say. i’m going to reiner’s now, don’t fuck on my bed.”

you ignored her, scrolling through your phone. once you heard the door click shut you jumped out of bed, picking out an outfit.

you settled on some checkered pyjama bottoms and a pink lacy crop top, just in time for armin to knock on your front door.

“hiii,” you greeted him, pulling him in for a hug.

he hugged you back tightly, his arms wrapping around your waist. “you okay?”

you nodded enthusiastically, letting him go and dragging him into your dorm.

“make yourself comfy, i’m gonna go grab my stuff,” you told him, leaving him to re-familiarise himself with your accommodation.

he wandered aimlessly, picking up little trinkets he hadn't noticed before that you and annie had placed around the living room. he had been taking a photo of baby you and your family when you walked back in the room, books in arm.

"mkay, i'm ready, where do you wanna start?" you asked, making yourself comfy at your small dining room table.

he sat beside you, flipping through your pretty physics notes. "how about here?" he pointed to the notes you made last lecture.

you nodded enthusiastically, pulling out your laptop. you typed in your password and armin's heart could have burst at seeing you and him on your home screen.

"i remember this day," he said, smiling at the photo of the two of you.

you pulled your screen towards you, hiding it from him. “aha, yeah…”

armin watched you shuffle in your seat, typing in your needed web page before turning the screen the right way.

you settled, flipping to a clean page in your notebook. “mkay, so i don’t get these points…”

hours passed as you tried to force physics into your head, desperate to drag your average up.

armin watched as you became became frustrated, sighing and pouting how you do when your annoyed.

“ ‘min i just can’t remember, i don’t wanna waste your time. accept that i’m just bad,” you sighed, burying your head on the countless flash cards on your desk.

“i don’t think your bad, in fact i think you’re quite smart, just distracted,” he hummed, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“no. i’m just bad,” you giggled sadly, rubbing your eyes.

“do you trust me?” he asked, disregarding your statement.

“yeah, of course,” you responded instantly. you did trust him, with your life practically.

he stood up from the table, grabbing you by the hand.

“where are we going?” you asked, letting him lead you to wherever.

he pushed your bedroom door open, locking it behind you. your heart jumped slightly in your throat, wondering what it was that armin had in mind.

"still trust me?" he asked, his eyes trailing over your body.

you nodded meekly, moving back to sit on your soft bed covers.

"i'm gonna help you focus, my way," he mumbled, stalking towards you.

a slight shiver erupted over your body, the way his blue eyes stared at you did criminal things to your state of mind.

"what is your way?"

he sank down in front of you, settling on his knees. your heart was seriously on the verge of spitting itself up, the view of armin on his knees in front of you felt religious.

his hands played with the waist band of your pyjamas, tugging them down agonizingly slow, leaving you in your plain white thong.

his hands rested on your knees gently, slowly prying them apart, which you let happen with no resistance, something that pleased him.

he slowly kissed his way up your plush thighs, nipping every so often, making you release little whimpers. music to his ears.

just as he reached the damp spot on your panties he looked up at you, his eyes inspecting your face. you whined, squeezing your thighs together lightly to get him to keep going.

"what's the equation to hooke's law?" he asked innocently, scraping his blunt nails up and down your inner thigh.

you blinked, confused. he hummed and placed a light kiss to your clit through your panties, making you whine out for him.

"tell me then."

you fumbled over your words, you knew the answer to this but it was hard to think of much when a god-sent angel was on the verge of making you cum.

"s-spring constant times the stretch," you whined, reaching your hand out to comb through his hair.

he placed a kiss on your thigh and then your clit, moving his hands to your ass to pull you in closer. he moved his hands to your panties, pulling them down to leave your pussy bare for him.

you whined at the feeling of his breath tickling you, a contrast to your normally cold room. he rubbed slow circles on your clit, making you moan lowly.

"equation for resistance," he mumbled, looking at your face.

"f-fuck armin i-" you whined out.

he pulled away from you, making you pout and breathe heavily.

"don't give me that face princess. the more you get right the quicker you get to cum," he mocks, tracing light shapes on your inner thigh.

you sighed, annoyed. "i don't know armin! please! i promise i'll be a good girl for you—"

he shook his head, giving you a small smirk. "goddamn it. i can't say no to you when you beg like that."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he continues his assault on your clit, switching between sucking and licking. he enters his middle finger gently, fucking you with it softly, the contradiction making your brain hurt.

you lie down on the bed, the stimulation throwing you off guard. "fuck min- i'm gonna-"

he shushes you, his mouth unwavering, the vibrations making the coil in your belly unwind faster. he moves his finger inside you quicker, feeling you squeeze him tighter.

"mm- shit- cumming-!" you moan, the pleasure washing over you.

that didn't stop armin from devouring you, he wasn't done with you just yet.

he only began to let up when your thighs threatened to crush his head, not that he would have complained if they did. he left small, wet kisses as he trailed along back to your mouth, kissing you feverishly.

you could taste yourself on his tongue, enjoying the freak nature that armin was displaying with you. he pulled away from you slowly, a clear string of spit following him as he studied you with low eyes.

“gonna be a good girl f’me ? like you promised baby ?” he asked, reaching for your hand. he carefully moved you to the floor, placing you on your knees in front of him.

you nodded eagerly, willing to go to the edge of the earth for this man to give you another orgasm. “i will, min.”

he smirked at you, moving your hand towards the tent that had grown in his sweats. you started working as if you were on autopilot, palming him roughly and drawing out low groans from the back of his throat.

“can i pull these down please ?” you said, breaking armin’s momentary bliss.

“of course you can baby,” he responded, watching your perfectly polished acrylic nails break past the waist band of his sweats and boxers in one go.

you pulled them down slowly, letting his dick snap up and slap against the lower part of his stomach. you had been staring for too long as armin tapped your pink lips with his tip.

“open up baby,” he mumbled, watching your jaw widen to fit him in comfortably.

you let the saliva build in your mouth before you started bobbing up and down slowly, swirling your tongue over the tip. armin let out low whimpers, grabbing your hair and turning it into a makeshift ponytail.

you began to pick up the pace, balancing by placing one of your hands his thighs and using the other to rub the length that couldn’t fit inside your mouth.

“fuuuuck baby girl… just like that, use that tongue of yours hm,” he encouraged, lightly pushing your head further down his length.

the intrusion of his dick grazed the back of your throat, making it constrict and you gag and causing him to let out a particularly loud moan. spit began pooling out of your mouth and travelling down him and your face. you eventually tapped out, coming up for the air your lungs were lacking.

you inhaled deeply, your head resting on his thigh. “couldn’t breathe—”

armin pet your head softly, “did such a good job baby girl. can you finish it for me ?”

your breathing became less erratic so you nodded, desperate to do well for him. you took his length in your hand and moved up and down, squeezing as you reached the tip.

more strings of whimpers and moans escaped armin’s lips, his hand having a strong grip on the side of your hair as a way to relieve the pressure building up inside of him.

you kitten licked the tip and placed light kisses on it, causing his dick to twitch. when your breathing finally relaxed, you allowed his length to hit the back of your throat, causing armin to loose his mind.

he grabbed the back of your head and began abusing your mouth, using you however he liked.

“such a pretty fucking mouth huh? shame it belongs to such a slut, letting me fuck your face like this?” his voice came out hoarse, his hips beginning to stutter and slow.

you moaned at the roughness of his movements, the vibration and constriction being his final straw. without warning, his cum shot down your throat, forcing you to swallow it all.

“s-shit— are you okay baby ?” his normally soft demeanour returned, pulling his cock out your mouth and pulling you off the floor.

you nodded and opened your mouth to show armin that is cum was gone.

“swallowed all of it!” your voice came out rougher than usual.

he kissed your mouth gently, stroking the back of your head as he did.

“well done baby, i’m so proud of you,” he mumbled, pulling you in for a hug.

you welcomed his embrace, sinking into his body.

“get you all cleaned up then order that pizza ? we can be done with physics for today,” he said into the top of your head, the sound reverberating through your body.

“yes please,” you responded softly.

armin chuckled at you in a teasing manner. he was stuck with you for a very long time.

#💌: alexies letters.#aot #aot x reader #aot smut #black y/n #x reader #armin aot #armin x reader #smut #connie x reader #black y/n x reader

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f1daydreamers · 2 months

Text

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 [𝐋𝐍𝟒] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

gif credits: @eightyones

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Summary: To say you weren't the biggest fan of Lando Norris was an understatement, but you also happened to underestimate just how willing the man was to prove to you that he'd changed.

Warnings: just very strong feelings (not good ones lol), Reader’s a little angry in this one so yeah, remember that this is all fiction and not telling of the actual person!

A/N: I hope I can stay consistent with posting but writer’s block is the truest thing ever so pray for me everybody (for your own sakes tbf lmao, ik whoever read the Lance series was defo not happy with my oh so consistent updates)

Here’s Part 1 if you missed it :)

Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading time avg)

…

"What're you wearing?" Allegra popped her head into your bedroom, to see if you'd gotten changed but you hadn't, still blankly staring at your dresser.

"Uh, don't know." You breathed out, you'd spent a good half an hour trying to rid these damning thoughts about having to go to Woking tonight. Though that wasn't necessarily the problem; he was.

It didn't go unnoticed how your heart would beat a little faster when you remembered he still existed, your hands would instinctively clench into fists, your body simmering with unresolved rage.

A simple and menial task had a shadow cast over it. You hated that.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Allegra commented, strolling past you and spreading a variety of outfits on your bed.

"Nope, just buzzing with excitement." You murmured out a feeble response, grabbing whatever seemed the cleanest from your drawer and tossing it onto the desk chair in the corner.

Turning, you found Allegra holding up two mini-dresses and arched an eyebrow at her.

"Ally, it's January." She paused for a moment before casually throwing them behind her onto the bed and picking up a pair of light blue washed-out jeans with a white crop top.

"That's better." You smiled.

"Can't believe we have to wear the ugly-ass Google jacket." She grumbled as she shoved the rest of her clothes back into her bag, and you chuckled.

"Yes, believe it or not, we are going there to work." You reminded yourself more than her; it wasn't a social event, just networking and taking photos for the social media team. Not exactly difficult.

You made a mental note to ask James when he was leaving so you knew when to be ready by.

"I know! Still, I want to look good while I'm working." Allegra countered and you hummed in response, it wasn't the most appealing article of clothing but there was no way around it either.

"I hope we get to meet the drivers. Ugh, I'm totally living out a dream right now!" Allegra chirped.

The prospect crossed your mind, and you froze, envisioning how the encounter might unfold if he recognised you. Would he be surprised? Or would he avert his eyes in shame?

Maybe you'd throw a drink in his face before he could react. You exhaled; no, you couldn't do that. Nick would probably chop my head off, you thought. Throughout the past week, he had incessantly emphasised the importance of making a lasting impression. Smile, be helpful, talk to everybody. The mantra seemed to have etched itself permanently into your brain.

"Doesn't matter," you muttered. You'll have Allegra, James, there'll probably be hundreds of people tonight; you won't see him.

There's no way.

...

"Who are these lovely ladies?" You grinned as you and Allegra neared James, casually leaning against his BMW – our ride there.

"Ladies who kicked your ass at stats last week." His smile faltered into a thin line as he turned to you for help, but you raised your hands in mock surrender.

"30K each, baby!" You chuckled, Allegra facing you, raising her hand for a high-five that you gladly met.

"Alright, alright, don't forget this ride is free." James opened the passenger door as you climbed in first, your friend following suit.

He jogged over to the driver's side, slipping into his seat.

"And we love you for it." You teased, and he only rolled his eyes, tugging on his seatbelt and clicking it into place.

The hour and a half ride to Woking was filled with mindless chatter and jokes, while it served as a sufficient distraction for some time, your mind began shifting elsewhere.

The night ahead brought a mix of anxiety and an underlying sense of dread.

You were replaying your conversations from long ago, you remembered every evening you'd come home and complain to your mother how him and his friends were the most intolerable assholes on the face of this planet.

Growing up, you'd met a lot more of those but learned to handle them better.

Being a teenager meant your parents only waved it off, giving advice that you knew would never work - telling the teacher, standing up to them, ignoring them completely.

No matter how much you defended your friends, their teasing was endless.

Perhaps you inherited your 'forgive but never forget' attitude from a grandparent considering your parents aren't the type to hold a grudge until the end of time.

You shifted in your seat, attempting to shake off the apprehension that settled in your chest. Each passing mile brought you closer to Woking and the event that would unfold there. A lump formed in your throat, and your palms felt a bit clammy.

As you rubbed them on your jeans, James calling your name pulled you out of your trance-like state. "What's with the sour face?"

"Wishing I was in bed right now." That wasn't technically a lie, you'd always in any situation rather be in your bed.

He laughed, taking his eyes off of the rearview mirror to turn right before speaking again, "hopefully this shit doesn't last too long." You were sure it was for different reasons but you agreed wordlessly, Allegra scoffed.

"You guys are boring, this is a Formula 1 team! Come on, where is the energy in here?"

If you looked past the reasons why you thought tonight was a complete recipe for disaster, you understood her excitement, hell, maybe you were even a little excited yourself.

"It's going to be amazing," you smiled, squeezing Allegra's hand.

James nodded, "just as fun as losing to you two loonies at stats."

...

Together, you all passed through the entrance of the MTC after the security personnel checked your passes.

The sleek backdrop was instantly punctuated by the papaya-coloured uniforms that caught your eye. Inside, a crowd of employees, journalists, and photographers were engrossed in their respective responsibilities. The main area buzzed with chatter and laughter. The illuminated Google and McLaren logos adorned the wall side by side. The sheer vastness of the centre initially overwhelmed not only you but also James and Allegra on either side, their silence telling. "Woah," Allegra eventually breathed out, and you subtly nodded in agreement, acknowledging her reaction. Rope barriers enclosed the Formula 1 cars in the central area, creating a grand yet slightly intimidating exhibit. "I'm so ready to work," you chuckled, recognising Allegra's sarcasm as her eyes sparkled with a playful glint. Both of you knew that 'work' was code for mingling. She slipped away swiftly, leaving you briefly alone.

You turned to face James who, ever the social butterfly, beamed with enthusiasm.

You consciously wrapped your hand around his upper arm, a silent cue he readily understood. It's not that you didn't do well in social situations, you just didn't do well alone in social situations.

He knew that.

You allowed him to navigate you both through the crowds of people, engaging in light conversation and making necessary introductions along the way.

However, your nerves bubbled beneath the surface. Constantly glancing around, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, your eyes scanning the room constantly.

As the hour passed, both you and James, occasionally bumping into Allegra who was way too excited to stay in one spot for too long, continued navigating the sea of people while keeping a watchful eye for a familiar face you hoped not to encounter.

But eventually, you did. Right there, in the midst of the crowd. You couldn't be entirely sure it was him though the resemblance was nothing short of uncanny.

He looked different, changed somehow. He adorned facial hair now, quite a bit of it too, he was clad in white trainers, black sweatpants, and a McLaren hoodie.

A clear departure from the person you remembered.

As your gaze lingered on him, you became sure when a wide smile grew on his face. It was a smile that you knew all too well, one that sent a jolt of recognition through you.

His figure had grown, perhaps he was an inch or two taller but you couldn't be sure.

You didn't spend any minute with him judging his height, you spent those minutes despising him, hating him, cursing his name and his rich, arrogant ass.

A moment of panic washed over you, and instinctively, you moved away as swiftly as you could, hoping to avoid catching his attention.

A tumultuous wave of emotions crashed through you, each feeling more intense than the last as you swerved through bodies to get to the farthest point away from him.

Torment churned within, a relentless reminder of past wounds that seemed to have resurfaced. Anger flared up, fuelled by memories of his past actions that had left scars on your heart.

A weight of sadness settled in your chest, the realisation that the wounds he caused still had enough power to reopen.

A conflicting turmoil seized your thoughts. On one hand, an impulsive urge to confront and release pent-up frustration surged. Simultaneously, another part of you longed to escape, wishing to erase this night from memory as quickly as possible.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you hastily poured a cup of water, downing it in a single gulp before effortlessly tossing it into the bin.

The thought of texting James or finding Allegra crossed your mind, but the lack of energy left you rooted in place, unable to summon the will to move.

You attempted to swallow, hoping to dispel the lump in your throat, and were startled when you felt a vibration from your phone. Glancing at the screen, you noticed it was a message from Nick.

Check in with me soon. Want to see how you’re getting on

Your thumbs hesitated over the keyboard, your mind devoid of any thoughts except those consumed by the current predicament. The panic in your chest felt like it could explode at any moment.

You locked your phone, shoving it into your pocket, taking several deep breaths but not before you were interrupted.

"You alright, darlin’?” Your breath hitched in its throat. Now there was zero denying if it was or wasn't him. Nobody else has ever called you that.

Anger quickly consumed you.

"Still a prick, I take it?" Your jaw ticked as you responded through gritted teeth. You hated that nickname.

Ignoring your remark, he nonchalantly picks up a cup, pouring its contents without a care. "What brings an old friend here?"

"Is that what we are? Is that what we ever were?" You ask, reminiscent of the unpleasant past. You finally look up to meet him, his eyes narrow as if he’s scrutinising you, but he’s not.

He’s merely staring.

"You didn't come all this way to start on me now, did ya?" The flatness in his voice evident.

"You certainly make it easy." You retort.

He smirked, "you’re certainly just as charming."

You roll your eyes, deciding he wasn't worth the time you were losing when you could instead be working or being around people you actually tolerated.

But before you can, he unexpectedly grabs your hand, his grip a lot stronger than what you remember. You tightened your lips, holding back any remark that might draw unwanted attention.

"Why are you acting like that, darlin’?" His question came in a near-whisper, laced with a hint of.. disappointment?

"Like what?" You murmured, meeting his gaze.

His eyes wander, trying to pinpoint the look in yours, "like you hate me."

Observing his face for a moment, you chuckle bitterly. Your phone was buzzing continuously, it must be Nick, you thought.

"Because I do, asshole." With that, you yanked your hand away, turning to leave as you grabbed your phone out of your jacket pocket to pick up Nick’s call.

...

Part 3

Masterlist

Taglist: @landosgirlxoxo @sltwins @dutifullyannoyingfox @moonayu @mrsmaybank13 @queenofmanydreams @chonkybonky @urmotheris @ananyasr1bughead @alliwantisadonut @daisysnhl @writingworlds @leclercsluv @tylerstacobell @booksandflowrs @kissesandmartinis @starssfall

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flowerprincesscherryblossom · 1 year

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your innocence is mine

pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader word count: 1444 warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, unexperienced & virgin reader, virginity kink AO3 A/N: request - Hello! I love your work, could I ask you a request about Jungkook strong/intimidating aura but soft towards the reader who is shy, inexperienced and shy?🥺it turns him on but at the same time he feel protective towards her innocence. I would love to read a smut interactions between this two 🥺✨ Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

Everyone in town had either met or heard of Jeon Jungkook at some point in their lives.

His reputation was one that was followed by whispers, one could never speak too loud, you'd never know who might be listening and one can never be too cautious.

He wasn't as bad as the dreaded Min Yoongi, whose name one was actually forbidden to speak if they what was good for them, but it was still wise to not mess with either of them.

But, much like the saying goes, every man has his weakness. His was you.

In everyone's eyes, you were just the quiet girl who kept to herself and never missed Sunday's sermon.

But to Jungkook you were the light at the end of the tunnel, the one capable of silencing his thoughts and worries by simply smiling at him.

Oh that smile of yours, the things it would do to him.

The two of you had met on a summer afternoon, Jungkook was walking around town after finishing his day job when he first saw you walking out of a candy store. It had been love at first sight. He stroke up a conversation immediately, going as far as walking you home without even noticing.

Ever since then the days had been filled with spending time together, from pleasant conversations about everything and nothing, to just enjoying each other's company, especially when he would show up unannounced at your doorstep.

So much so that Jungkook ended up losing his job, not that he cared much about it since he would had it to keep himself entertained until nighttime came around.

What astonished him the most however, was that, you knew of everything he had done - the good, the bad, and the ugly - and yet, you weren't afraid of him like everyone else. In fact, you actively encouraged him to tell you everything, your backyard was the confession booth, you were the priest, and he was the penitent.

Your parents didn't approve, that wasn't surprising, but while your mother was too afraid of him to ever say anything, your father had not. Many were the times Jungkook had been kicked out of the house, but the young man would always come back, all for you. It was your innocence that kept drawing him back to you.

Despite listening to his every word, you could never hide the shock, and sometimes even excitement, in your eyes. It was almost like you lived in a sheltered world of your own.

The first time you had kissed, the touch of lips couldn't have lasted a minute, slow and sweet, but the reaction you had afterward - wide eyes in shock, biting your bottom lip trying to hide your smile, hiding your face in your hands so that he couldn't see it - all of it had stirred something in him, something he hadn't felt before.

Your innocence made things hard for him, both figuratively and literally, every day afterward he was haunted by never-ending thoughts of making you such a slut for him that no other man could ever compare. It would be the death of him.

But not for long.

Your parents had to leave on a business trip for the weekend and, despite objecting, they knew that you'd be safe with Jungkook by your side. If only they knew what he was thinking about doing to their precious daughter, they would've taken you with them in a heartbeat.

Jungkook was in your house as soon as your parents had left, knocking on your door not even five minutes later. You were surprised to see him but invited him in anyway, both of you taking a seat on the couch.

It wasn't long before your idea of watching tv and spending time together turned into something else.

It started with Jungkook softly spreading pecks from your shoulder to your neck before biting the flesh, due to the unexpected pain you turned to face him, only to have Jungkook crash your lips together.

The kiss started out slow but it got bolder once you felt his hand starting to rise up, going from your knee to the inside of your thighs.

"W-wait, wait," your hands found purchase on his chest as you pushed him slightly off of you. "J-jungkook wait."

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" the way you avoided looking at him said more than words could ever. "Do you want me to stop?" you shook your head, eyes remaining on the floor. "Then what's wrong baby?"

"It's just that -" you finally looked at him, feeling yourself blush once again. "I-I don't, I don't know what I'm doing."

Jungkook let out a groan at your confession, suddenly feeling like his jeans had become tighter.

Unfortunately, that seemed to have the opposite effect on you as you curled up, hugging your legs close to your chest, and avoided looking at him.

Muttering curses to himself, Jungkook quickly composed himself before talking. "It's okay baby," he spoke in a soft tone, taking hold of your chin so you would face him. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

He let go of you and stood up to take care of his problem in the bathroom, but before he could even take a step Jungkook felt your hand grab his. He turned to face you but you still refused to do the same.

"I-I don't want you to stop," your hand gripped his tightly. "I-I'm just nervous."

He crouched down until he was at eye level with you, took your chin in his fingers, and forced you to look at him. "It's okay baby, we can stop whenever you want," he ran his fingers through your hair. "The important thing is that you're comfortable."

You nodded before speaking in a soft voice. "Okay, I trust you,"

As carefully as he could, Jungkook made you lay down on the couch, climbing on top of you just as carefully. "Remember," he said, spreading kisses down your neck. "If you ever want to stop-"

"I-I'll tell you," you interrupted, leaning your head against the arm of the couch and giving him better access to your neck.

As Jungkook spread bite marks on your neck and collarbones, his left hand groped your breast for a while before slowly descending down your body until it reached the hem of your skirt, which he pulled up. Your panties were pure white, a fitting color he thought to himself.

He kept on you as his fingers started rubbing you through your underwear, your soft quiet moans were music to his ears.

While looking at your face, Jungkook decided that he would take your first time while fully clothed, not wanting to overwhelm you too much. He would have the rest of the weekend to make you comfortable enough with him.

He pushed your panties to the side, rubbing your wetness around your slit before inserting a finger inside, making you gasp at the foreign feeling.

"How does it feel baby?" he thrusted into you slowly, wanting you to get used to the feeling. "You good?"

"I-It's d-different," you moaned out. "B-but g-good."

He gave you one of his bunny smiles. "I'm gonna put a second finger in, okay?"

You nodded and let out a loud moan when he inserted a second finger in you, switching between curling his fingers and thrusting into you.

"J-jungkook," you kept moaning his name like a mantra.

Your walls clenching around his fingers, telling him that you were close, making him speed up his thrusts, becoming rougher and faster.

With one last loud moan of his name, you broke apart for him, releasing all over his hand as your legs started to feel like jello.

Jungkook pulled his fingers slowly from you, making you whimper at the sudden feeling. He kept his eyes on your breathless figure as he sucked your juices from his fingers.

Afterward, he left to pick up a towel to clean you up, and as he did he noticed your confused look, of which he reached to leave a kiss on your forehead. "You did good baby,"

"I-Is that all?" you asked softly.

"It's enough for now," he gave you another peck. "We'll take baby steps until you feel comfortable," he ran his fingers through your hair once more. "I'll wait for as long as I have until you fully give yourself to me, no matter how long."

You whined and reached to kiss his lips and then wrapped your arms around him, feeling loved by the one everyone seemed to fear.

You knew you'd be alright with Jungkook by your side, come rain or shine.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic

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citrustan · 5 months

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slipping through my fingers [1] (myg)

title: will i ever see you again?

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: yoongi usually has an explanation for everything. why can't he talk you through this? warnings: [it is important that you read the prologue before this]

It takes you a good five minutes to gather yourself. Yoongi doesn't dare to disturb you.

Still leaned against the wall, you take a few steady breaths.

You don't know why but you don't cry.

The news of him dating another person is enough for you to have an intense breakdown, let alone marrying someone.

This will forever serve as a reminder that you weren't enough for Yoongi.

You kind of just want to go straight to bed. Pretend this never happened. Just deal with it later.

After your break-up, a big part of you always thought you'd end up getting back together. And that no matter how long it takes, Yoongi would be your endgame. He was it for you.

Over the past year, your contact with Yoongi had reduced. He was always busy when you called. Always working.

But now that you think about it, it was you who assumed that he was working. He never claimed he was.

For all you know, he could've been dating.

Pfft. 'Could have.'

He most definitely was.

And he didn't tell you. Not even your friends told you about it.

You don't know what's worse.

You're pushing yourself away from going into a dark place. Where you begin to wonder.

The only question that refuses to budge is: What does she have that you don't?

In all honesty, you wish he never told you. You don't want to know what type of a person his future wife is. You do not want to know if they'd have children together. You do not care if they buy a house together, or if they already have one. You don't want to know.

And you don't want to think about what it'd do to Nao.

When you begin to truly register the possible consequences of Yoongi's marriage, you feel anger. It spreads through your veins in a millisecond.

Had Nao already met this woman? You doubt that because she never told you about it.

Would it be confusing for her to understand what's going on?

Is that woman going to be parenting your child too? You violently shook your head. You won't allow that.

You are her only mother.

The pressure in your chest only deepens the more you think about this.

Yoongi has stolen your peace.

How are you to move on from this? And you hadn't even confronted half of the thoughts you're having. The anger never subsides.

He's going to send you right back to therapy.

"_____?" Yoongi comes looking for you.

You cannot afford to lose your composure in front of him. You don't want to give him more reasons to be grateful for your break-up.

You had to step away for just a bit longer, "I'll be right back."

You were about to turn and hide in your room when you feel Yoongi yanking your arm back.

With a surprised yelp, you pull it back just as forceful.

"Talk to me." Yoongi pleaded with his eyes.

No.

"I...-" You trail off. The words were caught in your throat. I don't want to see you again, ever.

This was such a disaster.

How does one move on from this?

"_____. I'm sorry." He tried again.

Yoongi had it all planned. He was going to sit you down and ease it in on you.

Instead, he chickened out and ended up dropping a bomb on you out of nowhere.

He's usually the more composed one out of the two of you, and he screwed it up.

You sigh, "I don't know why you're apologizing."

After a moment, you swiftly walk away from Yoongi and peek into the living room.

Nao's attention is still on the movie.

"Has she met Nao?"

Yoongi shook his head profusely, "I wanted your permission first."

At this you're confused.

Unable to separate your emotions, you sarcastically laugh. "My permission to let your daughter meet her father's future wife?"

It's like a bell ringing in your mind. Your laugh transitions into a bit of a manic one, "What if I told you no? What happens then?"

Yoongi kept his calm, "Then she won't meet her now." You scoff.

Immediately, you give in, having no interest in continuing this conversation. "Then do whatever you want. She's your daughter too. I can't make decisions for you."

You start to walk away from him when he stops you, "_____. Let's just... talk."

“I don’t want to.” You sternly announce.

This would be a lot easier to handle this if he just got mad at you. It’d be easy to hate him if he were being unreasonable. In all honesty, even then you’d probably never be able to truly hate him.

“_____, I’m sorry,” Yoongi softly brings your attention to him. His eyes were directed towards your feet.

It doesn’t phase you. His blanket apology for whatever happened doesn’t make up for anything.

You want to ask him what he was apologising for. But you don’t really want to go there. Not in front of Nao.

You cannot subject her to this instability anymore than you already have.

“Ask your daughter if she wants to meet your wife,” you spat, “Not me.”

Yoongi knew you were angry. He also knew exactly why. Still, he can’t bring himself to talk you through it. It’s too soon. He needs to let it simmer.

As much as you don’t want him to think (know) that you’re just bitter for very obvious reasons, that ship has already sailed.

You don’t think you can do a whole lot to salvage it. Might as well ride it out for now.

With the risk of sounding pathetic, you turn your body towards him. “How come you’re marrying someone else?”

Yoongi’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he sighs deeply.

“_____...” He coos, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

There's a pause, a moment where the air seems heavy.

The noises from the TV sound muffled. Time slows down for you to hold yourself together.

“I don’t want you to ever doubt yourself, _____.”

That’s not under his control. Hell, you yourself can’t help it.

“I don’t,” you lie.

“I want you to know that it wasn’t an easy decision. I just… She broke me. I don’t know how but I changed.”

…

That’s what you get for respecting his boundaries.

This is a slap in your face. He better not be saying what you think he is.

“She convinced you?” You question him pointedly.

So, you could’ve ‘broken’ him too? So much for not being an overzealous girlfriend slash baby mother.

“No! I just changed my mind about-“

You wouldn’t let him finish, “No.”

“No?” Yoongi was starting to get a little agitated.

“I… don’t want to know.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Let’s talk tomorrow,” Yoongi agreed.

The two of you take a little break from the almost heated conversation you just had.

“I’ll finish up in the kitchen. Are Mimi’s bags packed?”

“Yeah, just need to get her toothbrush after she’s done.”

Your ex-boyfriend’s nickname for your daughter was Mimi, and you preferred Nao. Nao prefers Nao too but she’d never break her daddy’s heart like that.

He gives your arm a subtle squeeze as he moves past you to get back to the kitchen.

You head to Nao’s room to get her bag as she excitedly follows you in.

Turning to her, you tilt your head towards her, “Did you turn the TV off?”

“Yes! And I unplugged the wire.”

“Good girl.” You give her a genuine smile.

You don’t know what your future is going to look like with Yoongi’s wife in the picture. What if Nao doesn’t like her? What if she doesn’t like Nao?

Your heart drops at the thought of them having a kid. What if she pushes Yoongi to leave you and Nao?

No, he’d never. You’ve got to give him more credit than that.

Wait.

Is she pregnant? Is that why he wants to marry her?

You were pregnant too.

You already know you’re going to kick Taehyung’s ass for not warning you about this new woman in Yoongi’s life.

“MOMMY.” Nao’s scream brings you back.

“I’m sorry! Mama’s here. W-” - “Daddy’s calling.”

Okay. Deep breaths.

“Go on ahead, I’ll bring you your bag.” You then instruct her to brush her teeth at her dad’s.

Nao hugs your waist, burying her head into your side. It tickles a little.

Then, she runs off to find her father.

Soon, you follow her and drop her bag by the door.

Yoongi reappears from the kitchen, drying his hands with a paper towel. He stops in front of you and waits as Nao jams her feet into her pink Crocs.

Seemingly in deep thought, you stand by them. You don’t want to end tonight on a weird note. Even though you’re hurting, you can’t let him see it. For so long, you just assumed you’d find your way back to each other even though you never actively put effort into it.

Now, it seems downright outlandish.

Your next moves are not to save face but an attempt to actually move forward.

“Yoongi!” You call out to him as if he were miles away.

A little startled, he raises a brow at you in question.

“You should introduce them.” You nod, mostly to yourself.

At this, his expression changes. It’s softer and… almost aching.

“And congrats.” You added shyly. “You deserve to be happy.”

Your vision began to blur.

NOOOOOOOOOO. Not now. Please. PLEASE.

You gulp and smile. Yoongi knows the smile. He begins to extend his arms, inching towards you, as if he were about to embrace you.

“Mommy.” Nao winks, blows you a kiss, and runs out of the apartment, breaking whatever moment the two of you just had. You scrunch your brows at the now-empty doorway.

Yoongi scoffs in amazement.

“You should go,” you urge him out of the door, not allowing him to respond to you. “Now. Bye.”

Yoongi simply allows you to push him out, still a little stunned by the two of you.

“Make sure she does her math homework!” You get the last word in as you slam the door in his face.

Had your daughter not distracted you, you don’t know what you’d have done.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ underwater by red velvet ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: these song recommendations go great w the story!! u should give it a listen :*

thank u for all the love and attention you've given to this little project 😍

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nataliasquote · 19 days

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Is It All For Nothing? | n romanoff

Summary: You just want a friend. Is that so bad? How is it fair that everyone else gets one but you. What did you do that was so wrong?

Warnings: idk. just depressing stuff ig

Pairings: none. a small bit of Nat x reader but all platonic

wc: 1.3k

notes: I wrote this in 45 mins in one sitting. It’s written in a different pov than usual and idk if it even makes sense. I just typed and didn’t stop until I was done 🤷‍♀️ the idea just came to me and yeah :)

-⧗-

Frankly, being on the sidelines sucked. Everyone knew it yet no matter how many times someone engaged in small talk to be polite or proclaimed they were there to talk to everyone, somehow you were always left out.

It didn’t matter where you were, loneliness followed like a dormant disease. High school sucked, you were a nobody, but thankfully those years were in the past. But your fifteen year old self didn’t realise that your isolation would carry right on over into your adult life.

And sure, it wasn’t all bad. The nights spent chatting with new friends you’d made that day left you on an all time high, but that just made the fall that much harder. And when the low inevitably came, you could only laugh at yourself at your naivety, because why would things suddenly change? You weren’t someone people stuck around for.

Unfortunately, Shield agents were no different. Those in your cohort were nice enough to say hi in the hallway or invite you into group conversations. A couple even chatted with you over lunch. But you knew they only did it because they felt bad. You saw the difference in their demeanor; you were a spy for god’s sake. They were so much happier with their friends, and that didn’t include you, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself it did.

There was one agent who’s attention toyed with you that little bit more. Natasha Romanoff was a couple of ranks higher, both in social and training status. But she was always kind, no matter what. You conversed whilst waiting for your training session, mainly her listening as you talked. She was sweet, despite her intimidating facade and before long she had you completely wrapped around your little finger.

For a month, you both chatted any chance you got. If you saw her in the cafeteria, you’d make a beeline for her table, smiling at the other agents as you sat down. She responded to you, her eyes holding yours as you spoke, seeming actually interested in what you had to say. She would joke with you, calling you out with a laugh which sent a flush to your cheeks. You didn’t care what she said, she was talking to you. That’s all that mattered. Maybe this was where your life changed for the better. Evenings that followed those days would be blissful and you would fall asleep with a smile on your face, feeling on top of the world all because of the redheaded Russian.

However, as the weeks went on, days would go by with no contact. At first you just thought she was going on more missions; that was her job after all. But then you’d see that flash of red hair in a meeting room or one of the agents talking about something Natasha had said earlier and it hit you sharply in the throat.

Was she just like everyone else? Playing the pity card, building you up only to leave you hanging once she got bored? Natasha didn’t seem like that kind of person, but had essentially placed her on a pedestal, so of course she could do no wrong. That was your downfall.

Emerging from a debrief with Maria Hill, you tucked a stack of files under your arm and stepped out into the hallway. And there she was, a soft smile on her lips. You reciprocated it and made eye contact, opening your mouth to speak. You hadn't spoken in a few days and you hated to admit it, but you missed her.

But Natasha clearly didn’t feel the same. Her eyes caught yours and then darted to the floor, her feet picking up the pace as she walked past. “I’m sorry Y/n, I’m busy today. We’ll talk later.”

Except she wasn’t busy. Because there she was, standing at the end of the hall laughing with another agent in your cohort. It shouldn’t have been, but it was like a punch to the stomach and you quickly turned around, retreating back into the room you’d left to avoid her seeing you watching her.

You knew that agent. They were friends, everyone saw it. And she was nice enough to you too, but jealousy coursed through your veins and turned you into a green eyed monster.

What did she have that you didn’t? Besides the ability to win Natasha over, obviously. Every single interaction you’d had with the redhead suddenly started replaying in your mind, frantically scanning to see what went wrong. Did you overstep? Were you too pushy? Too clingy? You just wanted a friend, was that so hard to understand? Was it so bad to want?

You thought about texting her, but decided against it. You didn’t want to know the answer. What if your worst fears were confirmed? That she only spoke to you out of pity, and quite frankly didn’t want anything to do with you.

It hurt. It really did. Countless times you wished that she was the one that would change your bad history of making friends. Because when you were around Natasha, nothing else mattered. The days of no contact slipped out of your mind. You’d forgive her for anything in a heartbeat… maybe that was the problem.

You thought the world of her. And she saw that. ‘Never meet your heroes’ that’s what they say, isn’t it? And maybe she wasn’t quite at hero status for you, but you looked up to her. Praising her work when she returned from a successful mission, commenting on the ingenious moves she made to lead her team to victory. She was everything you wanted to be as an agent, with one seriously important factor.

Everyone loved her.

Everyone loved her, and nobody knew you. She was the prize rose and you were behind, stuck in her shadow. They didn’t see you as anyone but the agent who sucked up to Natasha. They didn’t see how hard you worked, how many hours you trained, how much effort you put in. And they never would. Because it was too much. You were a try hard.

A try hard in a room full of effortless people.

Effortless just like that other agent was. She’d been rumoured to move up into Natasha’s ranks and onto her mission team, leaving you struggling in the lower levels. It felt almost childish, yearning after the attention of one single person. But no matter how hard you tried, or how casual you tried to be, Natasha would never see you as anything other than a fan girl.

You knew she was capable of giving you what you desired, you saw it with that other agent. The way they laughed together, developed inside jokes and anecdotal phrases that they brought up in group discussions. You saw the way Natasha’s eyes lit up at the mention of her name, how she gushed over her but also teased her at the same time. Their effortless banter had you choking back tears as you sat one table over, watching with blurry eyes.

You wanted that so badly it hurt.

But if you stopped trying, stopped reaching out, stopped lusting after the perfect friendship you so badly craved with her, would she notice? Or would you fade into the background, silently, without a word. Maybe she would be happy, now that you’re no longer bugging her.

Maybe it’s for the best.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #friendship angst #marvel angst #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic #scarlett johansson

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7ndipity · 7 months

Text

Take a Chance on Me

Yoongi x Plus Size Reader

Summary: You and Yoongi met during his enlistment and quickly became friends, but what happens when your friendship begins to grow into something more?

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of insecurities and anxieties

A/N: A massive thanks to @bethanysnow for requesting this idea and for obsessing over it with me!😘 I’m so excited to work on this as a drabble series, I hope you’ll all enjoy it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

‘Okay, you can do this, it’ll be fine.’ Yoongi repeated to himself, fingers drumming anxiously against the steering wheel as he waited to pick you up from work, trying to quell his nerves before he spotted you jogging across the parking lot towards his car.

“Hey, Min.” You greeted him as you slid into the passenger seat.

“Hey, Y/n.” He said, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth in spite of himself, your presence alone managing to calm him, if only a little bit.

It was remarkable almost, how in just a few short months, you’d come to be such an important part of his life.

When you’d first met following his public service assignment, he’d been a bit hesitant of getting too close with anyone around him too quickly, but you’d managed to worm your way into his heart almost instantly.

He still remembered the first time he realized how much he liked you; he’d made some dry, sarcastic remark that no one else had really reacted to, unsure if he was being serious or not, but you had let out a quiet burst of laughter that had immediately set everyone else at ease. It was just a little thing, but it had played over in his head for the rest of the day.

He hadn't even known that much about you at the time, except your name, your department, and that the sound of your laugh was one of the best things he’d ever heard.

Before long, he had started finding more and more excuses to come by to see and talk to you, even if it was just for a minute as he brought some forms for somebody else to sign, eventually asking if you wanted to hang out together outside of work as well.

You’d known who he was of course, in your own words it was impossible not to, but you’d never treated him differently because of it, something he’d come to appreciate more and more as you’d gotten to know each other.

You were so bright and warm and funny, and had a way of putting him at ease that few others had ever managed, he found himself easily charmed by you, and it was honestly your friendship that had made the rather jarring shift between his lifestyles bearable, if not almost pleasant.

But more recently, he’d begun to realize that his feelings towards you had grown beyond those of purely a friend.

Yoongi craved you, he wished there was a better word or phrase to convey his feelings for you, but that was the best he could come up with. He craved your presence, your comfort, the sound of your laugh when you found something he did cute or funny. He found himself missing you constantly, even if he’d just seen you, wanting to wrap his arms around your plush figure and keep you close at all times. It was like he was addicted, and frankly, it scared the shit out of him.

“You okay?” You finally asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. You’d noticed he’d been quieter than usual, having barely spoken the entire car ride to your place, stirring up your concern for him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I-uh, wanted to ask you something.” He started, scratching at his palms nervously.

“Okay.” You said, eyeing him curiously, making him fidget even more.

Fuck, it would be easier if you weren’t staring at him with those fucking eyes, he thought. They’d been one of the first things he’d noticed about you, one of the first things to put a chink in his armor.

He had spent the previous night laying in bed, trying unsuccessfully to come up with a more eloquent way to put his feelings into words, but as soon as he looked up at you, everything seemed to shrivel up and drift away, like leaves on the wind, leaving him with only the simplest of thoughts and question in his mind.

“Would you… go out with me?” He asked softly.

Your eyes went wide. “What?!”

“Will you go out with me?” He repeated.

“But, w-why?” You asked, flabbergasted.

“Why do you think? I like you, a lot.” He let out a huff of laughter, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Fuck, honestly? I think I might even love you, but I know that’s way too much out of the blue. I just know that I want to be with you, as more than friends, if you’ll have me.” He finished, glancing down at his feet awkwardly.

It was quiet for a long moment as you stared at him, stunned, letting his words sink in.

“I don’t… get it.” You said slowly.

He blinked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why me? I’m not exactly your type.”

“You don’t know that.” He interjected.

You scoffed. “C’mon, Yoongi, be serious,” You said, skepticism clear in your voice.

“I am being serious.” He said, looking at you with utmost sincerity. “You’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”

You shook your head in confusion. You’d seen the type of people that Yoongi spent time around in his line of work, and they were very different from you; thin, beautiful, perfect. Not that you didn’t think you were pretty in your own way, but compared to the idols that he was typically around, the idea of you and Yoongi just didn’t make sense to you.

“But I’m just… me.” You said, the last part coming out almost as a question, not understanding his logic.

He smiled. “That's why I like you. You're open and honest and kind, you don’t hide behind some front or mask, and you don’t put up with anyone’s shit. You’re smart, and funny, and beautiful-”

“But I’m-” Your hand went as if to gesture to yourself, but he was quick to catch it in his own.

“Hey.” The sudden sharpness in his tone caught you off guard. “Don’t you dare try to sell yourself short, you hear me? When I say you’re beautiful, I mean it.”

You bit your lip, mind racing. You wanted to believe him, but there was that nagging voice in the back of your head that kept saying it wouldn’t work, something was going to go wrong.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to date though?” You pointed out. “What if someone finds out?”

“They’ll say ‘good for them’, otherwise I don’t give a fuck.” He said firmly. “What I do outside of that building is none of the company’s damn business.”

You smiled at that, but said nothing, still thinking.

“Look,” He spoke again, this time much softer. “I realize that this is a lot all of a sudden, and you don’t even have to answer today, you can take however much time you want to think about it, I’m just asking for a chance.”

It was quiet for a moment before you spoke again, softly. “Okay.”

He looked up at you. “Okay?”

“I’ll go out with you.” You clarified.

“You will?” His eyes lit up.

“Yeah,” You nodded, grinning at him.

He beamed, letting out a relieved sigh before leaning across the center console and pulling you into a hug. “Thank you.” He mumbled against your hair, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I like you too, by the way.” You said.

“I was kinda hoping, given your answer, but thanks.” He chuckled, smirking at you.

“Ugh,” You shoved against his chest lightly, but he was giving you no room for escape. “You could’ve just said it back.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, okay?” He asked, grinning at you.

“Fine.” You grumbled, feigning annoyance.

“Can I make it up to you?” He asked.

“Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, he leaned closer, pressing his lips softly against yours.

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #yoongi drabble #yoongi reaction #yoongi oneshot #yoongi series #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi x plus size reader #bts scenarios #bts series #bts fluff #bts x plus size reader #bts x chubby reader #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #bts drabble #7ndipity

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reidsdaisies · 6 months

Note

hey bb can i req a cute first date with spencer at a coffee shop or bakery or whatever but he’s jus super fucking nervous and shows up 30 mins early and bouncing his leg and stutter and almost piss himself (not really but you get the gist)

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭𝐬

༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; nervous!spencer x kind of sunshine fem!reader

༉‧´ˎ˗ warnings; first date jitters, mentions of food, i think that’s it.

༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 0.7k

༉‧´ˎ˗ a/n; congrats on being my first req! (as if i didn’t quite literally beg u) i wrote this and then realized you probably meant you wanted to see him actually be nervous during the date but i worked too hard to let this go to waste. hope u can forgive me for that bae 😥

𝐂𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

If you were to ask Spencer Reid to provide you with a detailed summarization of the whole Star Trek series, his eyes would light up and he’d get lost in his long rambles about scientific fact this and scientific fact that.

But if you were to ask him proper first date etiquette, he'd freeze up and look around awkwardly for a way to escape the conversation.

Or, in short, he knows nothing about first dates. He’s never been on a date. With anyone. Ever.

That's why he's currently pacing down a short length of the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets as he waits for the sign giving him the go ahead to cross the street.

He would never be in this predicament if you, the peppy girl with a permanent smile seemingly plastered to her face, hadn't been bold enough to strike up a random conversation and ask his awkward, nerdy self out on a date to a new bakery that you informed him just opened up.

"If you're free Sunday, I'd love for you to come try their beignets with me! I've heard they're to die for."

The way you had initially proposed the offer made it seem so casual, until once he agreed, you followed it up with another, more clearly labeled exclamation.

“Sounds like we’ve got a date!"

Truth be told, he’d never particularly liked beignets all that much, but when the offer was served to him so graciously, he couldn't deny. No one can blame him. Who would have denied that beautiful, bright, contagious smile? Definitely not Spencer.

Once his hand is pulling open the bakery's door, he knows there's no going back. Not that he's a quitter, but he is unbelievably—or maybe pretty believably, we are still talking about Spencer here—nervous.

With a quick glance at his watch, he realizes just how much he overestimated the amount of time it'd take him to walk here. He's not just on time, he's a whole 26 minutes early.

Not near early enough to beat his record, but still very early compared to the advice Garcia had given him about showing up “fashionably late”, as she put it.

This only adds to his stress. Being alone, in a part of the city he's never been before, waiting for a girl who might not even be on her way yet. Yeah, he's cracking.

Spencer’s fingers tighten around the bouquet in his hands, flowers all picked out for the same reason—they reminded him exactly of the perfume you had on during your first meeting.

In attempt to calm himself down and get some fresh air, he slowly backs out of the bakery, the bell chiming, gaining a confused look from one of the workers.

Before he even has a sliver of a second to be embarrassed, his phone buzzes, a text asking if he’s on his way yet appearing on screen.

Taking a quick look around, his eyes landing on you standing in front of the bakery with your back to the window, dressed in a casual floral dress with a long coat over top, your hair blowing around you in the breeze as you look down at your phone.

He’d never thought he’d be so grateful for another person being just as overly punctual as him, you saving him from a half hour of sitting alone in silence.

“I-,” Spencer clears his throat. “I’m here!” He walks over to you hesitantly.

The first thing you notice when you look up from your phone is his fists clenched right around the base of a colorful bouquet, stems crushed from his deadly grip.

“Hey, Spencer!” You greet the man, wrapping him up in a tight hug. When you pull away, he’s looking down at you, eyes sparkling but jaw still slightly trembling.

“These flowers, they’re for you.” His voice is slightly timid, his eyes set on the pavement as he holds the bouquet out expectantly.

Your expression softens when he struggles to get his words out, but you treat him no different, accepting the flowers gratefully.

“A whole bouquet? You’re the sweetest, Spence!” Another bright smile takes over your face, throwing your arms over his shoulders, bringing him in for yet another hug.

He’s stiff for a moment before he realizes you’re not going anywhere, and you’re giving no clear signs as to you not wanting him there, so with a slight confidence boost, he lets his arm slowly slither down to your waist, holding you flush against him.

“Let’s uhm, let’s get those beignets.”

This time when you pull away, instead of letting the anxiety get to him, he’s smiling along with you, ready to follow your lead into the bakery.

#reidsdaisies #reidsdaisies spencer <3 #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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angelrari · 9 months

Text

emotional bruises · pt. iv

lando norris / carlos sainz x singer!reader

faceclaim: emilia mernes

a/n; hello! i just wanted to tell you i'm travelling so i'll try to update as much as i can, but somedays i won't have access to wifi. i left this part scheduled so i'm sorry if i didn't tag somebody. also there's such a big written part here and i just hope my english is fine! and once again tysm for the comments and reading this! it makes my heart full ❤

ps. carlos is coming i promise!!

prev | next

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yourusername

liked by jennierubyjane, francisca.cgomes and 1,893,071 others

yourusername hi barbie! 💗

view all 16,280 comments

jennierubyjane gonna miss you like crazy

yourusername i'm gonna keep calling you until you get tired of me

jennierubyjane never!!

username she's so unbothered exactly

· · · · ·

"i don't think lando is a bad guy". you said and jennie quickly raised her gaze. "a terrible boyfriend, but a good person overall".

"y/n, you know there has to be a reason why he decided to say that on tv. and i do agree that he's a nice person to everyone else, but he wasn't to you, at least not during the last months of your relationship".

"i know, but-"

"look. i think there are two- three reasons why he said what he said. one, his pr team are tired and decided to try to save his reputation. two, he's very aware that you two are gonna be in the same city soon and he's gonna hit you up. three, he's trying to get inside your head now you said you're doing well. if there wasn't a reason behind this, he'd skipped the question".

"do you think he wasn't honest then?"

"y/n, has he texted you since that day? when you broke up?" she asked and you quickly shook you head. "then no, he's not being honest. what would've you done if it was the other way around? if it was you and it truly was a mistake?"

"it depends on how he would've reacted, but i've probably tried to save the relationship somehow".

"right. he hasn't. we both know he gave up on this relationship way before that happened. one day you were the love of his life and the next day he didn't remember to text you back. y/n, enough is enough".

· · · · ·

yourusername

liked by rosalia.vt, lilymhe and 1,541,971 others

yourusername had a tiny break before going to singapore (don't worry i'm getting on a plane now). i have a feeling this weekend we're gonna have so much fun ️‍❤️‍🩹

view all 15,937 comments

username don't ask me the color of anything

username i bet lando is throwing a fit rn

lilymhe can't waitttt for our date👯

username what about alex?

lilymhe y/n first!!

yourusername

liked by francisca.cgomes, lilymhe and 1,122,829 others

yourusername i think i'm gonna regret posting these pics tomorrow but i missed these girls so much ️‍❤️‍🩹

view all 12,139 comments

username omg the wags are reunited???????

username shut up i'm gonna cry

danielricciardo i'm gonna have to pick heidi up right?

username correct!! (and me too)

danielricciardo then i'm not going! (i'll be there in 30 mins)

username you're the besttttttttt

danielricciardo please stop drinking

· · · · ·

a girl's night out was exactly what you needed (or at least that's what lily thought). so she planned a gorgeous dinner at a fancy restaurant on the rooftop of a huge building and invited kika, heidi and carmen. laughter filled most part of the night (except when your ex was brought up), the bartender kept bringing new cocktails to the table and you swore you hadn't felt this happy in a while.

earlier heidi had figured out you were staying at the same hotel as her (and daniel), so she offered you to join them on their way back as he would be picking her up.

daniel couldn't stop joking about how drunk the both of you were. he adored you, you were always kind and caring, and he always loved your friendship with heidi. so when he realized that you didn't know that lando and you would be staying at the same hotel he decided to keep his mouth shut, knowing it would ruin the night for you.

at the hotel, you hugged your friends as you wished them good night, since they were staying in a different part. you took the elevator and waited until it reached your floor. your heart felt so full because you'd just spent such a wonderful night. but when door's opened and you saw the face of the man you once loved you couldn't stop yourself from saying out loud:

"fuck".

· · · · ·

taglist: @roseseraj @katcontrreras @boiohboii @eugene-emt-roe @inesven @jjsprobablywrong @nooshytushie @willowpains @shessthunderstoms @thecubanator2 @black-swan-blog27 @sltwins @peachiicherries @ietss @elliegrey2803 @be-your-coffee-pot @leclercloml @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @nooshytushie @incoherenciass

938 notes · View notes

mythmakinvgxz · 3 months

Note

hii could you write abaut Blas being upset since he is jealous because the reader (fem!reader) is close and friendly with Matías please? Maybe an scenario where the reader and Blas had an argument before this situation :)

Sorry for my english 🧍🏽‍♀️

. ݁₊ ⊹ all alone.

˖ ࣪⭑ pairing: fem!reader x blas

˖ ࣪⭑tw: jealousy, swearing.

˖ ࣪⭑ a/n: i hope it’s what you imagined <3

"fuck it." you exclaimed as you hung up the phone. it was the 8th time you've tried to call blas, as he hadn't answered none of your texts.

you were supposed to go to a party together, along with the boys, to celebrate the ending of filming. and he was also supposed to pick you up, but he was unreachable. he couldn't have really left you in that situation, alone.

as you felt your anger taking over, you became clear again: you still had to go to the party, with or without him.

still thinking about your boyfriend's behavior, you grabbed your bag and left the apartment the two of you shared. when you got to the street, blas didn't arrive in the car, of course, and the thought alone made your blood boil. you demanded explanations, and quickly. but your mood couldn't ruin the evening. you calmed down and called a taxi. when you arrived at the party, you had to force a smile to greet everyone.

“y/n!” you heard someone shout behind you while you were talking to enzo. turning quickly with a questioning look, you looked for who had called you. in front of you came esteban, smiling at you friendly, as he approached to hug you. “hi!” you said, hugging him as well. as you parted you smiled at him “how are you, kuku?” you asked him, happy to talk with a friend. he was one of your closest ones and he was the one that basically got you and blas together, he helped you guys a lot to get along.

“i’m good, i’m waiting for juani. he’s always late.” he answered rolling his eyes, after checking the hour. it was 22:47 and not even the shadow of blas. you forced a face, trying to stay calm. where the hell was him?

“by the way, where is blas? wasn’t you guys supposed to come together?” he asked you in a concerned tone. “yeah, he’s on his way.” you lied, smiling softly. you didn’t fell like talking about how he behaved before, you didn’t want to ruin your night or esteban’s. the music was blasting into your ears, and you felt like you were going crazy with all those colored lights, but you tried to control yourself, even though you wanted to go home and sleep, trying to forget about blas.

as esteban went away, you distracted yourself a bit by talking to fran and agustin, the nicest of all. they had been making jokes for almost two hours and your belly felt sore from laughing. your eyes were filled with tears as the boys talked and joked. “so they took pipe a salad!” said fran, in a calm voice. he was talking about tat time pipe ordered a pure de papas, the thing he wanted to eat the most after filming, and they got him a salad.

you laughed so hard that you almost felt sick, as you heard someone behind you speaking “that was terrible” it was pipe. that made you laugh even harder. your hand lingered on your stomach due to the laughter. the boys laughed with you as the music pumped and people you’ve never seen kept coming into the party.

“i need some water now, i’ll be back in a min.” you excused yourself, still laughing lightly as you recovered. you arrived at the bar and asked for a glass of water. as soon as you had it in your hands, you took it thanking the bartender and went back to the boys.

but they had disappeared, they were no longer there. your gaze wandered throughout the room looking for them, but they were nowhere to be found. your friends were gone and your boyfriend wasn't there. a wave of melancholy suddenly overtook you. you were alone. what was the point of staying there?

feeling the tears in your eyes that were slowly coming out, you took your jacket, hurrying towards the exit to go home. your gaze was pointed to the ground, you didn't want anyone to see you and you weren't in the mood to explain what was going on to anyone. looking down, when you bumped into someone at first you didn't notice who you had hit, but when you looked up you found matias' face very close to yours. you looked at each other for a moment, while you searched for the words to apologize and run away, but he was faster. “y/n, what's going on?” he asked you in a worried tone, noticing your glassy eyes. you couldn't look at his face, not in that state. you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, forcing a smile. “nothing, everything is fine.” you replied to him. but it wasn't enough. you were very good friends and he knew something was wrong.

his eyes looked at you with a disappointed face. were you really trying to lie to him?

searching for the words to begin, you felt a vice on your wrist. his hand had grabbed you and was leading you across the room. you felt it tighten around your wrist as you passed through a sea of people, bumping into many of them. when it was starting to feel as you had been walking for hours, matias slowed down his pace, while the street light became closer and closer. as soon as you reached the back exit of the club, matias let go of your wrist. you stopped next to him and turned to ask him "why did you do that?"

"i wanted to go out for a moment." he stopped, looking at your face. "and you seem to need some air too." he finished, taking a cigarette from his pack.

on the small door there were steps, where the boy sat down, resting. wondering what was happening and observing that scene, you stood there looking at him for a while. "sit down." he said without looking at you, patting the spot next to where he was sitting. you sat next to him as you watched the smoke coming out of his mouth. matias handed you the package, and without saying anything, you took one, lighting it.

the two of you remained silent for a while, until he spoke again, shaking you out of your thoughts. "what happened?" he finally looked at you and you could detect a note of concern in his eyes. rubbing a hand over your face, trying to sort out your words, you replied “blas pissed me off.” sighing sadly. he had never acted like this, what had come over him all of a sudden?

matias remained silent, waiting for you to continue, his gaze fixed on you. resting your elbows on your knees, you said, "he hasn't responded to my texts or calls all day."

saying those words out loud, you realized how stupid you sounded. you hadn't even thought that maybe your boyfriend might have had a dead phone, or maybe a sudden commitment had come up. but at least warn...

your anger took over, making the words rush out of your mouth "we were supposed to come here together, he should have picked me up and now we should be here, both of us. instead it's just me!" you pointed at yourself "who knows where he is. and who knows with whom!" at this point you were exasperated, you couldn't take it anymore.

matias looked at you silently, smoking his cigarette, waiting for you to continue your speech to try to understand what was happening between the two of you. calming down, you continued "it's not like him to act like this, he's never done it. i don't understand what's happening to him." sighing you finished your speech as you felt matias's eyes fixed on you. you could feel him judging you, you didn't meet his gaze, you couldn't stand it. he was surely thinking that you were overreacting, that you were crazy and that he just forgot to text you. you would have thought the same thing if you were him.

"it's actually strange that he behaved like that." he said, after a moment of silence which he had spent thinking about the right words to use so as not to say the wrong thing. "did something happen between you two before?" he asked you, throwing the finished cigarette onto the street. "no, that's the point." your hands went into your hair. "nothing like this has ever happened."

"maybe he needed some time alone." the boy on your right continued. "i respect that, absolutely, but at least he could have warned me."

"you're right..." matias said thoughtfully. "i don't know what to tell you, y/n. you've never had any problems in your relationship, i envy you for that." you laughed out loud, thinking about the mess that was going on between the two of you at that moment. "i'm not good at relationships, or even at giving advice. but i can tell you not to worry so much: blas is a very sweet guy, especially with you. i'm sure that everything that's happening between you will be resolved." he said in a sweet, reassuring tone. "relationships are also made of this."

the boy finished his speech, placing a hand on your shoulder and caressing it kindly. you turned to him, smiling softly. “don't let something like that ruin your evening.”

"i'll try." you replied, laughing ironically. "thanks, mati." you gave him a sincere smile, grateful to him for helping you. talking to him had done you good, you had managed to see things from another point of view, another perspective. "whenever you want." matias said, laughing. you laughed too, breathing deeply of the fresh night air.

you stopped for a moment to look at the street: there was no one around, not even a person. you seemed to be the only ones on the face of the earth, but the voices and the music that came from inside the club caught your ears, bringing you back to reality.

"do we want to go back?" he said, breaking the silence. "i want to stay here a little longer, you go in you want thought." you replied in a whisper. you weren't in the mood to go partying, you had a lot of things to think about.

you looked away, but he replied "that's fine" he remained where he was, making you understand that he wasn't going anywhere. "you're not coming back inside?" you asked him, feeling sorry for him. you didn't want to ruin his night, by babysitting you. "i can stay here alone, it's no problem." you smiled.

"i'm not leaving you here on your own." he replied, as a soft smile popped on his lips. you thanked him in silence, smiling as well. "can i have another cigarette?"

you two continued talking for what seemed like an eternity: matias was making you laugh so much you wanted to thank him for distracting you from your thoughts, but all that came out of your mouth was just laughter, laughter and laughter.

"so i jokingly said to him 'why don't we go and shoot this scene directly in the andes?' and jota looked at me so bad!" he laughed too, remembering that scene. you burst out laughing harder than before, almost falling down the stairs. matias was quick to catch you before you hit your face on the road, grabbing you by the hips. "oh my god." you exclaimed, catching your breath. "but how did he put up with all of you for five months?" you asked, wiping tears from your eyes. "honestly? i haven't the faintest idea."

more laughter came out of your mouths, until out of the corner of your eye you saw a car parking in front of you. when blas exited the vehicle, slamming the door behind him, there was nothing more to laugh about for you. matias on the other hand didn't seem to have noticed anything. so when he turned towards you, and seeing your serious gaze aimed at someone, he asked you "what's going on?" there was still a hint of laughter in his voice, but as soon as he saw who was coming towards you, it disappeared completely.

"hey man!" matias exclaimed to blas, who had now arrived in front of the both of you, in front of you and was looking at you with a questioning look "hello, mati" he replied, without even looking at him. his gaze was fixed on yours. "what is happening?" your boyfriend asked, a mix of anger and pure curiosity in his voice.

"i could ask you the same thing." you told him. in your gaze, however, there wasn't a hint of emotion, like in your voice. "i'm gonna go." matias said, sensing the tension in the air. so he returned to the club, disappearing among all those people. you two didn't even notice, you were so intent looking at each other.

"do you have to say anything?" you asked him, your patience was slowly leaving you. "i owe you an apology, i'm sorry." he said, hands in pockets and looking at his shoes. that was all?

"what happened to you? you completely disappeared." you continued, that wasn't enough. "i was at a casting, i forgot my phone somewhere. that's why i didn't call or text you. i arrived late because i didn't even know the location, pipe sent it to me half an hour ago." he sat down next to you, and a wave of his scent slapped you.

but you couldn't give in so easily, not right away. you continued with the questions "you didn't tell me. you were supposed to pick me up, blas. i had to take a taxi to get here." your tone was whiny and angry at the same time, while his was softening. "i'm sorry, it must have slipped my mind." you could sense from his voice that he was truly sorry for leaving you in that situation, alone. "can you forgive me?" he asked you with a pleading look, as the wind caressed his curls.

"don't ever do that again, blas." his hand took yours, squeezing it gently. "i promised i won't." he said as he placed a sweet kiss on the exposed skin on your neck, making you shiver. you finally gave in at his touch.

as he parted from your neck, he asked you "by the way, what was matias doing here with you before?" his tone was concerned as he spoke with a lower voice. "nothing, we were just talking." you answered calmly. he mumbled under his breath, not convinced in the answer that you just gave him. "why do you ask?" "he took you by your waist, y/n." he said, torturing his long fingers. he saw that scene.

"it's nothing to worry about blas, really." he was jealous, matias was one of your closest friends and you loved him, but not in that way.

he snorted, looking away. he didn't believe you, maybe? "i didn't really like what he did..." he said softly. blas wasn't very good at expressing his feelings due to his shyness, but with you there had never been any problems like this, so it was strange. "blas, we're just friends. nothing else." you took his hand in yours, trying to reassure him. he pouted as he stared at the road, unable to face your gaze.

“you’re cute…” you told him at the sight, leaning forward to see his face, smiling lovingly. "i'm not cute, i'm pissed off at matias..." he said nervously, blushing at the sudden compliment, looking away so you wouldn't see him. "no, you're cute." you grabbed his face with one hand, and he turned towards you. a pink hue flushed his cheeks as the stars in his eyes grew closer and closer to you.

"especially when you're jealous." as you said this you brought your face closer to his, causing your lips to collide. you immediately felt his hands wander all over you: your hair, your back, your arms, your thighs. they finally rested on the back of your neck, as he tugged you deeper into the kiss. your fingers caressed his curls softly.

you smiled on his lips as he leaned over to you, kissing you all over your face.

he had always been the same.

nothing would ever changed between the two of you.

#blas polidori #blas polidori x fem!reader #blas polidori x you #blas polidori fic #blas polidori angst #lsdln fic #lsdln #lsdln cast

195 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 3 months

Note

You couldn't understand why he was so insistent on this. Was it because he was jealous or was there some other reason driving him to push you to your limits? He seemed to enjoy every moment of it, even when you were exhausted and begging for a break. But you were helpless, at his mercy, and all you could do was obey as he continued to ravage you without mercy. You didn't know what had gotten into him. It was becoming clear that his desire was insatiable. Based on William running into inexperienced reader’s ex or another players comment sparked his breeding and stomach bulge kink 🍆#SlutsforPresidentNylander

Oh, I'm terribly sorry, bb! It took me much longer than expected to post this 🤍 But I believe I've finally got it sorted 🤞🏼

To be honest, I wasn't sure where this was heading, as I wasn't entirely sure I was ready for a breeding kink, but I decided to go with it and hopefully, it turned out well enough for you 🙃

Additionally, I've combined it with this request too 🤍

[I have no idea whether sports journalists would genuinely ask such questions, but for the sake of the story, let's assume they would 😉 After all, the media works in mysterious ways]

Warnings: 18+ smut; penetrative sex (p in v); cum inside; use of blindfold, anal toy, light bondage, light spanking; use of safe word; more penetrative sex (p in v); more cum inside - Trigger Warning: Reader expresses desire to slow down, but William does not acknowledge/hear it (🌶️);

Word count; 6.8K 🤦🏼‍♀️

「Inexperienced!reader x Willy」

The dress (in case you are interested)🥂

"du är min prinsessa" = you are my princess

・✶ ｡ﾟ

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt VII I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️(🌶️)

Waking up in William’s arms was quickly becoming your favourite thing in the world.

Every day, you found solace with him, momentarily forgetting about the outside world until your alarm rudely interrupted the tranquillity for the second time.

Meanwhile, your snoozing boyfriend could easily roll over and continue sleeping while you had to face the day ahead at work.

And as you switched on the dim light of your bedside lamp, you couldn’t help but admire his well-defined physique. He was incredibly handsome, and the fact that he was your boyfriend made it all the better. Everything felt perfect, almost too perfect, which tended to spark a small sense of fear within you. Was your relationship too good to be true?

William seemed flawless in every aspect. He was attractive, admired by many friends, had a large, supportive family, excelled in his career, and, most of all, he had a laid-back attitude towards life, cherishing every moment without worrying excessively.

This was in stark contrast to your own nature.

You often found yourself worrying, perhaps more than necessary. Though you didn’t constantly dwell on it, there were moments throughout the day when you questioned what William saw in you. Was it solely because of the incredible sex you shared? Or perhaps because you were the only girl who hadn't thrown herself at him, which intrigued him?

Regardless, these thoughts persisted, despite William's daily affirmations of love.

But shaking your head, you prepared for the day's work, which thankfully would be brief, as you also needed to prepare to meet William later for the gala - an event that made you rather nervous since you'd never attended one before.

Fortunately, the other partners had been incredibly helpful. Amanda and Sanna had eagerly assisted in selecting a dress and making you feel comfortable for the event. Although the gala didn't require much public participation from the partners, you still wanted to feel confident and elegant as you mingled with the important figures of MLSE. You simply wanted William to feel proud to have you by his side.

And indeed, William was proud of you. Something he hadn’t quite felt about his exes. But how could he not be?

Your appearance was breath-taking as his date for the night. Your long, black, glittery dress accentuated your figure, complemented by heels that added to your elegance. Your jewelleries sparkled almost as brightly as your eyes, which were beautifully enhanced by your makeup.

It was undeniable that you took his breath away with your appearance, and he wasn't the only one who noticed. Nearly everyone at the event had something to say about how stunning you looked; girls admired your dress and makeup, and even a few managers greeted you with compliments.

He almost felt guilty for feeling like he was showing you off, akin to how he used to feel as a teenager with his new hockey sticks. Though didn't intend to objectify you, he just couldn't help but revel in having you by his side, with his arms around your waist.

"Wow y/n, you've really outdone yourself tonight," Auston remarked as he approached you and William before another round of Blackjack.

"Thanks, Auston," you replied with a smile. "Although I thought you might have made a bit more effort yourself," you teased.

"What do you mean? Don't I always look amazing?" Auston chuckled confidently.

"Well, of course, you always look absolutely dashing," you playfully remarked, adding a hint of sarcasm as you rolled your eyes. And Auston simply laughed at your banter.

You could practically sense William's smug expression from the corner of your eye as you conversed with the other forwarder, noticing how pleased he was with the compliments you received. After all, you were his date.

And William did wear a confident smirk as you interacted with his teammates, particularly when you spoke with players like Auston. Though it wasn't that William disliked his teammate; he just recognised Auston's penchant for charming girls, and his almost flirty remarks toward you only bolstered William's confidence further.

William even suspected that Auston might have harboured a slight crush on you from the beginning but never acted on it, and perhaps now he was slightly regretting it. However, William had no regrets. Instead, he cherished the chance to flirt with you, share intimate moments, and experience the best times with you. Not only sexually, but you had also become an incredible girlfriend, with whom he now shared his home. You were unlike any other girls he had dated before - at least, he had never felt for them the way he felt for you. With you, commitment felt natural, without any hesitation or reluctance to leave behind his bachelor lifestyle.

And as he stood there, admiring you engaging in lively conversations amidst the blue and white lights, drifting away from the rest of the company, he was suddenly brought back to reality.

"Hey Willy, want to join us for a game?" Mo asked.

William shook his head to refocus. "Oh, yeah, sure... Um, I just need my—"

In his confusion, he searched his pockets, but you intervened with a chuckle, handing him the glasses he was looking for.

"Here you go, baby," you said with a content smile, knowing that he had forgotten them, and you were there to save the day.

"Oh, thanks, älskling," he smiled, putting on the glasses to better see the cards in the dim lighting.

"No problem, that's what I'm here for," you chuckled, giving him a brief kiss on the cheek. "You'd probably lose your pretty head if it wasn't attached to your neck," you continued the playful banter, and the guys joined in on the laughter.

"See that, Willy?" Mo chimed in. "That's wifey material, just saying."

And with laughter, the boys turned to sit at the casino table to play a round of blackjack.

Then for the rest of the evening, you simply enjoyed yourself with the other dates who had come tonight. Not all the significant others had chosen to join, so the few of you just had a wonderful time together.

However, while still keeping an eye on you throughout the night, William’s mind couldn’t help but wander into untouched waters, prompted by Mo’s comment earlier – ‘wifey material.’

It actually sounded pretty good in his head, even though it wasn’t really something he’d ever thought much about - probably because he hadn’t ever thought he’d have the chance to think in these directions. Although he’d seen several of his teammates form families, he himself had mostly just focused on his career and enjoyed the single life.

But now that he had you and was certain he never wanted to let you go, the notion of a more serious commitment slowly began to take root in his mind.

But again, William's thoughts were interrupted by the company around him.

However, the following day, William still couldn't shake the thought of what had been mentioned the previous night amidst the blue and white lights. Mo's comment about you being his future wife had inexplicably sparked the idea of starting a family in William's mind.

Although neither of you were anywhere near ready to start a family or even consider it seriously, William couldn't entirely dismiss the idea.

And after finishing dinner, William suddenly prompted a question that had been on his mind throughout the day.

"Babe, what kind of birth control are you using?"

His question caught you completely off guard.

"Uhm... I have an IUD, Willy... you know that," you replied softly, feeling a bit nervous.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he responded.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure we’ve talked about it before," you added, recalling your previous conversations about birth control.

"Yeah, of course, babe, sorry, I just forgot," he said casually, though his eyes remained fixed on the tv, not meeting yours.

And as you were still processing his sudden interest, William then continued with his questions about how it worked and for how long it lasted.

"Well, I got it about two years ago when I was with my ex-boyfriend, so it should last for another two or three years," you explained gently, but all you got in return was a noncommittal "hm" from William, followed by a simple "that's good."

Then a moment of silence hung between you as you looked intensely at him, noticing his mind working overtime.

"Willy... why are you asking about my birth control?"

"Huh? Oh, no reason," he replied nonchalantly, briefly glancing at you before turning his attention to the TV.

But unsatisfied with his response, you pressed on with a light chuckle. "Come on, babe, it’s so random! There must have been a reason."

And then William let out a quick chuckle and a sigh. "It was just... you know, after Mo made that comment about 'wifey material,' I just thought... that maybe, you thought about us one day being a family."

His words sounded almost nervous, although his tone remained steady, and a faint smirk graced his lips, indicating his contentment with the idea.

And you couldn't help but smile in response, as you hadn't expected William to already be entertaining thoughts about your future together. You simply felt a rush of happiness wash over you.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I do think that could be our future, Willy," you replied sweetly, gazing at him as he leaned back on the sofa and looked at you as well.

"I know it's not something we need to think about right now. I mean, we're not even close to that... but I just thought about it."

"And I'm really happy that you share these thoughts with me," you said as you leaned into him, your fingers gently tracing through his hair. "And I love that you can imagine a future with me..."

"But...?" William prompted with a chuckle.

"But nothing," you said almost seductively as you straddled him. "Just that… for now, maybe, I think I'm more interested in practicing for it."

"Oh, I agree," he responded eagerly.

Leaning down, you connected your lips with his, feeling his smile against your mouth as he returned the kiss. And as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, you deepened the kiss, both of you consumed by passion and lust. Then as the intensity grew, you instinctively began rocking your hips, grinding against him, both revelling in the freedom to explore each other without the worry of consequences.

His hands moved under the hem of your shirt, exploring your bare skin, before you replicated his move on him.

William's body felt incredible against yours. Especially when his strong hands gripped your bottom and flipped you onto the cushions with your back, and you felt the weight of him pressing down on you. Still locked in a passionate kiss, his hands effortlessly removed your shorts and knickers before discarding his own sweats and boxers.

It was as if your bodies were perfectly aligned when William positioned himself at your entrance. And despite the lack of foreplay, he carefully pushed his hardness into your warmth, eliciting harmonious moans from both of you that filled the living room.

"So tight for me, baby," he murmured softly into the crook of your neck. "You're taking me so well."

You felt a slight twinge of discomfort as he withdrew a little before thrusting back in, but soon your cunt was wet and ready, coating him and easing any discomfort. With your legs wrapped around his waist, William began to move his hips in a steady rhythm, making love to you right there on the sofa. Your breaths grew deep and heavy, your bodies heating up with each thrust, and soon you felt pleasure building within you.

It was unexpectedly romantic, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you. Your moans synchronised as you both slowly approached climax, feeling the sensation of William's length stimulating your walls.

"Willy," you attempted to speak, but only incoherent breaths and moans escaped your lips.

His thrusts grew harder and deeper, simultaneously to how his breath became incoherent. You felt his pounding almost as eager, yet it was nothing but pleasurable as you felt your pending orgasm soon approaching. Unintentionally clenching your muscles around him, you signalled your orgasm.

"Shit," William mumbled, feeling his climax nearing its peak as well. "Fu- baby, I'm gonna cum inside you."

"Yes, Willy, come with me..."

And almost in perfect synchronisation, you both cried out loudly, greatful for the thcik walls between you and the neighbours, as you reached your peaks, waves of ecstasy washing over you as you breathed heavily.

William trembled in your arms as he emptied himself inside you, his eyes shutting tightly, trying to regain control of his breath, as you felt a pulsating sensation around his cock, your body still processing the intensity of the climax.

No foreplay. No oral sex or fingering beforehand. Just pure, straightforward, missionary sex.

And it had felt surprisingly amazing, letting you feel nothing but bliss as you gradually returned to reality.

With William still buried inside you, he leaned down to kiss you softly and tenderly, your fingers threading through his princely locks.

"You're so amazing, älskling," William whispered softly, almost resting his weight on you.

"I could say the same about you," you chuckled lightly.

You stayed in that position for a while longer, William unintentionally ensuring that his fluids remained inside you as a part of him wondered about the possibility of you carrying his child one day.

But for now, you were simply enjoying incredible, protected sex that left you both completely exhausted, falling asleep almost immediately that night.

The following morning, you still felt a pleasant tingling sensation in your body from the previous day's passionate encounter. And a wide smile graced your lips as you reminisced about the pleasure that had left your head spinning.

Then while William was at morning skates, you prepared to meet up with your friend for a proper girl brunch. You hadn't seen Emily in what felt like forever since she lived in Montreal, but thanks to social media, you stayed in touch almost daily.

And nothing could beat a good chat over coffee, scrambled eggs, and pancakes. You caught her up on everything that had happened in the last six months of your life, and despite her being a diehard Montreal Canadiens fan, she was amazed by your newfound involvement with the Toronto Maple Leafs and your relationship with a player.

"Damn, babe, I'm honestly so jealous," she exclaimed as she sipped her mimosa.

"Oh, trust me, I'd be jealous of me too," you chuckled.

The conversation about your new lifestyle continued on for a little longer, and you naturally showed her the string of photos you'd taken, mostly from the latest gala event.

"Holy shit! Y/n/n, you seriously need to post this," she insisted as she saw one of the photos of you posing in your dress. "You look amazing!"

"Thanks, Em," you chuckled softly. "But I'm trying not to overwhelm everyone on Instagram with everything that's going on..."

"Why not? Honestly, if it were me, I'd be sharing every moment with the whole world," she emphasised.

"Well, I suppose I do have a pretty sweet life," you timidly admitted, flashing her a grateful smile, acknowledging how fortunate you were. Besides, she did have a point; you looked absolutely stunning in that dress.

And after a couple more mimosas and discussions about balancing your regular work and social life with the whirlwind of being a professional hockey player's girlfriend, you decided to post a few photos of yourself on Instagram.

Why hide your wonderful life, after all?

Then as you left the café, Emily suggested taking a stroll down the street, doing some light shopping along the way – and if you found something you liked, you'd try it on and pose for photos to capture memories of your day together.

Unbeknownst to you, the mimosas had given you a slight buzz as you began striking various poses in your new outfit, and as Emily's sweet compliments had boosted your confidence, you didn't hesitate to let your body show and your face exude your best model expression.

"Yeah, work it, babe, you look stunning," she would say almost seductively, encouraging you as you posed.

And still by the end of the afternoon, just before parting ways, laughter and giggles filled the air, evident in the pictures taken, and you couldn't help but feel elated as you said goodbye to your friend and headed back to the condo on the subway.

Meanwhile, across the city, William was wrapping up his day after ice practice and a workout in the weight room. And taking a short break after his last set, he scrolled through his social media, before he’d do some quick practice-media time.

When he first saw the photos you posted, William couldn't help but smile. "Damn, you looked good," he thought, swiping from side to side to admire every detail captured. Then he noticed your story, where you had shared a post from your day with Emily. And curious as always, William had to check out her profile to see who she was.

Although you had mentioned her before, he had never met her in person. And as he clicked onto her page, his eyes quickly found her latest post: a photo of you posing in a rather sensual pose, wearing an outfit that showed a little more skin than you’d usually were to brunch.

William swallowed hard as he frowned and studied the photo of you. You looked amazing, undeniably hot, if he had to be honest. But as he continued to look at the post, he started to notice the comments written below.

"Damn, looking good @y/i/n! Didn't know you had model potential 😍"

"Unf, somebody's flirting with the camera 😏"

"#sexylady !!"

"*Whistle sounds* 😗😗"

"Oh wow, maybe I could take you out sometime 😍😍"

As he read some of the comments, he couldn't help but feel a rush of resentment. This picture was completely public, and everyone on the internet could see this incredibly sexy picture of you.

It’s not that he was angry with you; but he was definitely angry with the guys online who were flirting with you. And he was not okay with it.

A little out of his usual character, William felt a certain level of protectiveness, almost possessiveness, as he didn't like that you were on display for the rest of the world to see. You were his girlfriend, and he didn't want men to start flirting with you like this.

"Hey Willy, they're ready for you now," Jennifer sweetly spoke, breaking him from his trail of thoughts.

And as he walked to meet the couple of journalists, William tried to let it go. He honestly did.

But then, after a few questions about his own training, expectations for tomorrow's match, and his performance, one of the reporters decided to rip open the tiny wound in his feelings.

"So, how do you feel about the partners of the team getting more and more attention on their social media?" the reporter asked.

William was caught off guard by the question. It wasn't anything he'd ever been asked before, yet he knew the married players on the team had been asked it a couple of times.

"Uhm, I don't know…"

"But do you think it's okay that they get this kind of attention?" another reporter asked.

"I... uh, no, I don't think so…"

"So would you want them to take down all their posts about their private life?"

"What? No, that's not what I'm-"

"Or should the management force them to have closed accounts so they don't show any tasteless behaviour online, like your own girlfriend?" Someone else interrupted.

"What did you just say?"

Emotions of confusion were suddenly replaced by a boiling sensation of anger instead.

"The post of her in a revealing outfit? How do you feel about that?" the reporter pressed.

And William just couldn't hold himself back any longer. The frustrations were boiling over, and all his media training was completely out of the window.

"You know what I think? I think you guys should stay the fuck out of it all and leave it to us. What happens between me, and my girlfriend is none of your damn business, and you should keep your mouth shut! You can ask me all about the sport I'm being paid to play but keep my girlfriend out of it."

The room fell completely silent after his outburst.

William felt his pulse skyrocket and his heartbeat quicken. The audacity these reporters had to ask him these questions, he thought, as he determinedly walked away from the scene.

Entering to the locker room, with fists clenched he couldn't get the words out of his head or let the anger get to him. Something that usually never happened.

And as he let the water run down his body, washing away most of the frustrations, he thought about the mix of emotions within him.

William was torn between the pride he felt when showing you off as his girlfriend and the jealousy he felt when reading the comments on your photo.

Sitting in his stall, he once again opened your Instagram and studied how beautiful you looked in yours and Emily’s pictures. You shone like a million diamonds, and a great part of him felt content about how the fans seemed to be jealous of him being your boyfriend. In fact, it sort of made him smile a little, but what swiftly had his smile disappear was when he saw a comment from someone that appeared to have a name similar to your ex-boyfriend.

"Shit, baby! You look so beautiful ❤️ I know I probably shouldn't be commenting here, but I just couldn't resist! Can't believe I ever let you go…"

William felt his heart stop for a brief moment. Who the fuck did he think he was, commenting on your post like this?

He almost threw his phone across the room, but a message from Calle stopped him.

C: “Hey man, what’s going?”

Willy: “What do you mean?”

*C has sent a link*

It was a video from an unofficial sports channel, discussing the headline: “William Nylander rages over girlfriend’s Instagram post!”

And he couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic chuckle. These fucking reporters, he thought – they surely work quick, and for what? A story based on a lie.

Yet, he still couldn’t contemplate how his emotions stirred within him.

Should he be proud of how everyone was jealous about his gorgeous girlfriend, or should he be angry because they were trying to flirt with you?

As he stepped into the condo, feeling the warmth of the home you'd built together over the past week, he leisurely walked into the lounge, where he found you snuggled up on the sofa with his dogs.

"Hey babe," you greeted with a smile, though it dimmed slightly when you turned, and his lack of joy was evident. "What's wrong?" you asked, concerned.

But William simply approached you, stood between the coffee table and the sofa, and without uttering a word, he fixed his gaze on you.

And your eyes were intensely locked, you sensed that something was amiss.

But again, without a word, William just leaned down and kissed you. It was passionate, almost urgent, yet gentle and intimate.

He held your face in his large hands, drawing you in with his energy, prompting you to slowly rise from your seat, moving with him as he guided you away from the sofa.

A weighty silence hung in the air as William effortlessly lifted you in his arms and then carried you to the bedroom, where he began to gently undress you.

His movements were deliberate, purposeful yet gentle, as if he had a mission. He made sure to caress every part of you as he removed your clothes, leaving you standing before him in nothing but your lace thong.

You found yourself almost frozen in place, a mixture of fear about his intentions and curiosity about what would happen next swirling in your mind. And with bated breaths, you followed his every move, the silence in the room heavy with anticipation.

Standing before the bed, you waited, expecting his command. Then he approached from behind, and you felt the warmth of his body against yours, both of you in just your underwear. His bare chest pressed against your back, and his large hand gently encircled your throat, pulling you back against him.

His forceful action elicited a gasp from you, but you couldn't help but lean into his touch, feeling the safety and warmth he provided. Closing your eyes, you felt the firmness of his grip, not restricting your airway but simply asserting his dominance, and his breath hot against your ear as he spoke:

“I fucking love you, du är min prinsessa, don’t ever forget that.” Though his words were sweet, his voice was rough and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

And when releasing his hold, you let out a small gasp.

"I’m yours," you said softly.

"And you trust me?"

"Yes," you simply replied.

Leaning in closer, he took a deep breath before continuing.

"If you want me to slow down, say yellow. If you want me to stop, say blue. Do you understand?"

You nodded gently.

"Then say it," he instructed.

"Yellow to slow down, and blue to stop," you repeated.

"Good girl," William murmured, a sense of satisfaction evident in his tone.

And as you stood there, waiting for him to proceed, you suddenly felt his warmth gone, before a silky fabric, gently covered your eyes. It was probably one of his ties, you thought,

"Bend over."

His command was delivered in a low, dark tone, and you could almost sense his smug satisfaction behind you as you, now blindfolded, let your hands find the bed for support.

"Are these new underwear from today?" he asked almost mockingly, to which you nodded and emitted a confirming hum. But that only had him tear them off your body, the fabric cutting into your skin, causing you to again gasp softly.

His hands then came to caress your cheeks, massaging them gently before slightly spreading them apart.

“So gorgeous.”

You weren’t really sure what to anticipate, as you had absolutely no idea what was going on inside William’s head, yet you were inexplicably curious to find out.

And while trying to control your breathing, you suddenly felt some sort of liquid sliding down between your cheeks, which William then used his thumb to very gently nudge around your tightest opening. Whether it was lubricant or saliva, you had no idea; all you knew was that it granted him access to carefully press his thumb inside you.

"Oh," you moaned, feeling a slight twinge of pain, yet it was quickly replaced by pleasure.

But William only massaged your opening for a brief moment before withdrawing his thumb. And instead, he replaced it with something cold and metallic - the small butt plug you’d used before. Very slowly, he pressed the plug against your opening, with care letting it past the tight muscles and inside you.

You released another breath, trying to relax your body, just like you'd practiced the last time you explored this particular area. And as the plug was set in place, you could feel how it stimulated your inside.

"Does it feel good, baby?" William then asked, his voice caring hints of satisfaction and care.

"Yes," you softly moaned, before feeling his fingers slowly trace down between your legs, encouraging you to spread them a little further as his digits began exploring your sensitive flesh.

And you couldn’t suppress the sounds of pleasure that escaped your lips as his fingers circled your clit before delicately toying with your entrance, and slowly pressing two inside, curling and scissoring as he pumped within you.

“Shit, already so wet, baby,” he remarked with a grin.

"Oh yes, Willy," you let out with heavy breaths, feeling yourself clench around both his fingers as well as the metal plug in your ass. But just as you were starting to feel pleasure slowly building within your body, William withdrew from your warmth.

"Get on the bed, on your back," he commanded.

And without question, you obeyed, using your hands to guide yourself onto the mattress.

"Hands above your head," you heard William instruct, and once again, you complied. "And keep them there."

You then felt his body straddle yours as he leaned over and tied your wrists together with something you assumed was another piece of fabric – perhaps a scarf from his collection. Then with your wrists firmly secured, William left his position. You tried to listen for any sounds he made, but there were no clear indications of what was going on. Only footsteps and something, clinking maybe?

You felt your heartbeat quicken as you waited for what would happen next, and fortunately, you didn’t have to wait long. Sensing movement between your legs, you felt William kneeling before you, his hands slowly moving up your legs, pulling you a little closer. Your body ached for more intimate touch, craving more than just the stimulation from the butt plug.

“You’re so beautiful,” you heard William whisper, and just as you curved a little smile, you were surprised by something cold on your lips. William kissed you, holding an ice cube between his lips, and the heat from both of you causing it to slowly melt, a drop of water running down the side of your mouth and down your jaw.

Then, William began to move further down, ensuring the ice cube touched your skin at all times as he dragged it with his lips. Down your chin, your neck, then to your collarbone and between your breasts. He continued downward, just past your navel, and finally to the top of your core.

And you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as you felt the sting of cold on your skin, yet you also knew you had to lie still, keeping your hands in place if you wanted the next treat.

"Not moving your hands, huh? Good girl."

William's praise was like music to your ears, signalling you deserved what was to come next. Positioned between your legs, you barely had a moment to process before you felt his cold mouth on your heat.

"Oh, shit!" you moaned loudly as the mix of chill and warmth sent a pleasurable rush coursing through your body. And the sensation only intensified as William continued to pleasure you, mixing his saliva with your juices, sucking and flicking your clit and the sensitive flesh around your entrance. Needless to say, you were thoroughly enjoying it, your moans and deep breaths echoing in the room as his skilled mouth worked its magic, all the while the metal plug adding to the thrill.

"Fuck! Willy... I can't!" you cried out, finding it difficult to remain still, struggling to keep your hands in place with pleasure clouding your mind. And just as you moved your hands to grab onto his hair, William withdrew his mouth, and strained your wrists back down.

"Thought you were being a good girl, baby... so disappointed," he remarked, his tone tinged with both disappointment and content.

Your anticipation for climax remained unfulfilled, yet you couldn't deny the arousal sparked by William's husky voice and dominant demeanour. And with a swift motion, William took a strong hold of your thighs and turned you onto your elbows and knees, fully exposing your ass to him, including the little diamond plug.

A satisfied grin adorned William's face as he admired you, but he also knew you needed to be disciplined for not following his orders.

And as you tried to control your breaths, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden change in position, you let out a loud moan, almost a shriek, as you felt a strong slap across your ass cheek – another painful sting mixed with pleasure as you clenched around the butt plug.

And then another slap followed.

It felt undeniably good, yet also a bit overwhelming. But you didn’t want it to end, not just yet.

Though you couldn’t see anything, you sensed that William was flashing a smirk behind you, his breathing almost audible. But then, something else caught your attention – William’s tip pressing against your entrance. And with a firm grip on your waist, he eased himself into your depths, eliciting synchronised moans.

It felt so good as he filled you up like that, yet you also felt a level of overstimulation as both your holes were being pleasured.

And as he began to rock his hips, letting his cock massage your walls, you soon felt a new wave of orgasm building up. But William's thrusts showed no intention of allowing you to slowly build to climax; they were rough and forceful, devoid of any romance.

You could hear the sounds of his moans mixed with the loud slapping of skin behind you. And as the rhythm was relentless, driving deeper and deeper, you knew it wouldn’t be long before you reached a peak with this intensity.

“Willy… please,” you begged as you felt your muscles clenching once again, and this time he allowed you to reach the pinnacle, fucking you harder and pushing you over the edge. And you cried out as you surrendered to the intense orgasm.

But there was no time to catch your breath as William continued to fuck you through the euphoria. You could almost feel your cunt dripping with evidence of your climax, mixed with sweat from both of you.

And it was becoming too much. William had no mercy as he overstimulated your walls with every thrust.

“Yel-…” you tried to speak in a hushed voice. It wasn’t easy. “Yell…”

But William didn’t hear you; the noises of rough sex merely drowned out your whisper.

Yet just as you were about to try and form the word "blue," you suddenly felt William stop and pull out from your heat. And a sense of relief washed over you, yet you knew he hadn’t finished yet, so you couldn’t relax too much.

Without hesitation, he flipped you over onto your back once again, using one hand to pin your hands above your head, and re-entering you in missionary position.

It felt as though your body had completely surrendered to him, melding into his movements with each powerful thrust. You tried to scream between your moans that you were on the brink of another orgasm, but words failed you. And instead, you simply gave in to the overwhelming intensity, your mind clouded by pleasure as your boyfriend moved relentlessly inside you.

Helpless and at his mercy, all you could do was obey as he continued to ravage you. Though, you couldn't understand what had gotten into him; it was becoming increasingly evident that his desire was insatiable.

"Shit, baby... I'm gonna come..." you suddenly heard him breathe out above you, and with his other hand, William pushed aside the fabric covering your eyes, restoring your sight and meeting his gaze.

“I wanna see your eyes.”

Covered in sweat, he continued to rock his hips, a crooked smirk across his lips as he stared down at you, noticing your tears of pleasure.

And as he then felt himself nearing his own release, he used a hand to wrap around your throat again, exerting a slight pressure without being too forceful. Shutting his eyes tight and determined to reach his climax, he thrust a little harder.

"Oh, fuck!"

With a few final powerful pounds, William let out a deep grunt and released his seed inside you, emptying himself completely, as he filled you up. His body almost gave way as he reached his peak, his legs trembling beneath him, and his lungs fighting for air.

It was undoubtedly the most intense sex you had both ever experienced. The way William had fucked you hard and good, and you had reached orgasms too numerous to count amidst the heated session.

Then gently releasing his grip around your throat and wrists, he slowly pulled out and untied your hands.

William remained silent at first. He simply knelt back, gazing down at your exhausted form, regaining control of his breathing. And you too had to gradually return to reality, blinking a few times as you looked up at him, meeting his intense gaze while starting to feel sensation returning to your body.

Both of you were a mess, with sweat and cum soaking the mattress.

"Shit, are you alright, älskling?" William inquired, peering down at you with concern evident in his eyes as he noticed the redness between your legs and on your wrists.

But despite feeling like you had been torn apart, you also experienced a sense of pleasure. And to reassure him, you mustered up an exhausted smile, understanding how important it was for him to know that you had enjoyed it too.

"Yes, Will, I feel fantastic," you murmured gently.

"Really?" he sought confirmation.

You nodded, prompting a faint giggle. "Yes, although I do feel I need to remove the butt plug, my ass feels a tad sore…"

William chuckled in response, gently assisting you in removing the toy with deliberate movements. And naturally, he took good care of you in the shower, as both of you needed to rinse off, tenderly washing each other and expressing all the love and affection that hadn’t been present during sex.

Then returning to bed, William held you close, radiating nothing but sensitivity.

"Was I too rough with you?" he asked as you both lay on your sides, facing each other with William's arm around you.

"A bit, but I also really liked it," you assured him, offering a sweet smile.

"Good, that's good. I only want you to feel great, even when I'm taking control like that," he said, his smile lopsided.

But slowly your smile faded as you wondered about his peculiar behaviour this evening.

"Is something wrong, Willy?" you asked softly.

"No, everything's fine," he replied, but you weren't convinced.

"Come on, I know you like being dominant in bed, but this was different from anything else we've done…"

And finally, William let out a deep sigh and rolled onto his back, contemplating how to articulate his thoughts.

"I suppose I got a bit worked up," he began slowly. "Like I wasn't sure how to feel. On one hand, I felt almost angry after seeing those comments on your Instagram post…"

"Oh…" you murmured, propping your head up with an arm. "So, that's what's been bothering you?" you asked softly.

"Well, yes, but not entirely," he said, giving you a soft smirk and shifting onto his side again to face you, leaning on his elbow. "Because then I thought about it, and even though I don’t like it when men flirt with you online - I mean, I could honestly punch some of them - I remembered how much I love you, how proud I am to have you as my girlfriend, and that I’m the one who has a future with you… so, to be honest, I don’t really care about what they think or write. It just makes me even happier knowing that they’re jealous of me being with you."

And as William shared his deep thoughts and concerns, you couldn't help but feel a rush of happiness from his words.

"Willy, I love you too, and… please don’t think too much about what’s on the internet. If I had to spend my time reading everything women write about you, I’d never get anything done," you said with a light chuckle, your eyes meeting his in a tender gaze.

"I know… and you're amazing for brushing it off," he said with gratitude.

"Well, it's not always easy… but what truly matters is how we feel about each other."

"Exactly – I guess, it was just mainly your ex's comment that really got to me."

You couldn’t help but laugh a little as William admitted that your ex had managed to hit a nerve.

"Oh, forget about him, babe… I love you far more than I could ever love him."

"Yeah, I know," William chuckled softly, gently biting his lower lip before continuing. "But honestly, I feel pretty good about it. Knowing that he still wants you, but that you’re mine now."

His expression showed a hint of amusement as he reassured himself that he had nothing to fear, and that your ex was the one who’d lost in this scenario. And you couldn’t help but smile as you observed his smug expression, a sense of shared enjoyment settling between you.

"I am yours, Willy – you’re the only one I want to be with, to start a family with, and to grow old and wrinkly alongside," you spoke softly as you caressed his cheek.

And suddenly, it felt as if all the negative emotions of jealousy and anger had dissipated, as you both understood the solid foundation of your relationship. The strength of the bond between you, and how there was no need to worry about the outside world and their attempts to drive you apart.

Yet, as the comfortable silence lingered, William felt the urge to break it.

"You know... I have a feeling Tony might have a little crush on you..."

He wasn't entirely sure why he brought it up, but a small part of him was curious to hear your thoughts. And despite being caught off guard by his words, you maintained a calm expression.

"Really?"

"Yeah... I mean, he hasn't said anything, but..." William trailed off wiht a soft chuckle.

"Hmm... Well, he's nothing compared to you, Willy,” you spoke confidently, looking deep into his ocean blue eyes as you flashed him a sweet smile.

"I know, älskling,” he chuckled darkly, flashing a satisfied grin once again. “I know.”

#18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy #SlutsforPresidentNylander #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine

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