#Dancefloor Romancer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

guiltyasdave · 1 year ago

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delicate

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~3.9k

summary: You meet a mysterious man at a club. He's just as attracted to you as you are to him.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, very soft dom!Oberyn, protected p in v (who am I), dirty talk, fingering, anal play (m receiving), a hint of angst, romance because I can't help myself

a/n: written for @dancingtotuyo’s on repeat drabble challenge, based on the song delicate by taylor swift. this is honestly just feral, i have nothing to say for myself.

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

Lights are flashing, colors dancing over the exposed skin of your arms and shoulders; the bass is pumping, making your whole body feel like it’s vibrating from within. You’re clinging to your friend, your arms intertwined as you navigate your way through the crowd of people to the bar.

You first see him as you’re gulping down your drink, welcoming the cool liquid in your parched throat. Your eyes are observing the crowd, flying over him and then flickering back to take a second glance.

He’s gorgeous, his dark hair a mess, a beard framing his face, his skin shining under the lights. He’s wearing a shirt that flows around his body, threads of gold weaving through the fabric and reflecting the dancing lights. It’s almost entirely undone, giving you a generous look at the expanse of his toned chest, at the sun-kissed skin that you feel a sudden urge to run your fingers over. A massive gold chain with a lock hangs around his neck, an accessory that you’re convinced would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else. But on him, it somehow only accentuates the strong cords of muscle that ripple under his skin in a way that makes you want to lick your lips.

He moves with a confident ease, his body in tune with the stomping beats, his whole being exuding an almost cocky self-assuredness. You keep drinking him in, fascinated in a way that you can barely understand. You realize that you’ve been staring when your friend follows your line of sight and you hear her quiet gasp beside you.

“Haven’t seen that one around before,” her voice floats into your ear over the music and you shake your head in silent agreement. You’d definitely remember if you did.

You both watch him move with the body of a woman next to him, watch him bend down to whisper something into her ear, watch the way his lips curl into a smug grin as she grinds against him in reaction to his words.

“Too late, I guess,” you laugh, downing the rest of your drink and tearing your eyes away.

The two of you head back into the crowd, swaying your bodies to the beat. You try to get lost in the feeling of it, but your eyes keep searching for him, hungrily grasping at the glimpses of him that you can spot. Eventually, you watch the retreating backs of both of him and the woman head toward the exit, their bodies closely intertwined. Like you said, you try to shrug it off, too late. It’s not a big deal, there’s more than enough other guys around you.

But you don’t go home with any of those guys, none of them able to catch your interest the way he did, and when you lie in bed in the early morning hours, your head pleasantly buzzing with the remaining alcohol in your bloodstream, you still see him behind your eyelids.

A few weeks go by and while you hope to catch him every time that you’re out, there’s no trace of him. It isn’t until your friend’s birthday celebration, a tradition that the two of you have kept up for years, that you see him again.

Again, you’re leaning against the bar, your eyes aimlessly drifting over the dancefloor while you’re sipping on your drink, when you spot him. He’s wearing another colorful shirt, his chest almost entirely on display, and he’s shamelessly grinding against another young man as they’re both moving to the beat. You can’t tear your eyes away, apparently staring so intently that he catches you and throws you a wink across the room.

You feel heat rising in your cheeks and almost turn away, but he’s already on his way, moving towards you with a cat-like grace, effortlessly weaving through the crowd of moving bodies.

“Hey,” he says, leaning into you so close that his breath fans hot against your ear, causing goosebumps to rise on your neck. “Saw something you like?”

You grin at him over the rim of your glass, biting your lip and nodding. He mirrors your grin, an almost predatory glint in his eyes. He’s even more gorgeous up close, a light sheen of sweat on his face and his eyes a smoldering brown, his dark hair a mess with strands sticking to his forehead. You take in his toned chest, his broad shoulders and you desperately want to touch your hands to his golden skin. A foreign accent is lacing his words in the most delicious way, only adding to the pull that you feel towards him.

“Let me buy you another drink,” he purrs and you accept, thanking him and offering him your name. You relish in the way you have to lean into him so that he can hear you, greedily soaking in his scent and his body heat that make your mouth water.

His name is Oberyn, you learn, a name that sounds foreign on your tongue and you could swear that a quiet growl rises up his throat when you repeat it back to him.

You’d love to spend your evening dancing with him, pressing your body against his, find out if moving with him feels as good as it looks from the outside. But it’s your friend’s birthday, and you’re gonna stick together, dance the night away with each other and no one else, the way you do every year.

He shrugs it off when you tell him as much, an unbothered grin on his face as he promises you another time then. His hand wraps around your wrist, the warmth of it sinking into your skin as he pulls your arm out towards him, a black marker suddenly in his other hand.

“What are you–” you begin to ask, but your voice dies at the sight of him pulling the cap off with his teeth, something that really shouldn’t affect you this much.

He bends over your arm and it takes your hazy mind a moment to register that he’s writing numbers onto your skin. You’re getting lost in the feeling of his hand on you, even in such an innocent place, and your thoughts are already jumping to fantasies of how it would feel trailing up your arm and over your body.

“There,” his voice floats into your ear and you almost jump. The smug look on his face leaves no doubt that he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He leans in close again, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. Your mouth feels dry.

You look down at your arm, now adorned with digits in black ink. A phone number.

“Give me a call,” he smirks, and leans in even closer, until his lips move against the shell of your ear and a shudder runs down your back at the sensation. “Just think of the fun things we could do.” He throws you another wink and slides away from you, back into the crowd.

You text him the next day, worried if it’s too soon, if it makes you seem desperate. Then again, you have to admit to yourself, you are desperate. Desperate to hear his voice again, desperate to feel his hands on you again. Texting him is less awkward than you had hoped, his demeanor putting you at ease almost immediately. You catch yourself smiling at the screen, already down bad for this man.

You’re in bed, struggling to calm down enough to sleep when your phone’s screen lights up the darkness of your bedroom from where it’s lying on your nightstand.

He’s asking you to meet him in a dive bar, right now, if you want to. You’re reluctant at first, once again worried to appear too eager, but the almost magnetic pull that you feel towards him eventually leads you out of your apartment and to the address he sent you.

He’s waiting for you in the back, just like he told you. Wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt, the fabric stretching around his broad chest in a way that makes it hard not to stare, dressed much more casually than you’ve come to know from him. It doesn’t take away from his persona one bit, he’s still exuding that energy that seems to let him command every room he’s in, that makes it so hard for you to resist him.

He buys you a drink and pulls you into a corner booth with him. Talking to him is easy, he’s an attentive listener and his quick remarks make you laugh, leaning into him when you do. You learn that he’s not from around here, that he flew in to visit friends but that he’s thinking about moving here permanently. It almost scares you, how giddy that prospect makes you, the idea of having the chance to keep seeing him. His arm finds its way around your shoulders eventually, his fingers drawing shapes over your skin. The innocent contact makes you feel like a teenager, suddenly sixteen again.

He walks you home later, his arm still wrapped around you, pulling you into his side. It feels good, a sense of safety and intimacy that you feel yourself getting lost in. You had thought that he was hot, that he would be a fun hookup, but as the minutes tick on, you realize how much you already like him. How much you want this feeling to last.

It feels so natural, turning around to face him when you reach your building, both of you leaning in simultaneously until your lips meet, like it’s the only possible way for this evening to end. You think that it is.

Kissing him feels even better than you had envisioned in your mind, and you melt against him, one hand braced against his chest while the other comes up to pull at the hair in the nape of his neck, needing him closer, not ready to let him go. He’s cupping your face in both hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks, and you feel him smile against your lips. You lick into his mouth, revel in the groan that rumbles deep in his chest.

You don’t let go of him, holding onto his hand when you pull him up the stairs, soak in the feeling of him pressed against your body when you unlock your apartment door, let him connect his lips with yours again when he walks you backwards down your hallway.

Everything about him feels so right, so safe and yet like the most exciting experience you’ve ever had. You breathe him in, ecstatic with the sensation of his broad form against you, with the way you feel his muscles move under your fingers where you’re grabbing at his shoulders.

He lets you lead him into your bedroom, his hands still all over you. You push him down to sit on the edge of your bed and he follows your lead, sinking down on the mattress with an easy grin on his face, regarding you with hooded eyes. He wraps his hands around your waist as you’re standing in front of him and he pulls you closer. His fingers find their way below the hem of your skirt, dancing over the supple skin of your thighs, slowly inching up higher.

You whine, already squirming under his touch, and his grin widens.

“So soft,” he coos up at you, tightening his grip on your thighs and moving you to straddle him, your legs already spread wide to accommodate the thickness of his thighs beneath you. One hand comes up to cradle your face again, his thumb nudging at your lips and you flick your tongue against the digit, making him chuckle.

“And so pretty,” he continues, leaning in to connect your lips once more. You want to melt into him, let him consume every fiber of your being.

Your hands tug at his t-shirt, pulling it up, desperate to satisfy the need to be closer to him, to feel his bare skin against yours. He helps you, lifting the fabric over his head. You’ve seen most of his chest before, but not like this, not revealed just for you, in the dim light of your bedroom, yours to look at, yours to touch. He somehow seems even broader without clothes on and you’re almost transfixed by the thick cords of muscle of his arms and shoulders that are on display for you now.

He chuckles again, placing another kiss at the corner of your lips.

“You alright, princess?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, feeling breathless, overwhelmed with how much you want him.

His hands splay over your thighs, fingertips dipping beneath your skirt again, slowly, teasingly skating higher.

“Take this off for me.” It’s phrased like an order, but it’s still so soft, not leaving a doubt in your mind that you could say no if you wanted to. But you don’t. You want him to see you, want to feel his eyes on you, want to have this hungry look that’s trained on your face burning all over your body.

He groans when you obey, a deep, rumbling sound that goes straight to your core and you know that he feels your thighs clenching on top of his. His mouth is on your bare skin within seconds, kissing and sucking, his tongue moving against you like he’s going to devour you.

You arch against him with a whine when he circles your nipple, first with his fingers and then with his tongue before sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. It’s all encompassing, the wetness of his mouth, the strong grip of his hands, the heat of his chest seeping into your skin where you’re pressing yourself against him.

“Please, Oberyn,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re asking for, just knowing that you need more. His responding moan sends vibrations from his mouth straight through you, before his fingers dig into your waist and he flips you over, until your back is resting on your sheets and he’s hovering over you, your thighs still spread wide around him.

The image alone is enough to send another wave of arousal through you, the way he looks just as wrecked as you feel. His large hands spread your thighs wider as he leans back, his eyes trained on your panties, where you know the fabric must be soaked already.

“So pretty,” he mumbles again, more to himself than to you. His eyes fly back up to meet yours, almost black, his pupils blown wide. “Can I take these off?” He dips a finger under the lace covering your hip, pulling it away and letting it snap against your skin.

“Please.” You don’t care how desperate you sound, not when he looks up at you with the most sinful smirk on his face. His hands grasp the fabric and you lift your hips to help him pull it down, but his smirk widens as he tears the lace in half, ripping the shreds off of your body.

“Fuck,” you whine, not a single thought wasted on the fact that those were some of your favorite panties, every part of you focused on how badly you want his hands all over you.

His eyes stay focused on your expression, eagerly drinking in your every reaction as his fingers dip between your legs, so close to where you so desperately need him. He groans when he feels the wetness seeping from your folds, swirling his digits through it before reaching your clit. He’s ghosting over the sensitive nub with barely any pressure, but it’s enough to elicit a moan from you, your hips canting up to follow his touch. You’re distantly aware of the pleas that are falling from your lips, giving way to a loud whine when he finally sinks two thick fingers into your heat.

He thrusts into you, curling them just right, and his name tumbles out of your mouth again, laced with pure need. You watch in fascination when he sucks his slick-coated fingers into his mouth, eyes still trained on your face, a rumble forming in his chest at the taste.

“Tastes so sweet, princess.”

Your thighs fall open wider, shamelessly offering yourself to him, to his eyes, his hands. You reach out, grabbing at his waist, the need to feel all of him nearly overwhelming. His fingers intertwine with yours, pulling your hands away from his body. He lifts them up to his mouth and presses soft kisses against your knuckles, a whisper of patience on his lips before he lets go of you and rises up to rid himself of his jeans.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, a needy sigh escaping you when you think about feeling him inside you, about the way he’s gonna stretch your walls. You sit up, eagerly reaching for him again. Your fingers wrap around his cock, mesmerized by his girth, and he hisses when you move your hand over his length.

You hear the crinkle of plastic and then his hand is on yours, gently tugging it away, much too soon for your liking. You watch as he puts the condom on with practiced ease, the sight of his own hands on his cock enough to send another wave of arousal through you.

He’s back on you before you know it, sliding in between your spread legs, his large hands splayed over your upper thighs, pushing them further apart. His eyes are trained on your weeping pussy, a hungry darkness in them. You whine when he rubs his cock through your wetness before tapping against your clit.

“You want this?” he asks, his voice husky.

“Please, Oberyn.” Your desperate plea breaks off into a filthy moan when he sheathes himself inside of you, breaching your tight walls with the most delicious sting, and you feel your eyes rolling back into your head.

Pleasure grows inside of you as he starts to move, slamming into your pussy in a forceful rhythm. You feel so full of him, the sensation almost overwhelming as he hits the perfect spot over and over. The wave inside of you crests so suddenly that you barely realize what’s happening, the need that you’ve felt brewing all evening finally reaching its peak.

You gasp his name, nails pressing into his shoulders as he fucks you through it, until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. He slows, moving in and out of you with shallow thrusts, his lips on yours once more.

You stay like that for a moment, arms wrapped around him, holding him close while you bask in the bliss that you’ve just experienced. But his continuous movements have the hunger for more growing inside of you once more. You meet his thrusts with your hips, needy to feel him deeper again. He props himself up, and it’s sinful how good he looks, his face glowing, a sheen of sweat on his skin.

You suck one of your fingers into your mouth, eyes wide and holding his gaze, feigning innocence. He watches you, a curious glint in his eyes, as you trail your hands from his shoulders down his back until you reach his ass and pull him further into you, fingernails digging into his flesh.

You let your saliva-covered finger reach further, gently massaging the puckered ring of muscle and he gasps, thrusting into you with so much force that it jostles your whole body and you cry out, the sensation of him so deep inside you a heady mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck,” he grits between his teeth as you keep up your ministrations, delighted to have this effect on him. “Fuck, princess, just like that…”

You bite your lip, grinning up at him. “Do the girls back home touch you like I do?”

He breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, his movements never faltering as he gathers your wrists in his hands and pins them down on the mattress beside your head.

“No. And you’re gonna make me come if you keep this up, but I’m not finished with you yet,” he purrs, leaning down and sucking bruising kisses into the soft skin of your throat, the scratch of his beard only adding to the sensation. You free one of your hands from his grip to tug at his hair, your fingers burrowing in the soft strands at his neck and scratching against his scalp.

“You can give me one more, can’t you?” His voice in your ear makes you shiver and you nod, a breathless please on your lips.

“Good girl.” His kiss is soft against your cheek before he pulls away, his thrusts speeding up, as he grabs your hips, holding them up, giving you no choice but to take him. “Touch yourself,” he demands, the tendons in his neck straining with exertion.

Your fingers are on your clit within moments, rubbing against it, slick with your arousal. The coil inside you tightens again, desperate for release once more.

“Give it to me princess, come on.” His voice sounds wrecked, and it’s the thing that makes you leap over the edge a second time, stars exploding behind your eyelids as you pulse around him, pure pleasure soaring through you.

He comes to a stuttering halt, hips pressed flush against yours, and his groans are almost enough to make you want to come again. He falls forward, forehead pressed against yours, and you share a lazy smile.

You think that he really is the most beautiful person that you’ve ever met.

You fell asleep curled against him, your head resting on his chest and soaking up his warmth, with his arm around your shoulder, but when you blink awake to soft morning light falling through your curtains, you are alone. You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. You’ve seen him at the club, he’s probably in a different bed almost every night, you shouldn’t be surprised that he snuck out of yours in the morning. And you sure as hell shouldn’t be disappointed.

You get up with a sigh, pulling a t-shirt over your head and padding down the hall to the kitchen. You come to an abrupt halt in the doorway, met with a sight that you hadn’t expected. He’s standing in front of your open fridge, the expanse of his back bare and turned towards you. There’s a swoop of excitement in your stomach.

You exhale loudly and he turns towards you, an easy smile on his lips. “Good morning.” His voice sounds raspier, still thick with sleep.

“Hey,” you say, returning his smile. He closes the distance between you and cups your face, the sensation of his thumb against your cheek already a familiar one. His lips find yours and you get lost in the feeling of it, in the fantasy of this being your every morning, in pretending that he’s yours.

When he pulls away, the words are out of your mouth before your mind is able to catch up.

“I think I really like you.”

You want to bite your tongue immediately, to take them back. Too early, the voice in your head screams. Your eyes widen as you search for something else to say, but he doesn’t waver, still regarding you with that relaxed smile on his handsome face.

“Is– is it okay that I said that?”

He hums, his large hand still on your cheek.

“I think I really like you too.”

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal #game of thrones #oberyn martell fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #janas fics #fic: delicate

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creatchie8 · 4 months ago

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The First Daughter

Summary: Hopelessly in love with the agent assigned to protect you, you devise a plan to reveal his true feelings

Pairing: Secret Service!Robert Floyd/First Daughter!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI! Oral (F receiving), alcohol consumption

A/N: I got obsessed watching the 2004 film, First Daughter, and took lots of inspo from that movie. I'd love to have him sworn to protect me ;) (Not proofread, I wrote this speedy fast)

Word Count: 3,500ish

The two of you had been playing eye tag the whole night.

And with every sip of the red wine you took, the more bold you became. Your cheeks felt warm as the alcohol slowly made your body buzz with excitement, ankles wobbling just a bit on the dancefloor in your red-bottomed heels. The orchestra that was hired played absolutely magnificently, the music changing between jazz and waltz, filling the (already full) large ballroom.

Marvelous gold chandeliers basked everything in a soft, warm glow. The regality of it all took you back in time, you imagine this is what it would look like if you were a princess in the 1920s. The paintings of your forefathers adorned the walls along with rich brown velvet curtains, a perfect contrast to the light walls and columns.

It was the second New Years with your mother as President, the first with Agent Robert Floyd by your side.

Robert was younger- mid thirties, some modest Navy man looking to change his career path when he got assigned to you after completing his training at the JJRTC in South Laurel, Maryland. He was incredibly unassuming, following you around quietly as you went about your day at Harvard or home.

How you ended up here at your mother’s party in DC trying to get a reaction out of the man, you don’t know. Maybe you were delusional, somehow you had convinced yourself that he felt something for you (love or lust, you didn’t know). It was the man’s job for god sakes, to follow you around and make you feel safe. You were not special to him in any way.

Within the last five months though, it felt like one of those steamy romance slow burn books you are always hearing about on social media. Lately, his gaze lingered longer than it should have when the two of you were in private. He opened up more, responding in detail when you would ask him questions about his life instead of the short one word answers he used to give before analyzing your surroundings again.

His voice was soft when he spoke to you, his hand finding your lower back like it was his own personal polar star when the crowd around you thickened. It was like the longer he was assigned to you the more his shell melted. Robert of course had time away from you, even as your agent he must eat and sleep. But when he would return and replace whoever was watching you before, he would ask to be caught up on when he was away.

No agent had ever had interest in you like that before.

You were probably just incredibly horny, being the President’s daughter doesn't get you much action, or at least not the kind you want. And you knew it was bad to want Robert Floyd, but somehow that made you desire him even more.

The dress you were wearing tonight may or may not have been picked out with your agent in mind. Floor length and velvety black, the soft fabric smooth against your middle. A neckline that was perfectly flattering of your chest, a simple necklace sitting on top of your collarbones delicately but also working to help draw eyes to your cleavage. Surely modest enough for the gathering but eye catching for sure.

He was stationed near a pair of opened doors, pressed against the wall in a neat black and white tuxedo, a metal american flag pinned neatly on his left lapel. It was standard dress for every agent that was there, but to you Robert stood out as by far the most handsome one. Light brown hair combed perfectly to the side. His blue eyes scanned the crowd in a zig-zag motion, stuttering and stopping on you when you were in view, his unique glasses glinting in the light.

The whole night you had been inching closer, using the excuse of mingling to hop from table to table (intermittently being taken to the dance floor by your father or some diplomat's son) and closer to his door. At one point you looked up from where you were leaning on a table, catching his eyes.

A few times tonight that had already happened only for him to look away swiftly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he straightened his shoulders. But this time he held your gaze, almost defensively as his brows furrowed the tiniest bit. He probably assumed you would take one for the team and back down first this time. But that second glass of wine you were halfway done with was leaving you valiant, his determination causing the side of your mouth to tick up the tiniest bit.

The muscles in his jaw twitched as he admitted a silent defeat, flicking his eyes elsewhere.

Never a rude host, you turned your attention back to the guest you were chatting with, letting her finish her story before politely excusing yourself elsewhere. With your clutch in hand and your wine abandoned at the table, you set off to the open door. With this newfound confidence you strut (albeit somewhat off balance) like you had every intention in the world to just leave for the bathroom and come back with no ulterior motive.

But you like to think Robert knew you like the back of his hand, watching him bring his right arm up, speaking into the microphone in his sleeve. An agent still had not relieved him as you passed by, eyes forward even though in your peripheral you noticed his head turn to you.

It wasn't until your heels hit the magnificent marble staircase that you heard his footsteps following you, echoing through the hall. Your left hand grabbed the front of the dress, hiking it well above your ankles as you climbed the stairs. Shockingly, there was no one loitering in this part of the building. Passing by a grandfather clock on the opposite wall you squint to make out the thin arms, concluding that it was in fact, almost midnight. The smell of pine lingered outside the ballroom, drifting into almost nothing the further you got.

You had already passed by two bathrooms as you led Robert on a wild goose chase through the building, trying to find the perfect spot. He was beyond patient with you, finally caught up and only a few short steps behind.

When you finally found what room you were looking for, you stopped short, letting his muscular body bump into yours before spinning around. Robert looked mortified, already stuttering beginnings of apologies as you grabbed the lapels of his jacket, thumb accidentally turning the pin askew before pulling him into the empty room (with remarkable force you might add).

In a whirlwind of moving bodies you suddenly found yourself back against the closed door, that same mortified look on his face as he stood there trapped in the room. In the shuffle you had dropped your clutch near your feet, the beaded satchel slumped against the dark mahogany floor.

The room was simple, a pool table in the center and a few chairs nestled close to the unlit fireplace. There was a bookcase somewhere in the room, hidden by the veil of darkness. The moonlight showed through two good sized windows on the wall facing you, his back illuminated by the light.

“I thought you needed to go to the bathroom.” He stated, clearly confused as his brows furrow. You could barely see his face and it might've been the alcohol but you were falling hard.

“I changed my mind.” You crossed your arms, body heavy against the great door.

“You wanted to play…” He turned towards the pool table then back to you, “pool?” His eyes continue to search the room, mapping out his surroundings like he always does.

Huffing at his lack of interest in you, you get straight to the point, “Robert, do you think I’m attractive?” It comes out brattier than you intend and you close your mouth with an audible click.

“What?” His attention is back to you in an instant, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“I asked, do you think I’m attractive?” Repeating yourself, biting your bottom lip hard at your own boldness. It takes a few seconds for him to respond to you, opening and closing his mouth a few times while he processes your question.

“Y-You're incapacitated, please let me help you back downstairs.” He says calmly, but you can see right through it. The mask he is putting on causes you to roll your eyes dramatically. Robert steps forward, hands outstretched to presumably grab your shoulders so it's easier to guide you back to your parents. The action makes your stomach light up in excitement, your first reaction is pushing yourself off the door and away from his reach, further into the room.

“I am anything but ‘incapacitated’. I’m tipsy.” You declare matter of factly, cheeks burning in the warm room. Now your back was to the window, your positions switched.

“That still falls under the definition of incapacitated.”

“I think you're attractive.” Your voice was suddenly much quieter, now toe to toe with a man visibly sweating bullets. “I've thought about it since I met you-” The sober part of you shuts your mouth, a nonsense love confession pushing against your teeth. He refused to respond, still as a statue sans his blue eyes tracing your face.

“Why were we playing eye tag from the moment the party started?” You press, determined to not back down until your question was answered.

“My job is to look after you.” A very real explanation to your question. The opposite of what you want.

“Is it your job to clench your teeth when I dance with other guys?” Just the mere mention of it has his upper lip twitching, and you know you've got your answer. You look up at him through mascaraed eyelashes, sweaty hands reaching up (surprisingly more shaky than you thought) to clutch at his black lapels.

You would've thought he’d stop you, it would be easy in your impaired state to grab your wrists and haul you down to the party in a cloud of shame. But he watched as you focused on his pin, pinching it between your forefinger and thumb to adjust it.

You don't process that he’s moved his hand up until he is brushing the hair out of your face that escaped your modest updo. His fingertips are gentle, and you begin to worry that this is the end before it has even begun, that he’s about to open his mouth and let you down easy. Pressing your hands firmly against his warm chest you weakly try to push back, the fear of rejection drenching your whole body.

He caught you unexpectedly by the shoulders, fingers wrapping around your bare upper biceps. Holding you close firmly, you gave up pushing away and dropped your arms to your side. Robert was searching your eyes before letting a long sigh out his nose.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that-” You close your eyes and tilt your head back to the ceiling, “I guess I am a little incapacitated.” Placing emphasis on the word to lighten the mood, not wanting to look at him to save yourself from embarrassment.

You were aware of everything on your body with your eyes closed. The tickle of your hair on your neck, the way your dress hugged your body, you could even feel the way your heels teetered on the hardwood. Worst of all, you felt his warm, calloused hands smoothing down your naked arms.

Then you felt one of his hands leave your arm, trailing up and up to your neck and cradling the back of your skull. Robert pulled your head up but still you kept your eyes closed.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking." A quiet waltz played from the floor below, accompanying his words that stung like rubbing alcohol in a cut. Your eyes snap open in an instant, rapidly blinking to clear them from the blurriness. You could barely think coherent thoughts between his hand still on the back of your neck and his painful words.

“I do know what I’m asking-” You exclaimed defiantly, “and I’m not stupid-”

“I never said you were stupid.” He cut you off abruptly, his warm breath fanned across your face in short puffs. You clenched your fists by your sides, your body itchy with annoyance.

“Robert. I swear to god if you interrupt me aga-”

And then he kissed you. And all you could do was rip yourself away from him in vexation, opening your mouth to hiss something at him about fucking interupting you again.

As you stumbled back you realized something. He was looking back at you like you had sprouted a third ear, and the disbelief in his eyes made you want to go search for a mirror to see if you actually did.

“Oh.” You touched your lips, desire starting a low buzz beneath your skin. He had kissed you. And it felt good.

“Yeah.” Robert said, almost sheepishly.

“Ohh-” Was all you could get out before he was on you again, his hands connecting with your waist while yours cupped his cheeks and jaw, pulling him closer.

It was frantic and messy, you felt light headed by the lack of oxygen. Your lipgloss had smeared all over your lips and his, the soft vanilla flavor all you could taste when you licked into his open mouth. Warmth blossomed in your chest as his hands sank lower to cup your ass through your dress, his lips migrating from yours to your jaw, leaving a light trail of saliva in their path.

Hands trailing up to rest against the nape of his neck, the short hair tickling your palms as you bit your bottom lip, stifling whines as his lips worked against the sensitive parts of your neck. It was too much yet not enough as his hands roamed over your body and yet managed to miss everywhere you needed him the most.

“S-Stop teasing me.” You managed to pant out, a gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips as Robert’s cold glasses pressed into your neck. You grab his hand from where it was resting under your breast, walking backwards blindly in search of the pool table. Your other arm was outstretched behind you, acting as a buffer in case you trip and fall.

Robert stumbled along like an obedient dog, reaching up with his unoccupied hand to yank the earpiece from his ear so it just dangled from his button up collar. When your bum hit the pool table he lifted you up and set you upon the edge with no hesitation, making butterflies kick up in your stomach. You were still in awe over his strength that you didn't even realize he had delicately slipped your straps from your shoulders and his hands were behind your back, pinching your zipper.

“May I?” He asked softly, awaiting your response. He was absolutely gorgeous, the moonlight illuminated only one side of his face. His hair was tousled and his lips were red from the kisses. Fine lines carefully etched into his features, the only sign of his age.

Your stomach flipped as you nodded, inhaling a deep breath through your nose as he invaded your space, slotting himself between your thighs. Robert looked over your shoulder and pressed a few soft kisses there as he carefully unzipped your dress. Your hands drifted up and grasped at his belt, the silver metal burning your fingertips with cold as you clumsily fought with it.

His lips returned to your mouth as he slowly pulled the dress down over your breasts, urging your hands away from his now unzipped slacks and through the arm holes of your dress. Although the air was warm to your cheeks and back, it made goosebumps rise along your chest, nipples perking up as the top fell to your lap.

You hardly noticed his lips leaving yours until you felt him push on your left shoulder, guiding you back so you were propped up on your elbows on the deep green baize. A protest died in your throat as his lips wrapped around a nipple, his warm tongue lapping at the stiff peak. A startled cry left your mouth as you felt his hand tweak your other nipple, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

You let your head drop back as his mouth switched to your other nipple, his fingers pinching the other. The black dress still was around your legs, thighs straining the fabric as you silently begged for him to touch your now aching core. You lifted up a heeled foot, pressing one of his thighs closer to your center.

Robert takes the hint, much to your relief and slips his hands down your body. You can feel every callous, every fingernail as he presses them into your soft skin and eventually grips his fists into the dress gathered near your knees.

You try to focus on the ceiling, which looked like it stretched miles above the both of you, crown molding decorating the edges and hand painted vines adorned the flat space between.

Slowly, just as Robert lifts your knees up and over his shoulders and sinks to the ground, you lower yourself flat against the green, arms outstretched above your head.

Your lower half was bare, save for the midnight black dress pooling around your waist. Robert’s breath huffed against your clothed core, drawing your attention back to him.

“Fuck…” You hear him whisper hoarsely. And only then can you feel his fingers drawing your panties to the side, a sharp gust of cold air drifting over your dripping pussy. The praise heats your cheeks, a swell of shyness bubbles within your chest. The panties are placed over your core and Robert presses his face against the silky black fabric, startling you.

You start to sit up on your elbows again, a moan caught in your throat as you watch him bury his nose and mouth in the damp silk, taking a deep inhale with his eyes closed. Savoring your smell as he mouths against you. It was tortuous, his blunt fingernails digging into the meat of your thighs. His cheeks are red, his groans vibrating against you as his glasses begin to fog.

“Please, Robert. I can’t-” Is all you can get out before he is ripping your panties to the side and licking you whole. With that one motion your thighs are already quivering on either side of his head. His flush trails down to his neck, hiding under the tight collar of his button up.

Your stomach tightens as the tip of his tongue circles your clit, sucking it into his mouth and savoring it like a piece of hard candy. With your mouth open, all you can do is stare with blurry eyes. Robert was consuming you like a man starved, his ministrations relaxing your muscles and turning you into jello before him.

“Robert, I-” You begin, outstretching your arm to grasp at his hair.

“Hmmm?” He hums, his mouth still working against you, jaw clenching as you attempt to push him back. Robert looked up at you through long eyelashes, eyes glazed over as if he was the one getting the most pleasure out of it.

“Please more- oh god do not stop.” You were not above begging. And thank god because that was all it took to convince him. At once he returned to your needy pussy, his right hand slipping from the top of your thigh to your juncture. His middle finger prodded at your entrance, slipping in with little resistance.

Back arching, you drop down to rest fully on the soft baize. Gasping as he managed to press another finger in. They were big, stretching you. The sensation bites but is quickly soothed as he curls them, beckoning an orgasm out of your body.

Your chest heaves as your body tightens, moaning nonsense as you get closer and closer. The man between your legs doubling his efforts as if you had told him you were almost there.

And then your body snaps. It’s like submerging yourself in a warm bath, you cannot breathe, in fear you might drown in the water. But weightless nonetheless.

He rises to his feet, and you are still boneless on the table. Pussy pulsing, only to be covered up again by your wet panties. The feeling is terribly uncomfortable, drawing a whine from your chest.

Even more shockingly, you do not even get a moment to revel in the afterglow before he is pulling you up by your elbow.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You huff in half hearted annoyance as he is already pulling your straps up and attempting to zip your dress.

“It is almost midnight-” He finishes zipping up your dress, “I suggest we go celebrate it with your guests.”

You blink and look up at him, reaching up and fixing his hair as a soft smile graces his features. Your cheeks heat as you remember the party downstairs, how only the two of you know that his face was between your legs just moments ago.

“Y-Yes.” You clear your throat and adjust your straps, offering him your hand, “I suppose we should.”

#lewis pullman #lewis pullman characters #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob fucks #bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you

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fizziepopangel · 2 months ago

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Chaggie Headcanons

Vaggie is the first to say ‘i love you’

Valentine’s day and their anniversary are very big days for Charlie and Vaggie, those tend to be the go big or go home dates as a couple…. But Vaggie’s birthday is one of Charlie’s favorite days.

Vaggie and Charlie have a standing reservation at Ozzie’s for their anniversary. Ozzie always makes sure they have the best table and the best service.

Vaggie tends to be more of a doer than a giver when it comes to gifts, so she tries to give Charlie more experiences rather than physical gifts for any gift giving occasion, Every experience does come with a keepsake though.

Charlie loves to give gifts, and often does it unprompted, but for her birthday, their anniversary, and Valentine’s day, Charlie tends to drop a pretty penny to get things that she knows Vaggie will use but tend to be too expensive for her to justify buying them for herself.

Charlie is a huge cuddle bug and is usually the one to initiate most of the couples cuddly moments, but Vaggie is usually the little spoon. Charlie loves it because she likes that Vaggie feels safe enough to be that vulnerable type of position with her.

When Vaggie got her wings back they did cause a flare up of pain in her back around the base of them so Charlie went to her dad to ask him about how to help her girlfriend with taking care of them properly and if there were any precautions she should take regarding the pain. She then put together a care package based off the advice. Vaggie sobbed for an hour when it was given to her.

Working out has always been something Vaggie enjoyed. Charlie isn’t really into working out, but she often goes to the gym with Vaggie because she does enjoy watching Vaggie workout.

While the couple has a sexual relationship within the romance they share, Charlie is a bit too awkward when it comes to trying to be sexy to consider herself sexy….. Although she was wildly uncomfortable, She did as Angel to try to teach her to pole dance…. Many, many failed attempts at different tricks, Vaggie found the princess pouting and sitting on a bag of frozen peas while Angel told her that pole dancing probably wasn’t for her.

Despite her outward confidence, Vaggie feels just as awkward as Charlie when trying to be sexy on purpose, so she found Charlie’s little attempt at practicing being sexy for her pretty hot.

When Charlie is away for the night for any reason, Vaggie wears her shirts as a comfort item…. That got a little harder when she regained her wings, but she still does it

Vaggie is convinced Charlie gives the best backrubs….. Vaggie in the other hand gives the best worst back rubs.

The couple goes on double dates with Angel and Husk. Charlie and Angel dragged Vaggie and Husk dancing….. Vaggie felt too awkward dancing in front of others and Husk had two left feet, so they sat at the bar, drinking and watching their happy idiots spinning around the dancefloor.

Vaggie and Charlie refer to Keekee as their child.

Calling Keekee their child would open up the conversation of marriage and kids. While they both want to get married and have kids, Vaggie is more than fine with not being able to get pregnant in hell and over the moon when they talk about adoption rather than trying to magically get one of them pregnant.

Vaggie always insisting she doesn't need a sweater, but Charlie ends up handing hers over when her girlfriend starts shivering.

Charlie doesn't get sick often, but when she does, she's miserable. Vaggie makes her the soup her mom used to make her when she was little. And yes, she does this for their kids too.

Although Vaggie tends to be the more protective one in the couple, God help the poor soul who hurts Vaggie in any way.

There are so many candid photos of both of them. Charlie hangs them up all around their bedrooms, even arranging them in the shape of a heart.

#fizziepop thoughts #vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin headcanons #chaggie #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #chaggie headcanons #husk hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #huskerdust #huskersust and chaggie #happy valentines

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bunnithechubs · 5 months ago

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Episode 11- Fuel the Flame

We kick off this episode like all others with a group date! Both houses went to an outdoor nightclub and enjoyed a night (and into early morning) of fun! House one was chaotic. EVERYONE wanted time with Penny so poor girl was running around the lot to spend time with each sim. Jasper and Penny ended up getting the enamored sentiment but they argued right after which resulted in them getting the unpredictable romance style. Silas got a bit of snuggle time with Penny but it was short lived due to a random game of who woohoo-ed?! Adriel ended up falling asleep in the hot tub, I guess he figured his spot was pretty solid? House two was even more hectic since Penny, Darius, and Raiden decided to go smoke a little grass. All three of them ended up being high af for the rest of the night. Raiden had a bad reaction and ended up throwing up. Darius sat his ass on the couch and told him to sleep it off- a true bestie. Penny was feeling a bit salty at Darius not responding to her confession so she ignored him and made him jealous by making out with Atlas. Darius had enough of her temper tantrum and pulled her to the side with a surprise gift ;-; Safe to say Penny is no longer mad at him cause she got a designer bag to wipe her tears with. You might be wondering... where the hell was Diego during all of this. Homeboy really said fuck yall this DJ too good and spent the night on the dancefloor ignoring everyone. King shit really. Next post will be the challenge!!

#ts4 #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 #gp2 #gp 2 #gameplay2 #game play 2 #the sims 4 edit #ts4 edit #pennys bc #lmao diego completely ignoring everything is the best thing ever #lol #darius put his brat in place #like okay zaddy

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alwaysanundertone · 5 months ago

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Day 31: masks | poly! marauders

smut

TW: piv, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), hand job, swallowing, spit, masks, anal plug

You were sat on the grass, your back against a large oak tree as you read a romance novel; well, it was more like a smut novel, you swore you had been reading about the protagonist getting railed for the last hour, the scene kept getting better and you couldn’t put down the book even if you wanted to.

Now the main character was being cornered by her masked boyfriend, you had never heard of anything like that, but you found yourself getting wetter by the minute. You shifted your thighs uncomfortably, looking around to make sure nobody could see you. It was stupid, really, even if somebody saw you, how would they know what you were reading? Still, you felt a bit ashamed, now wishing you had stayed inside.

As you went back to your book, you felt a rustling sound, suddenly you were more alert.

“Boo!” You jumped, your novel flying as you gave a stern look to a goofy looking James.

“What the fuck?”

“Aw, look at her, she got so scared!” Sirius was hanging from a low branch, his long hair tickling your nose.

“How the hell did you got up there without me noticing?”

He smirked, kissing your nose. “I’m not gonna tell you, love, but nice try”

Unfortunately for you, you were too engrossed in the conversation with your two boyfriends to notice your third one scanning through the pages of your discarder book, his eyebrows progressively raising. When you saw him it was too late. He gave you a single glance, and you realized that you were thoroughly fucked, your face getting hotter by the minute.

Sirius looked at you confused. “Why are you blushing? What are you looking at- Oh” Slowly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Remus, would you read to us?”

You widened your eyes. “NO! I mean- It’s not even interesting”

“Love, if it wasn’t that interesting, I don’t think you would have disappeared on us for two hours” James pecked your burning cheek. “Come on, moony, tell us what she’s been reading”

You covered your face with your hands, making them chuckle. Remus cleared his voice. “She’s reading some freaky smut, let me tell you. There are masks involved”

Sirius raised his brows. “Oh? Masks?”

“She was pushed to the ground, her naked breasts pressing down on the grass as-“

You quickly gathered your belongings, not wanting to hear the freaky shit you’ve been reading out loud. “I’m gonna go, I have to dress up for the Halloween party, bye bye” You quite literally started running, leaving your book behind.

You adjusted the cat woman mask over your face, you had to admit you’ve done an amazing job: the latex dress hugged every curve, the skirt so short it was a miracle if by the end of the night you wouldn’t have flashed anybody. The heels were as comfortable as six-inch heels get, your hair flowed effortlessly at your every movement. You smiled in the mirror; you were really fucking sexy.

You rushed to the door, whistling at Lily who was waiting for you, dressed as Poison Ivy. She raised a brow.

“You’re the one to talk, look at how hot you are!”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Ugh, stop it you’re looking like a model” She smacked your ass as you both made your way to the Gryffindor common room, where the party had started a while ago, drunk people piling on the couch, couples making out in every corner.

You couldn’t find your boyfriends anywhere, but you didn’t give it much thought, knowing they were usually fashionably late.

As you reached for a drink, you felt your skin start to tingle, like someone was watching you. You turned around quickly, but you didn’t see anyone, just a bunch of teenage guys minding their own business. You tried to brush off the feeling, still something felt slightly wrong, you couldn’t quite explain it.

You let yourself be guided to the dancefloor by Lily, but as the minutes passed by, you found yourself growing impatient, wondering where the hell your lovers ended up. It wasn’t like them to not show up, to leave you waiting like this. The more alcohol you ingested, the more you pretended to not care.

As you downed another vodka shot, you realized you desperately had to pee. You left the dancefloor without telling, heading straight for your room.

Once you opened the door, you were greeted by a firm wall of muscle, a hand sneaking up on your mouth, making you panic.

“Hush now, love, we will play a game” You widened your eyes as Sirius smooth words rolled down his tongue, spoken directly to your ear. You lift up your gaze, seeing who you assumed to be James in a ghost face mask. You felt your panties get uncomfortably wet.

That’s when Remus emerged from the bathroom, wearing a purge glowing mask, his t-shirt already discarded on the floor.

“I bet she’s so fucking wet right now, aren’t you darling?”

Even though you knew that these were your boyfriends, and they preferred dying then hurting you, there was something about those plastic things that scared you a bit, that got your adrenaline pumping. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see their expressions, or maybe it was simply the fact that they tricked you into this situation. Still, the scariness only added to your arousal.

“On your knees, love” You immediately fell, your knee caps hitting the ground. You felt your hair being tugged down, and you were greeted with no one other then Ghost Riley from Call of Duty.

“Hello, love. Take my pants down, will you?” Your eyes shoot to the still open door; he laughed. “Oh, our shy girl, are you scared about being caught?” You nodded. “Then I guess you should put more effort into making me come quicker.”

You immediately worked his belt open, tugging down his jeans and boxers in a swift motion. You held him in your hand as your lips connected to the head of his cock, your lipstick immediately smudging over the fair skin.

Sirius gripped your hair with more force, tugging you down, slightly triggering your gag reflex. As you worked on getting him off, you felt some rustling behind you, then a pair of strong hands was gripping your hips backwords, you felt something probing at your entrance.

“She’s really fucking wet” James exhaled behind you, before pushing it in, your gasp muffled by the soft skin of your boyfriend’s dick.

“Keep fucking her like that, Jamie, she feels heavenly when she moans around my dick”

Ghostface started to pound his hips into you, his hand circling you to press down on your clit, rubbing it raw.

“Give me your hand, darling” Remus was kneeling beside you, his dick pulled out. You wordlessly reached for it, pumping it with your hand as Sirius rutted into your mouth, your throat already feeling raw.

You felt something probing at your ass, making you gasp in surprise before the plug was being pushed into you, adding a new kind of friction that made you see stars.

“Look at you, princess, do you like being filled up like that? Mh?” Remus reached his hand under you, the position a bit awkward but as soon as he pressed down on your lower belly you couldn’t care less, the pressure making you feel stars.

“I’m fucking close” Sirius was panting on top of you, his movements loosing rhythm as you felt him chasing his orgasm. As soon as you cupped his balls, hollowing your cheeks, he shot his load into your throat. “Don’t swallow yet. Open” You did, showing him his cum on your tongue. As soon as he took off his mask you knew what was coming: you saw him collecting spit in his mouth before letting it dribble onto your tongue, his fluids mixing in your mouth. “Swallow” You did, showing him your clean tongue afterwards.

“What a good girl” He worked on the zip of your dress as James kept rutting into you, reaching down to pinch a nipple, making you nearly scream.

“Hush, you’re our fucktoy, remember? You’re going to take what we’re giving you and you’re going to thank us. Come on, princess, say ‘thank you’.”

You felt tears collecting into your eyelids the more overstimulated you got, still you pumped Remus cock. “Thank… you”

He smiled down at you. “That’s a good girl. Going to come on you princess” He did, his seed covering your ass and a bit remaining into your hand; he saw it. “Lick your hand clean, come on now princess”

You searched his gaze, your eyes nearly closing as you balanced yourself on one hand, licking your hand slowly.

Suddenly, all of the stimulation got to you, you clenched impossibly around James’s dick. “Gonna come, fuck, can I come? Please, I’ve been good”

You felt him chuckle. “Yes, you can come darling” As soon as he said the words, you squeezed him impossibly tight, your head spinning as he followed right after you, finishing inside of you. You felt him give a few more thrusts before slowly pulling out, his fingers collecting his cum and pushing it right inside of you, making you whimper pathetically.

James cooed. “I know, darling, I know, you’ve been such a good girl. Gonna take off the plug now. Remus, close the door now”

You widened your eyes, your cheeks getting rosy. Sirius saw that, and he was quick on reassuring you. “Don’t worry love, we casted a spell. No one saw you, we know you don’t want that”

You deflated, letting them scoop you up from the floor, bathing you in hot water. As James lathered soap on you, you let yourself fall against Remus, sighing.

It was Sirius who broke the silence. “Now, tell us that we’re way better than your book boyfriends”

“Fuck off”

KINKTOBER IS OFFICIALLY OVER :( I’m kinda sad about it, yes it was stressing me out a bit but I still enjoyed interacting with you and seeing your appreciation 🩷 Hope you liked it, I’m really proud of myself for not missing a single day tbh🤍🫂

NOW I’M TAKING A WEEK OR TWO OF HIATUS BEFORE POSTING MORE STORIES! If you have some requests send them in, I love receiving them!

taglist: IF YOU WANT TO STAY ON MY TAGLIST AFTER KINKTOBER TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS @consciouscarrot @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 year ago

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The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: thank you so much for all the feedback! I am loving hearing your guys thoughts and I'm having so much fun with this

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring.

Warnings (so far): SMUT (consensual), oral (female receiving), mentions of SA.

Word count: 2730

(all photos are from pinterest)

The following day was another quiet day, and though Rhysand had stayed up with me all night like he promised, I didn’t hear from him in the morning. I avoided my brother at all costs and Lucien as well and spent the morning and afternoon getting ready for the ball at the Autumn Court that would be taking place tonight. I was sure to pick my dress carefully, opting for purple again.

I used to not care for balls, most of the time I would show up and not have anyone to see save for Viviane and Kallias who always had each other to dance with. This of course left me to dance with Lucien or not dance at all. I always left bored and feeling more lonely than I had been before I got there.

I knew tonight would be different not just because of Rhys, but because of Eris. My brother has made it very clear at breakfast that I was to dance and charm Eris all night. The thought made my stomach churn and my eyes water, but I knew better than to disobey.

From the second I walked into the ballroom I could feel Rhysand. The mass of people swirling and dancing around under the gargantuan chandelier made it near impossible for me to find him. I nearly reached out with the bond before my brother grabbed my arm harshly.

“Remember sister, you are to charm Eris whatever means necessary,” he growled in my ear so only I could hear.

“I will, now I’m going to find Viviane.” I glared and sauntered off to do just that.

The ballroom was impossibly packed but finding Viviane’s ice white hair among the crowd was easier than I thought it would be.

“Well you two look amazing,” I beam walking over to where her and Kallias are being wall flowers. Her dress looks like it was made entirely out of frost, and cascades down her body like it was made for her, knowing how Kallias likes to dote on her it probably was.

“Me? Look at you! Purple is your color,” she smiles.

“So, are there any eligible bachelors for me to romance tonight?” I laugh taking her arm and walking around the perimeter of the ballroom with her and Kallias.

“No one worthy of note, but you know how picky I am when selecting a suitable man for you,” she giggles.

“That’s true, you’re a worse critic than I am,” I smile. We promenade around the dancefloor until we run into one of Viviane’s friends and she stops to talk. I take it as my opportunity to glance around the room looking for a particular High Lord and finally I find him.

He’s at the edge of the room wearing black as usual, conversing easily with two Illyrians. Their wings take up most of the space around them. The one with longer hair is obviously drunk as he lets out a laugh that reverberates throughout the room, the one with the shorter hair, swathed in shadows, simply shakes his head and smiles. Rhysand has yet to see me and to draw his attention I give the bond a tug, the first time I’ve ever done it.

His head snaps up in my direction and I see the corner of his mouth curl.

By the cauldron, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, my mate.

“Why thank you my lord, I seemed to remember you had a certain affinity for the color violet,” I muse back to him and I swear from this distance I can see his eyes light up.

The Illyrians next to him turn their heads to look at me, the one with the long hair gives me a knowing smirk and I quickly turn my head back to the conversation Viviane is having.

I hear Rhys chuckle in my head, They don’t bite darling. Well Cassian might, but only if you ask him to. He muses over the bond.

“An interesting proposal, I’ll keep it in mind,” I say back trying to hide my smile.

You little minx.

Before I can say anything back I feel a hand on my back, I turn to find Eris there, a hopeful look in his eye. He takes my hand and kisses it in greeting.

“Y/n, what a pleasure it is to have you in our court.” he smiles.

“Of course, my brother and I were very honored to receive an invitation,” I say, trying to sound as chipper as possible.

“You were the first invite we sent, by now I’m sure your brother has told you of my feelings towards you,” he smirks.

“He has brought them to my attention, and I must say I’m flattered,” I smile.

“Might I have this dance?” he asks, my eyes flit to Rhysand for half a second, but it’s long enough that I can see the rage simmering in those violet eyes.

“Of course,” I say, taking Eris’ hand and allowing him to lead me to the dancefloor. His hand spreads over my waist almost obsessively as we waltz around the room.

“You really are quite the sight to behold y/n, I can see why your brother keeps you locked up in the Spring Court,” Eris praises me.

“I regret that he does so, if I had been allowed out more I would’ve found out much sooner how amazing of a dancer you are,” I smile flirtatiously.

“Among one of my many talents my dear, though you’ll find out soon enough about those,” he whispers in my ear.

We dance on and on swirling about the room to the music. From the corner of my eye I can see Tamilin and Beron watching the two of us and for the first time in a long time Tamlin almost looks happy. However it’s not long until I see his eyes catch on to a beautiful brunette that seems to grab all his attention. My skin starts to buzz again and it isn’t long until a large hand claps Eris on the shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Rhysand asks Eris smoothly. His words say one thing but his eyes look at Eris like he would cut off his hands or other important body parts if he were to say no.

“Of course,” Eris says, passing me off to Rhysand and taking his leave.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” I snap at him.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand to watch another minute of that,” he says cooly.

“Someones jealous,” I muse.

“Very,” Rhysand confesses with a small smile.

As we sweep across the dancefloor, the feeling of his hand on my waist is all too familiar and I can’t help but remember the last time it was there. I look to the side to find the two Illyrains standing at the edge of the ballroom watching us.

“Who did you bring with you tonight?” I ask Rhys.

“My most trusted friends and members of my court, Cassian and Azriel. Azriel is my spymaster and Cassian is the general of my armies.” he explains. “I grew up with them, they are like brothers to me.”

“Do they know?” I inquire further.

“That we’re mates? Yes. I think Cassain would start a war for you already,” he chuckles.

“Interesting, I would’ve thought they’d be upset,” I say, turning my head back towards Rhys.

“You are not my court’s enemy, your brother is. You aren’t damned by association, and besides they are my brothers, they want me to be happy.” Rhys explains further.

“It sounds like you have quite the amazing family,” I acknowledge and he picks up on the longing in my phrase right away. “I doubt I’ll be treated the same here in the Autumn Court.”

“Why would it matter how the Autumn Court treats you?” he questions.

“Because I’m marrying Eris,” I sigh, keeping my head down, unable to meet the sadness I know resides in his eyes now.

“What?” he growls and for the first time since I’ve known him I’m afraid of him.

“My brother has decided to marry me off to Eris for political gain,” I explain further.

Rhys takes my hand and drags me off the dancefloor, at this point people are so drunk they don’t even notice. He leads me to a room off the ballroom and closes the door. I take a moment to look around at the dimly lit study, filled with old books and mahogany furniture. I lean against the desk and look at Rhys.

“You’re not going to marry Eris,” he fumes.

“You say that like I have the option to say no,” I retort as he closes in further.

“If you marry Eris he will destroy you from the inside out, you will become nothing but a breeding vessel to give him sons.” he tells me.

“I’m going to be the same thing to any Lord my brother marries me to,” I sneer at him.

“That’s not true,” Rhysand shakes his head.

“Oh really?” I scoff.

“It wouldn’t be that way with me. You would be my wife, and my High Lady as well as my mate. You wouldn’t have to be sexually assaulted in your own home, or barricade yourself in your room to be safe! You would have rights and freedom and you would have Cassian and Azriel and a family that loves you!” he yells passionately, getting closer to me. “And you would have me, and I would love you too.” he confesses quieter.

A tear slips from my eye as I take in all that he’s said. He looks at me from just an arms length away, waiting for me to say something back.

“Rhysand I can’t-” I start to say.

“Don’t you dare say that you can’t,” he says, stepping forward and caging me into the desk, his mouth dangerously close to my own. “If you were mine there’s not a person in this world that would dare to touch you. You know that.”

I feel a hand go to my waist and he uses the other to wipe the tears from my eye. A different kind of tension fills the room as his breath fans my face leaving kisses where my tears once were.

“Rhys please,” I rasp out lightly pushing him away. His hands on my waist tighten.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now y/n,” he says tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. He’s right, I do want him to kiss me but I can’t even form the words to ask him that. “I thought so,” he says and then his lips are on mine.

I taste all of him and need all of him. He pulls me so close to him I think I might melt into his skin. I throw my hands around his neck like he might be ripped away from me at any given moment. I feel his hands leave my waist and fly to the desk behind me. The next thing I hear is the clattering of glass, books and paper. He lifts me up and places me on the desk positioning his frame between my legs.

“Rhys,” I moan as his lips find my neck.

“I love it when you say my name,” he groans into the kiss, using his body to press my back into the desk and anywhere that isn’t concealed by my dress gets goosebumps from the cold surface. “I need to taste you,” his hands travel down my body and he sinks to his kneels before me, never breaking eye contact.

“What are you doing?” I ask earnestly.

“Have you ever had a man touch you here?” he questions back, his hand ghosting over my clothed core, my breath hitches.

“N-no,” I squeak. He lifts up the many layers of my skirt and bunches them around my waist.

“And have you ever touched yourself here?” he further inquiries rubbing a hand over my undergarments.

I’m too embarrassed to speak, I just give him a shallow nod.

“Probably while you’re reading all those dirty books right y/n darling?” he smirks loving how the pink tints my cheeks. “And do you want me to touch you here?”

I give him another shallow nod.

“I’m gonna need to hear words darling,” he persists.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly I spit out, “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he taunts me.

“Yes I want you to touch me there,” I whine.

He lets loose a feral grin before I feel him gently pull down my undergarments, taking his time to let his fingertips brush down the expanse of both my legs while he does it. He pulls then off over my heels and discards them. I watch him intently as he lowers his mouth to me and licks a long stripe clean up my pussy flicking my clit at the very top. My back arches off the desk and I let out a moan.

“Shhh darling, we can’t have other people knowing what sinful things you’re allowing me to do to you right now. Especially poor Eris, he’ll never get to hear you moan like this for as long as he lives,” Rhys smirks before disappearing under my dress again to feast on me.

My back arches again and my hand flies over my mouth to cover my own moan. I feel Rhysand bring one of his hands up to grasp my free one. A touch so simple, yet so intimate. His tongue swirls hungrily over my clit and it takes everything in me not to scream. I squeeze his hand tighter and he chuckles, sending a vibration through my pussy.

You taste amazing, like you were made for me. He says into my mind.

I squeeze his hand harder at his word. I had spent most of my life reading books about this, sex and romance. I assumed all the women writing them were exaggerating how good it could be. In the spring court it was always seen as a pleasure for the male, not the female. But the way Rhys is using his tongue on me right now, has me seeing stars which I know is no coincidence. His mouth closes around my clit suckling it.

“Rhys,” I breathe out.

Fuck darling. I lied, I like it when you say my name, I love it when you moan it.

“Rhys I’m gonna,” I cry trying to keep quiet.

Cum mate. I want you to cum all over my face. He growls into my mind.

It was almost as if he compelled me to. My back arches off the desk for the final time and I use my hand to stifle any sound that comes out of my mouth. He works me through my orgasm and when my body stops shaking he places one final kiss over my clit. His head pops up from under my skirts, his eyes shown with satisfaction as he licks the remnants of my arousal off his lips.

I was on him before he could even speak, pulling him by his neck and kissing him hard. I fumble for the strings on his pants and he grabs my wrist to stop me.

“No, not tonight,” he states. I immediately feel disappointment, the sedition I felt earlier had long left me the second that man licked his lips.

“Rhys please,” I whine.

“As much as it makes my cock twitch to hear you beg for me, I won’t let the first time I fuck you be on Beron Vanserra’s desk.” he chuckles, and leans in close to my ear. “Because when I’m inside you for the first time my mate I want to hear every strangled cry and moan I pull from your body. And when I cum inside you for the first time I want to hear you scream my name so loud all of Prythian knows just who’s mate you are. Is that clear?”

Butterflies hit my stomach and all I can do is nod slowly every coherent thought in my brain long gone. All I can think of is how badly I want him to make good on his promise.

“Good girl, now let's get your panties back on before a certain High Lord of Spring starts to miss you,” he smiles.

Taglist: Taglist: @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88 , @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris

#rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you

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fayes-fics · 5 months ago

Note

“Something about them.”

Something About Her

Nov 2024 MicroFics Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Authors Note: Hi there! 🫶 Oof ngl, that GIF does things to me lolol. Anyway, here's a spot of romance for ya. Enjoy! 😁🧡🧡

“There's just something about her…” Benedict sighs wistfully as he watches you twirl around the dancefloor in the arms of another man. “She plagues my every waking thought. My dreams, too…”

“Brother, you should tell her,” Colin responds sincerely. “If there is one thing Pen has taught me, it’s to declare how you feel: openly, bravely. ‘Tis more than worth it for the chance she feels the same.”

Benedict nods and clasps a hand around his brother's shoulder in appreciation before taking a deep breath and moving towards you as the current song ends.

“Mr Bridgerton…”

The way your eyes light up as your gaze is drawn to him, your regard wholly on him as the man you were dancing with seems to slope away, buoys him to no end.

“May I have the next dance?” he requests softly, heart in his throat.

“Yes… yes, please.”

The breathy way you respond and the slight tremble in your gloved hand as he takes it in his, makes his inside flutter that maybe, just maybe, you feel the same.

No taglist as these are microfics

Send me a number and I’ll write a micro-story using the word or phrase [not open to more]

#faye answers #ask games #microfic ask game #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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backtothefanfiction · 8 days ago

Text

Emergency Contact | Professor!Parker

Summary: a drunken night at a bar leads to an unexpected saviour.

Warnings: 18+ Only, drunken escapades, smut, oral (f receiving), playful banter, fluff, forbidden romance

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: this has been a long time coming but it’s finally here. Thank you @sincericida for that latest professor Parker picture post, it was the final incentive I needed to get this finished. I finished this and am posting it from my phone so haven’t sorted a tag list sorry, so be sure to reblog if this is your bag to help reach everyone who loves Professor!Parker! Thank you, enjoy!

Three

Standing in the queue for the bathroom, you knew that last drink had probably been one too many. Finally sat staring at the back of the cubical door you figured maybe it wasn’t the last one, but maybe two. Washing your hands in the sink, unable to keep eye contact with yourself in the mirror, you know it was actually three- but it was too late now, the damage was done, you just had to hope you could see through the rest of the night with your friends and get home safely.

But when you got back from the bathroom you couldn’t find them. You checked the bar, the dancefloor- even the outside smoking area, they definitely weren’t here anymore. Uhhh fuck!

As you stumbled back towards the bar one last time, your eyes glassy, limbs wobbly and head foggy, you weren’t even sure you had looked properly or not, but either way, you were way too drunk now to care.

“Hey, hey. You alright?” Someone asked as you swayed slightly and bumped into them.

“Yeah… No.” your lipped wobbled as you tried to focus on the kind eyes of the stranger. “I’ve lost my friends and I’m way too drunk and they were my ride and I’m all out of money and don’t know what to do.” You began to ramble, a sense of hopelessness and panic setting in.

“Okay, okay, alright, alright, don’t cry. Let me help you. Is there someone I can call? Do you have an emergency contact set up or something?” He asked as you got out your phone and began to fumble with it but you really couldn’t focus on the phone. Gods you felt awful. Who let you drink this much?

“Here, let me. Who do you want to call?” He asked as he held your phone up to your face to unlock it for you and immediately got up your contacts.

“Uhh I don’t know!!” You groaned frustratedly as he began to scroll through your contacts looking for an indicator in their listed name as to how helpful they would be.

His thumb quickly stopped the scrolling text on the screen- you were only half focused on- as he spotted a note next to a name and immediately hit dial. As he held the phone to his ear, you once again groaned and flopped into the nearby wall in frustration, your eyes growing heavy. You just wanted to sleep.

“Hi… yeah no I’m with her at the Lavender Room… no her friends abandoned her and in her phone it says to call this number in case of- yeah.” You had no idea who he’d called and who he was talking to. You were just glad he was a decent person and hadn’t tried taking advantage of you. Gosh you were so gonna kill your roommate when you found her.

“Okay- yeah, I’ll wait with her outside.” The stranger said before he hung up the phone. “Your boyfriend or whatever is coming to get you.” He said loudly over the music to you to get your attention as he handed your phone back to you.

“My boyfriend?” You frowned because as far as you knew you didn’t have one of those.

“I mean friend or whatever. I dunno it had hearts next to the name and said call in case of emergency so I just assumed.”

Hearts next to their name. Call in case of emergency? What was this guy on about? You didn’t have anyone like that in your contacts.

“Come on. Have you got all your stuff? I told him I’d wait with you outside for him to pick you up.”

What? Who the hell had he called? Who was picking you up? Your thoughts wrestled with themselves all missed hits and thumbs as you were guided outside into the cool night air, the sounds of drunken revellers on the street around you only adding to the haze.

You weren’t left to stand there with your would be rescuer for long, but still long enough that a chill set into your skin and small bumps of goose flesh to pop up on the tops of your arms and backs of your thighs. The fresh air also wasn’t helping your situation. If you had felt drunk before when inside, you really thought you were gonna black out now, your eyes growing heavy as you waited.

You didn’t even open them at the sound of the car door that opened and slammed. “Gareth, right?” A familiar voice carried through the air to you but your brain was functioning way too slow to pin point who it belonged to.

“Yeah.” The man stood beside you answered, as you fought to open your eyes and work out why that voice sounded so familiar.

“Thanks for calling.” The voice said.

“No problem.”

“I got her from here.” The voice said as your vision finally focused and you were met with the gaze of your favourite Professor. You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face and the glow that emanated from your chest and cheeks at seeing him. “Come on Trouble, let’s get you in the car and get you home.”

“Wait-“ you said hesitantly as you let him lead you a couple steps forward to the awaiting car at the side of the road as your earlier questions were finally getting answers. “Did you make yourself my emergency contact in my phone?”

“Yes, I did, now get into the car.” He said slightly impatiently.

“But I-“

“Y/N get into the car.” He said firmly but not threateningly. He very rarely used your name unless in formal situations and although you wanted to continue pressing him on this issue, you knew out here in the open for everyone to see you both was not the best place- even if your drunken brain wasn’t working properly and really didn’t care. But a twisting feeling of fear in your gut moved you forward and you climbed into the passenger seat as he went to the driver's side door.

“Don’t do that.” He said as your fingers reached to roll down the window, “it’ll only make you feel worse.”

You groaned but relented, words not reaching your lips as you instead let your head fall against the cool glass of the window as he started the car.

You knew his place wasn’t far from here, but somehow you still managed to drift off in the passenger seat, only stirring when the engine cut out. You tried to fight off the heaviness in your limbs as you listened to him get out of the car. You only just managed to channel enough energy into your limbs in order for you to stop yourself from falling out of the car when he opened the passenger door.

“I think someone might have spiked my drink.” You said to him as he reached into the car to help you up.

“Trouble,” his voice chastised you, “if someone had spiked your drink, you wouldn’t be conscious enough to even tell me you thought someone spiked your drink.” He reasoned, lifting you from the car and into his arms. “I think you are just good old fashioned drunk.” A slight amusement tinged his words.

You groaned again as you let him fold you into his side. His warmth radiating through you.

“I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well, help me get you upstairs and into bed and you can sleep to your hearts content.” You could hear the teasing smile in his tone and it melted your heart. You were a damsel in distress and he came running to save you like your very own white knight.

“Mmmm I love you.” You mumbled as you let your head rest against his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know.” He said with a slight chuckle, dismissing your drunken confession before you could dig yourself more of a hole.

You felt the temperature change around you as you made your way inside, your legs wobbling with every step. Your eyes struggled to focus, the white walls of the apartment block hallways too blinding and bright. You practically tripped up the last step as he guided you to his floor and he caught you before you could go flying into the door.

“Just come here.” He said with a slight huff as he propped the door open with his body and you stumbled into the door frame.

“My legs won’t work.” You moaned like a child.

“Yeah, I can see that.” He joked. “Come here.” He said and you leaned your body back towards him. He lifted you quickly and with ease, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders to keep yourself upright.

Now in the safety of his arms you let your body relax, your eyes closing as you nuzzled yourself against his neck. You let the scent of him envelope you. It felt so familiar now and made you feel safe and before you knew it you were falling asleep again.

————————————————————————————

You woke the following morning with your head protesting and your tongue feeling like sandpaper. You tried to find any moisture in your mouth to swallow it away, but it was a completely failed mission. Your mouth wasn’t the only thing that was dry. Your eyelids felt fused to your eyeballs and just the idea of opening them felt like the same amount of energy needed to climb Mount Everest.

Instead you let your hands be your guide. You spread them out around you, trying to feel out your surroundings. When your hand searched to its left and you felt the bed keep going you knew you weren’t back at your place.

“Uuuhhhggg.” You groaned as you reluctantly sat yourself up, your fingers rubbing desperately at your eyes so you could see where you actually were. Trying to recall the events at the end of last night felt like a blur. You had a vague recollection of coming out of the bathroom and talking to a guy at the bar, but nothing was really clear. You just hoped to all Gods right now you weren’t waking up in a stranger's bed.

When your eyes finally adjusted to the light of the room you felt a wave of relief move through you as you recognised the familiar view of Peter’s room.

“Ahhh sleeping beauty is finally awake I see.” He mused, as he made his way back into the room.

“Uuuhhhh, what time is it?” You asked as you began to look around for your phone.

“Your phones on charge in the living room.” He supplied for you, knowing your routine so well now after weeks of you having sleep overs at his place. “And it’s almost half 1.” He added, answering your original question.

“How long have you been up?” You asked, your voice raspy and your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth.

He slowly pointed to your right and you followed his direction to find a glass of water on the bedside table waiting for you.

“A couple hours.” He said.

“Uhhhg, you had breakfast without me didn’t you.” You said, slightly resentfully.

Weekend breakfasts had become your thing. It was the only food Peter felt confident enough to cook for you. His main meals consisted mostly of sandwiches or ready meals and frozen pizza, so cooked breakfasts on a Sunday morning were his equivalent of a nice meal for you both. After all, with your relationship a secret, he couldn’t very well just take you out to a fancy restaurant whenever he wanted.

“Yes. But I can still cook you something up. Why don’t you go take a shower and freshen up while I get everything on the go.”

“Okay.” You agreed as he turned and left the room and you gingerly pulled yourself from beneath the bed covers and dragged yourself into his en-suite.

The hot steam worked wonders on your sinuses and as you scrubbed your body with his lemon grass and sandalwood body wash, the fog in your head began to lighten too. As you lifted your foot to scrub between your toes you spotted a faint bruise across the top of them, the memory of kicking the top step in the stairwell slowly returning to you. As you continued to wash the suds from your skin, you followed that memory like a ball of yarn, connecting the dots from the night before.

He had come and picked you up. There was a guy at the bar. Your friends left you.

You pulled yourself from the shower, wrapping a warm towel around your body before going back out into his bedroom to get dried and dressed. You spotted your phone on the bedside table next to the glass of water, which you chugged down now in desperation to quench your thirst.

Your phone. The guy had called him from your phone, you remembered as you picked it up and turned it on. You immediately spotted multiple messages from your roommate wondering where you were and asking you to call her the moment you could, but you swiped past them, seeking out what it was you were truly looking for. Your contacts.

You scrolled down until you found what you were looking for. 💕PBT💕 (ICE). You smiled PBT, Professor Brat Tamer. ICE, In Case of Emergency. You had seen the term knocking about online but had never actually thought to put it next to anyone’s names. Your parents were in your phone as Mum and Dad respectively, clear indicators to anyone of their importance to you. But they were also half way across the country from you now you were at college and no good to anyone if there was a real emergency.

“You changed your name in my contacts.” You said as you came out of his bedroom dressed in a pair of his boxers and a T-shirt a few minutes later, the smell of toast and eggs permeating the open living kitchen space that made up the rest of the one bed apartment,

“I did.” He confirmed, turning his body towards you, a wooden spoon in his hand. “And good thing I did too.” He added as you moved towards his fridge in a hunt for orange juice.

“When did you do that?” You asked as you grabbed a glass from the cupboard to pour your drink into.

“A couple days ago. Surprised you didn’t notice sooner.”

“I normally just look for the hearts,” you admitted as you took a seat at the small dining table to watch him as he finished up your food. “I mean, your the only person in my contacts with hearts next to their name.”

There was a beat of silence between you as he began to plate up your food and you finally responded to your roommates earlier messages.

“How’s your head?” He asked as he placed the plate of eggs, sausage and mushrooms in front of you.

“It’s been better.” You said.

“It’s a sign you’re getting older.” He chastised as he brought his own plate of toast over. “You should wait until you get to my age. The hangovers get significantly worse.”

“So that gives me about… 8 years before I’m classed as old.” You mused and he chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. Eat your eggs. They’re getting cold.”

“Okay, Dad.” You sassed before taking a forkful of egg into your mouth.

“Hey, less of that.” He chastised playfully,

“What? You made yourself my emergency contact, brought me home and put me to bed and then made me breakfast when I woke up. Seems like something a Dad would do to me.” You said, poking the bear.

“Really? Well I don’t think your Dad would touch you like this while you’re eating said breakfast, do you?” He said, leaning forward and placing his hand on your bare knee, before running it up the length of your thigh and cupping your sex. “You know what’s really good for curing headaches?” He asked, his fingers slowly beginning to circle your covered clit.

“No.” You exhaled slowly, your fingers losing their grip on the cutlery in your hands as your whole body relaxed under his touch.

“Orgasms.” He said, his eyes narrowing on yours hungrily.

“How so?” You asked, both playing along but also interested to know how he came to that conclusion.

“It’s just science. Orgasms flood your brain with good endorphins which in turn relax your muscles in your body, including your brain,” he said tapping a finger to your forehead whilst his other hand continued to make dizzying circles between your legs, “thus alleviating the tension and ridding you of your headache,” he said confidently and you had to admit, his logic was rather compelling. “And failing that,” he said, as he pushed his chair back and began to get down on his knees between your open legs, “it’s just a good distraction to take your mind off of it,”

You hummed contented, almost purring like a cat as you felt the familiar touch of his fingertips slide up the length of your thighs, before hooking into the waistband of the underwear and pulling them down. Your hips lifted instinctively to allow him to do so easily. As he rid you of the pants, his fingers tossing them away somewhere across the floor. You shuffled the chair back further from the table, your breakfast completely forgotten about as you shifted forward on the seat of the chair to give him easy access.

You continued to hum in delight as he immediately began feasting between your legs, his tongue and lips skillfully pulling one contented sigh after another from your lips. Your head tipped back, your fingers moving to card through his fluffy hair and keep him in place.

Before long your knees were shaking and you were making a terrible mess on his seat. “How’s your head now?” he asked as he looked up at you, his fingers wiping the remnants of your orgasm from his beard.

“I don’t know,” you said playfully, “I think it’s still there. Maybe another one…?” You teased and he laughed.

“Finish your breakfast,” he said, getting up from the floor, “give the medicine a chance to work and then maybe,” he said, grabbing for a triangle of buttered toast from your plate and placing it in his mouth, “maybe, we can up the dosage,” he concluded, biting into the slice of bread with a wink. “Oh- but only if you’ve finished that essay I set.” he added as he began to walk back to the kitchen to wash up and groaned. You knew the afternoon had seemed too good to be true.

#peter parker #andrew!peter parker #professor!peter Parker #professor Parker #tasm!peter #tasm peter parker #peter parker smut #andrew!peter x reader #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker imagine #professor!au

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actuallysaiyan · 2 months ago

Note

21 with toshi as the rusty one maybe 👀

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, virginty loss, alcohol mention, oral sex(fem receiving)| dividers: @/adornedwithlight

He was dreading this. Valentine’s day was coming and he didn’t have a date…once again. It didn’t matter all that much to him when he was the Number One, but now that he was retired and just teaching, he was starting to see how it would be nice to have a Valentine’s date.

Yet, he was so fucking rusty with dating and intimacy and romance. How would he even be able to woo someone if he didn’t know the first thing about romance? The last time he was even close to someone like this was when he was in America and he and Dave had a few dates or that Dave would set him up with a few friends.

Toshinori was at a loss. Who could he even ask to help him out with something like this? Just the thought of asking for help makes him feel so woozy and ashamed. Here he was, in his late fifties, going to ask one of his colleagues for some help on how to date.

When you walked into the teacher’s lounge, you noticed just how concerned he looked. You sit down next to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. Toshinori jumps in surprise and he gives you a very shy smile.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Toshinori coughs and laughs nervously. “Nothing important.”

“Nonsense! Come now, you can tell me.”

You finally coax it out of him. He’s blushing and looking away ashamed as he explains to you his predicament. You beam at the idea of being able to help your older colleague on how to woo someone.

“Let’s go on a date then, yeah?!”

He’s blushing even more. “N-no, we don’t need to. I’m sure you have someone to go with on Valentine’s day.”

You giggle. “Nah, nobody asked me. It would be fun to go with you.”

Though you’re both super nervous about everything, the date goes off without a stitch. It’s so sweet and fun. Toshinori does his best to woo you. And he surprises you with his dance moves on the dancefloor. You have a few drinks in you, making you feel a little more lustful for the older man.

By the time it’s last call, he’s walking you home. You’re wondering how someone like him could even be considered rusty in love. He’s very charming and so damn sexy. Though you’re sure he probably doesn’t even consider himself to be either of those things.

“Wanna come inside?” You ask, a little tipsy at this point. “Don’t I have to give you pointers on intimacy now?”

He shakes his head. “No, no please…the date was enough.”

But you grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him hungrily. Your true feelings were spilling out and Toshinori realized that he might be way in over his head. Not because the affection wasn’t welcomed, but because he was quite taken with you. If he continued this, he knew he’d be falling even harder for you.

When you pull him into your bedroom, he kisses you this time. He’s trying to take the lead, but it’s hard. He feels so clumsy with his long limbs and big hands. It’s almost like you’re too tiny for him, but you certainly aren’t complaining one bit.

He crawls on top of you, kissing you deeply. His tongue slides into your mouth, which surprises you both. It feels good to just make out and grind against one another like two horny teenagers trying to figure out how sex works. When you pull away, there’s a string of saliva connecting you both.

“I’ve got condoms in the drawer,” you point to the bedside table. “Not sure if I have your size though.”

This makes the older man blush. “What…what do you mean?”

You reach down to grab onto his bulge and you palm him through his dress pants. Toshinori growls excitedly as you touch him like this. He looks into the drawer for the condoms, but as expected, they aren’t his size.

“Looks like you’ll just have to go in raw.”

This excites him like nothing else. With renewed passion, Toshinori undresses you and spreads your thighs. He devours you like a starved man, making you come undone so beautifully under him. He could watch you come over and over and he swears he’d never get sick of it.

Once he’s balls deep inside of you, he surprises you once more with his stamina and strength. For a man who was tipping more towards the GILF terrirory, he was rocking your world. You cling to him as he pounds himself into you. And when you’re spent and his orgasm hits him hard, he pulls out and spills all over your mound. You’ve never seen someone come this much before.

“Heh,” you breathe out as you lay on his chest after he helped you clean up. “You sure you were really rusty?”

He bashfully looks at you. “I haven’t…that was my first…”

Your eyes widen. Did you just deflower the former Number One hero?

#bacon.writes #toshinori x reader #toshinori x you #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi x you #all might x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #yagi toshinori x you #mha toshinori #bnha toshinori #8k followers event

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uglypastels · 10 months ago

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Ridlington Park | II | Eddie Munson regency!au

Dear reader, my sincerest apologies for the delay in the upcoming chapter. It seems that there had been some technical problems at the printer's shop and some terrible time management on this writer's part. Before we resume this tale of love, however, I would also like to thank all who have read the first chapter and shared their thoughts on it with not only me but others. Know that your support does not go unnoticed, and I cherish it with all my heart.

Word Count: 8.1k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. family disputes. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works.

The Ridlington Park Collection | Correspondence | Join the Taglist - Read Chapter 1 here -

Chapter Two: A Time for Scandal

“At a private ball, no lady will refuse an introduction to a gentleman. It is an insult to her hostess, implying that her guests are not gentlemen. It is optional with the lady whether to continue to drop the acquaintance after the ball is over, but for that evening, however disagreeable, etiquette requires her to accept him for one dance, if she is disengaged, and her hostess requests it.” - The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, 1873

The Royal family's return to London brings a new life to the city each year as its elite congregates fervently for all possible occasions. The notable number of balls, soirees, and other social gatherings mark a particularly eventful point in the year that no eager lady or gentleman would want to miss. And whilst the matchmakings occupy most thoughts, this motivation somewhat overshadows the mere social aspect of the season. The parties offer the perfect meeting ground for all ton members, as they can indulge in all the niceties the hosts provide. Whether it be the music, magnificent foods and drinks, or simply pleasant conversation. To miss a social event, especially for a debutante such as yourself, Dear Reader, is to miss an opportunity to present oneself to her suitors and the entire town. It is to miss the happenings that drive the whole court forward.

Thus, you were obligated to accept every single invitation presented to you and your family. And as spectacular as they all were, weariness settled deep in your bones with each new event. No matter how lavish, it all began to blur together into one repetitive pattern.

Each time, you would find yourself atop a grand staircase, your family trailing behind, as the earlier arrivals looked up in awe and envy. With a shaky breath and a tremble to the hand holding your skirt, you descended the steps onto the dancefloor, where a wonderful yet pesky gentleman awaited to greet you. If fortune were in their favour, they would even gather in a pack, making you the bearer of choice who to greet first, whose offer for refreshment to accept, and whose signature to claim on your dance card in which order. Meanwhile, your mother gawked in a nearby distance with a smile stretching for miles, already planning what cakes to ask the chef about for the next morning’s calling hour.

The lights around you sparkled wonderfully, and you could not deny that Lord and Lady Parsnell had outdone themselves for their annual ball. Theirs was a particularly beautiful ballroom, with windows covering the entirety of the large west wall. It overlooked the gardens illuminated with lanterns of all colours, and the room was in an everlasting golden glow. The music played from the far right corner, where the musicians were located on their platform, all dressed in elaborate costumes and wigs, completely painted in bronze to imitate the likeness of statues and as the bypassing guests were gawking up at them, you felt a twinge of a connection between yourself and the talent across the room.

‘Would you care to dance, miss?’ one of the gentlemen asked, and as you could not find a single polite response in your entire vocabulary, you opted for a kind smile as you extended your hand in agreement.

As with all the others, this was making itself out to be a long and dreadful evening.

On your way to the centre of the floor to join all the other couples, you caught a glimpse of your oldest brother, Nicholas. To no one’s surprise, he had found himself in deep conversation with a young lady dressed in a gorgeous sea-blue dress, a fan to match fluttering purposefully over her bosom. For the entirety of the dance, you kept your eyes on the two of them. No matter how lacking intellectual stimulation your brother’s endeavours may be, they forever remained more fascinating than anything your dance partner had to offer. You only turned your attention to the man at the harsh sound of his laugh. It appeared he had been entertaining himself with his jokes for the duration of the waltz. This and how he slurred you around the room, practically dragging your limbs behind him, made you doubt you were very needed at that moment.

Finally, the music slowed, and you were released from Lord Bramley's harsh hold on your hands. You bid him farewell with a respectable curtsy and walked away before the man could utter another word, let alone request another dance. As you walked off the floor, a most horrid apparition revealed itself in the corner of your eye in the shape of another available man in conversation with your mama. Too occupied by the gentleman, she had not noticed you to have finished your dance, and so you saw the opportunity to make yourself scarce in the crowd, at least for the moment.

‘You cannot hide forever.’ A hum more irritating than a critter tickled at your ear as your second brother, Christopher, appeared by your side at the confectionery table.

‘I certainly can try, can I not?’ you grinned, tasting the icing on a strawberry cake.

‘Because we know how well that turned out for you the last time,’ he reminded you. All you could do was grin at him maliciously as you thought back to the day when—

❀❀❀

Your mother had lovingly retrieved you from the stables as you had attempted to escape one of your family’s countless matchmaking attempts. And while the man you had met, Mr Steve Harrington, had turned out to be quite pleasant, you still struggled to relive the embarrassment of being hunted down by your mother through the garden. Not to mention the judgment of your siblings the very next day at breakfast as you learned they had been told all of what had occurred the day prior.

You walked into the room with an appetite that disappeared as soon as you saw the amusement on your family’s faces and heard the hushed tones with which they spoke as you found your seat. Perhaps if they had been more straightforward, you could have endured it, but they all remained silent as they watched you take your pick of the food, portioning it onto your plate at your own pace. Only as you took your first bite did the first words erupt, nearly leading you to choke.

‘Your lunch with Harrington went well, I take it?’ Nicholas asked, much to his amusement.

‘What makes you say that?’ you asked, answering with your own question, with no intention of looking your family in the eye as you did.

‘Mother has just caught us up with the events of yesterday afternoon,’ your brother stated, his enthusiasm in stark contrast to your discomfort at the moment.

‘I cannot see how there was much to speak of.’ You tore off another piece of the toast with your teeth. ‘It was dreadful.’

‘Dreadful, you say,’ Christopher snickered, barging into the conversation, as unwelcome as the rest, ‘it is not the word I would use, given what we have heard.’

‘Please enlighten me, then, brother? What do you deem an appropriate summary given what I can only assume was mother’s thoroughly accurate recount of what happened?’ You could imagine that she had embellished aspects of the day to fit her narrative; one that most definitely would not suit your future objectives in any way. Truly, since when had the breakfast meal also become the time for your entire family to torture you? It seemed that any moment you all found yourselves in one place, it was deemed the designated time for inquiries regarding your prospects.

‘I had only told them that you seemed to have rather enjoyed yourself with Mr Harrington,' your mother said nonchalantly as if she had not just struck you with a verbal mallet over the head.

‘Mother!’ you said with a frozen-in-shock expression, but your mother only blinked slowly in bewilderment. You blinked slowly as well. ‘How could you?’

‘Is that an offence to say these days?’ She replied, chuckling, underestimating the damage she had caused with that simple phrase. You had rather enjoyed yourself with Mr Harrington. The string of simple words opened the floodgates that until then kept back the unwanted commentary of your siblings, in particular, the vaunting of Nicholas, who had pridefully acclaimed the matchmaking between you and Mr Harrington to himself and would not let anyone forget that for the rest of the meal or the hours, even days, after—

❀❀❀

But you were happy to put all this far behind you. No matter how keen your siblings or parents were to return to that day, you were not one to dwell in the past. You looked forward. More specifically, right ahead of you, where there seemed to be a clear exit route in the form of a pair of large oaken doors—like a gleaming, delicious yet forbidden fruit tormenting you from a distance. You shook the silly thought out of your mind, returning your attention to Christopher, who indulged himself in a puff pastry delicacy.

‘Can you blame me, brother, for acting out after having endured an entire day of the most monotonous, unspirited, and, dare I say, upright dull conversation a man has to offer?’ You watched Christopher pick up a glass of wine, quickly grabbing it out of his hands to consume the drink yourself, leaving him, in turn, in a slightly shocked state of confusion.

He blinked slowly and sighed. ‘You do not have to explain yourself to me, and I hope you do recognise that,’ he said as he watched you finish the last drops of his wine. ‘I am merely suggesting that if you know what is good for you, you will open yourself up to these opportunities, as by defying, you will only end up causing yourself more harm.’

Now it was your turn to heave out a heavy and tired breath. You put the glass down, perhaps a bit too harshly, as the thud against the table spurred on a few looks from the ladies around you, but you were too occupied with your brother’s words. He was right, of course, on both accounts. Of all your siblings, Christopher was most like yourself, never entirely understanding the need for marriage. Of course, as a male and a second-born son, he had no such obligation or needs to fulfil. It was perfectly well for him to remain a bachelor for as long as he pleased, not to mention pursue any interests he might have.

Meanwhile, all of these “opportunities” you had that he spoke of were in matters of either matchmaking or to enhance your appeal for such exact situations. Yes, you had a more than fortunate education. You spoke various languages, understood maths and geography, could play the pianoforte prettily, perform any dance in your sleep, and occupy yourself with perfectly fine needlework. But it was disheartening, as at the end of the day, all these accomplishments were meant as nothing more than to advertise yourself to men who could not care one bit for any of it as long as your face and body were adequate for their tastes.

But you also knew, through your assumptions and fair warnings from others, that if you were not to find a husband yourself, someone else would do so for you, and a last resort comes to be just that for apparent reasons but ones you would rather not familiarise yourself with.

‘Do not tell me I have managed actually to silence you and put a stop to your wit.’ Christopher chuckled.

‘You wish,’ you responded, possibly proving his point. Meanwhile, another song began to play as more couples took to the floor. Your eyes immediately examined the room for any threats of men reaching for your hand for a dance, particularly a certain Mr Bridgerton, who you read to have claimed a spot on your dance card.

‘Rules are rules,’ Christopher sang teasingly as he saw you check the card tied around your wrist. ‘You cannot deny a gentleman’s—’ but he never entirely managed to finish his sentence as he watched you tug at the ribbon connecting you to the list of men waiting for a dance. The material tightened, most likely leaving a nasty red line across your arm as you pulled and pulled until—snap—you broke free. The piece of paper fell to the floor.

‘Oh my!’ You covered your mouth in faux-wide-eyed perplexity as you kicked the discarded card behind a large potted plant, far into the forgotten shadows of the room. ‘How can I remember the gentlemen’s names whom I have promised a dance now?’

Against his better judgement, your brother cracked a smile, ‘I can tell you now, you will regret doing that.’

‘Somehow, I rather doubt that,’ you twirled your wrist, enjoying how freeing it felt not to be tied up any longer.

‘The second that mother finds you without that silly little thing around your hand, you will sing a different tune, sister.’ He finally took another glass of wine, cheering you on, ‘And do not come crying to me about it when that happens.’ The large chug he took was anything but galant. Still, it was his final act before he bid you farewell and left you at the confectionary table to fend for yourself. You had not expected the doubt to settle as quickly as it did, but perhaps the lack of a big brother-shaped guard dog by your side made you feel abnormally self-conscious. For a moment, you considered running after Christopher, but from what you could see through the crowd, he had quickly crossed the room and was already entertaining his friends—each of them a gentleman you were attempting to ignore.

Things only seemed to be taking a turn for the worse when you picked up a foreign accent which deafened all others around you.

Harrington.

You cursed to yourself, quickly turning around to face the tables. What on earth was this man doing here? The Parsnell family was ever the charitable one, but never in the matters of their parties. You could not imagine what would make them want to invite some foreign merchant’s son.

Well, the answer was simple. It was the same as any other question regarding Steve Harrington and his actions towards you. It must have been your eldest brother’s doing, of course. It was all Nicholas from the very beginning, and he would not let you forget it ever since that breakfast the day after you met with the American—-

❀❀❀

‘I knew it from the moment I met the good man; you would make a perfect pair.’ He said as he sat across from you in the drawing room, feet hanging over the couch’s armrest.

‘And how, pray tell, could you predict this exactly?’ You rolled your eyes. While most often, it was Nicholas who attempted to drown out your voice through the words on a page, it was your turn that day to try to ignore his rambling.

‘As much as you would like to think better of yourself,’ Nicholas leaned forward, more than happy to keep talking about the subject, mainly if it covered a topic that could humble you: ‘the truth is that you are as shallow as the rest of us, sister, not to mention as easy to read on the subject of these matters as everyone else.’

‘Even if I had such biases, I would not share them with you,’ you scoffed, flipping an unread page.

‘There was no need for that explicitly, I have conducted my research and come to the right conclusions, have I not?’ It was impossible to wipe the smug smile off his face; you knew that by now, and yet…

‘If you do not shut your mouth this instant, I swear, I will throw this book at you,’ you threatened, putting the book you had occupied yourself with over your head.

‘You are only this upset because you know I am right.’ Nicholas gloated, but you were happy to see him tense up in the shoulders as you began aiming the book in his direction. Not that you would actually throw it… just yet. A lady can do heinous things if pushed far enough, and you felt yourself standing on the edge.

‘I know that you are being completely maddening.’ You dropped the book in your lap. ‘And must be mad if you think I am in love with this man. He was a pleasant conversation partner, that is all. I assume mother has been deprived of social engagements for far too long, if she thinks me laughing at this man’s jests is enough for there to be an engagement already.’ Harrington’s jokes had been funny, you had to admit, but it must have been a joke from the powers above that sent the following footman into the room in that instance, announcing a gift had been left for you at the door.

Before you could say anything, Nicholas requested it to be brought into the room. From the irrepressible smirk on his face, he seemed to have an edge of knowledge on you on what was about to be presented through that door in the following moments.

And indeed, not much later, the man returned holding an oversized vase filled with flowers—a bouquet of colours combined into a lovely smell overpowering your senses.

You said nothing as you walked up to the table where the heavy gift was set, but your lips could not help but part in surprise. You noticed the paper sticking out from between the buds and gently pulled it out.

See these flowers as a token of my appreciation for thy hospitality and benignity.

Sincerest greetings,

S.H.

You groaned out, reading the words. ‘You are despicable, brother!’ Nicholas, who had been reading along with you from behind your shoulder, quickly stepped aside as you turned his way, ‘You set him up to do this.’ the accusation came out of your mouth like venom.

‘I did no such thing.’ But his smile remained easy to read. Although… was it a remnant of his earlier pride, or did he see the flowers as yet another gratification for his unbearable attitude?

‘But you did! It has your grimy hands written all over it.’ You flicked the paper in his face. How many times had you seen your brother write notes to the ladies he attempted to court or send out servants to pick flowers from the garden? ‘Did you scheme this whole thing out on the boat on your way home?’ You could already see it all so clearly. The two of them standing in a corner of the ship, your brother acting like a snake charmer, teaching Harrington everything for him to win you over. It all left a rather sour taste in your mouth.

‘I promise you, I had nothing to do with this.’ He glanced at the flowers, ‘but you must admit that the man has a great taste.’

‘Yes, I am sure his servant has great botanical knowledge. Do you think me to be so dense that I would expect the man to do this all by himself?’

‘You cannot make me believe you were not impressed for even a moment?’ Nicholas argued. You glared at him, eyes formed into narrow poisonous slits, but in the end, all you could emanate from your mouth was another angry groan. Feeling hopeless, you let your body guide you back to the chaise across the drawing room. The smell of the flowers seemed to linger on despite your effort to distance yourself.

‘So you are to say that you have no feelings for Harrington? What so ever?’ Nicholas trotted behind you, taking the seat next to you.

‘No more than I have for you at the moment,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Ah, so you do love him!’

‘Ugh,’ you exclaimed—

❀❀❀

Much as you did when you suddenly felt a presence behind you calling your name. To compose yourself in the crowd and avoid further embarrassment for anyone, you quickly turned back around to face the man approaching you. However, by doing so, your sudden movement caused a chain reaction in the glass you had just reached for, spilling all its content on your person.

‘Mr Harrington!’ You gasped. However, any possible enthusiasm you might have felt for the man’s presence was overtaken by the shock as your bodice soaked in the cold beverage, knowing that the material of your dress was gaining more damage with each passing second. Of course, a handful of people nearby stopped what they were doing to gawk at what surely must be a rather embarrassing moment between a young lady and a suitor she was attempting to seduce.

‘Miss Byrnwick,’ Harrington jumped into action, ‘let me find you a maid.’ Within another second, he had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to cry in shame at your brother’s side—your brother, Nicholas, who did not seem one ounce affected by your dramatics.

‘Have you no shame?’ he asked between tight lips, leaning in your direction to avoid the eager ears of the nearby audience.

‘Oh, brother, I have only begun.’ You smiled with a whisper before taking a step back, and another, until your back was met with the soft texture of the cake placed directly behind you. How ridiculous of you to have forgotten.

You cried out.

‘There there, sister,’ Nicholas failed to find a single sincere vocal cord from what it seemed. ‘Let us get you cleaned up.’ He reached for your arm, smiling at a hoard of ladies standing a few feet away, but you quickly pulled away.

‘Do not be ridiculous, my dress is in ruins!’ You did anything but shout. Anyone paying attention, and by this point, this had included the majority of the gathering, would be no fool to expect your eyes to be on the verge of tears as you attempted to cover yourself up to no avail. Why, after this fiasco, no one could blame you for making a swift departure out of the ballroom.

That is nearly nobody, for your mother caught you just as you were about to exit.

‘Dearest, what has happened to your dress?’ Her face showed an awkward smile filled with concern, but you knew that not that deep inside, she was raging with fury as she took in your state.

‘It was an accident, mama.’ You sniffed, wiping at your dry cheeks. ‘Now, will you excuse me? I would like to go home, please.’

In this instance, with more and more people collecting around you to look at and their whispered words making their rounds around the room faster than the country dance performed just moments ago, there was very little your mother could do. After a final look around the room in hopes of finding a suitable reason for you to stay, yet failing to do so, she had no choice but to let you go.

‘Let me at least find one of your brothers to escort you,’ your mother sighed in defeat.

‘I am perfectly capable of going home by myself, mother.’ You resumed taking steps toward the doors, their appeal practically pulling at your feet eagerly. ‘And besides, I will not be alone. I will have the carriage driver for company.’ This did not make your mother any more confident in the situation, but both your brothers also appeared to have vanished into thin air, and the gossip was only growing more potent the longer you stood there in your stained ensemble.

‘Alright then,’ Mother gave in, ‘just… be careful.’

‘Of course.’ You reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. ‘Thank you.’ With this farewell, you ran out of the room as politely as it was possible in good society. There had not been many occasions in which you had visited Lord Parsnell’s estate, so it took a moment before you found the main entrance.

‘Everything alright, miss?’ a footman standing by the door called out, clearly having noticed your distress.

‘Perfectly well,’ you caught your breath. I simply require my carriage.’ To this, the man nodded and disappeared into a corridor to call for your transport. The music seeped through the main hallway from across the other side of the large house. Mindlessly, you let your body move in sync with the violins. You took small but correct steps over the marble flooring until the man returned, announcing your carriage would be ready momentarily.

‘I shall wait outside,’ you explained, and just like that, the grand doors opened to reveal the late night. Crickets chirped across the fields nearby as the moon and stars illuminated the gravel at the entrance. With nobody around and the cool night air pleasing to your heated skin, you took a deep breath and let your legs give in.

‘Danced too hard, miss?’ a familiar voice called over the sound of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels rolling. ‘You look like you have just walked through a storm.’

‘Balls have that effect on a lady.’

‘They sure do,’ Eddie chuckled, for a reason unclear to you.

‘Did I say something funny?’

‘No, it’s nothing,’ he shook his head, changing the subject, ‘Will your family be long?’

‘They shall take the second carriage. I will be making my return alone.’ With your numbers, one carriage would have called for a relatively tight, possibly hazardous fit. So you and your brothers had taken the larger coach—steered by your family’s coachmen—whilst your parents drove in the smaller hansom that Mr Munson had kindly offered to operate for the other regular driver had coincidentally fallen ill.

Thus, now that you were returning alone, you had the smaller carriage all to yourself.

‘No chaperone?’ Eddie asked, somewhat apprehensively.

‘I have you, have I not?’ you said as you hiked up your dress to climb aboard. The footman that had so generously opened the coach door looked reasonably stunned as, instead, you took your seat next to Eddie in the driver’s seat. He looked at you with just as much surprise. ‘I’d like to enjoy the mid-night air, if that is alright with you,’ you explained.

‘You won’t hear me complain, miss,’ he smiled, pulling the reigns and setting the horses into motion. As you drove off, you dared to take a peak behind you. The footman remained confused in his place, trying to comprehend what exactly he had just witnessed and whether or not to call it a scandal or not. But, in your modest opinion, you could not find anything scandalous in a young lady who was seeking comfort from one of her family’s employees and one you had, above all, learned to trust a great deal in the last weeks.

As you know, you have always found comfort in the gardens surrounding your house, yet after your first meeting with Mr Munson, you found yourself seeking refuge on the grounds even more often than before. Especially as the arguments regarding your prospects grew more heated and the tensions between you and your family became more tiresome by the day. It became an almost daily routine for someone to shout out obscenities and slam a door in protest, and nearly every fight ended in you needing to catch a breath amongst the flora. And more often than not, you wandered around until you found yourself at the stables. But unlike in your childhood when it was the horses’ company you were looking for, it was now a person’s attention you were hoping to catch—

❀❀❀

You certainly had no intentions of returning to the stables the first time you did so. Initially, you had planned to visit the orangery, but the gardeners were currently occupying it, and in your need for solitude, it did not feel like the right place to be, which is why you surprised yourself as you called out into the empty aisle.

‘Hello?’

No response came. Nobody was around except the stallions and mares, who were comfortably munching away at their hay, unaware of anything happening outside the building.

You stood in front of the entrance, looking ahead of you, unsure of what to do next and still not entirely certain why you had come here in the first place. You listened to the soft, unbothered noises of the horses and fiddled with the fabric of your dress for a moment or two until the silence became unbearable. It could not have been longer than a minute that you stood there, but to you, it felt like an eternity, and with each passing second and no plan on what to do next, you only felt sillier and sillier. You had to leave here before someone caught you standing and waiting like a statue. And as you turned around, you slammed into the arms of the one person you had hoped would not catch you this way.

‘We must stop meeting this way,’ Eddie smiled, but the grin quickly disappeared as he caught a glimpse of your expression. ‘Everything alright, ma’am?’

‘Yes, of course,’ you wiped the folds in your dress nervously. Something about his gaze made it impossible for you to return it. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘You look as if you’d just seen a ghost.’

‘Well, you did just scare me half to death, Mr Munson.’ It was true. You felt your heart leap up into your throat as your bodies collided. ‘You are far too stealthy, you know.’

‘Apologies. I have learned to be quiet around the horses so as not to startle them—’

‘Which has the exact opposite effect on humans, does it not? ' you said, pushing the corners of your mouth into a smile.

‘It appears so, miss.’ He returned the gesture.

It took far too long for you to realise that, according to the general rules of conversation, you were expected to say something next; however, before you could remedy that misstep, Eddie spoke up once more.

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

‘Yes,’ you shook your head, ‘perfectly so. Is the weather not lovely?’ You looked up, just anywhere but at him, to see the cloudless sky. ‘I er— I thought of taking Barley Sugar out for a ride.’ Suddenly, your intentions of finding yourself in front of the stableman were perfectly clear.

‘Of course, ma’am. Which horse will your chaperone be taking?’ The question stumped you, which must have been clear to the man looking so intently at you, for he quickly asked: ‘You do have a chaperone, do you not?’

‘I do not. I am more than capable of riding the horse on my own, thank you. I have been doing so since I was 5 years old.’

Eddie hovered over his words briefly. ‘I did not intend to question your skills, ma’am; it is only that it had been made clear to me upon my employment that you are required to have someone accompany you when you leave the residence—for the horse’s safety, if anything.’ He quickly added, sensing that it might soften the blow of your horse-riding chastising.

‘I did not think you to be such a stickler for the rules, Mr Munson,’ you found yourself to tease the man. Where the nerve to do so came from, you did not know, but it looked to be appreciated. Eddie shook his head, possibly already regretting his following words.

‘May I at least ask where you will be headed then?’

‘I have not thought of that yet,’ you responded honestly. ‘I might just see where Barley takes me.’ At this, however, the stableman visibly winced. You raised a brow. ‘Is something the matter?’

Eddie shook his head in disappointment. ‘I only wish you had not said that, miss. I cannot, in good conscience, let Barley Sugar go out unprepared like that. The old thing could get lost or, even worse, hurt. To even think of such a thing happening—’ he looked away, reminding you of how the actors moved in the many plays you had visited at the theatre. ‘Well, it is simply too painful even to consider.’

‘I am sure Barley can manage such a venture… and she is certainly not old.’

‘Of course,’ he corrected, ‘But we must consider the risks and wouldn’t want anything to happen to Barley, now, would we?’ As he spoke, you made the grave mistake of finding his eyes and the stare he greeted you with, while warm, was intense and rather dizzying.

You cleared your throat, suppressing a smile, ‘Well, perhaps, if you insist, you should be the one to accompany me on this ride… for Barley’s sake.’

‘For Barley’s sake.’ He echoed your words softer, and just like that, any protocol that should have been considered was thrown out the window. As a newly acquired help, Eddie had no right to accompany you on outings as a chaperone, not without senior permission, at the least. And yet, it was not even ten minutes later that you were both seated on your horses— you upon Barley Sugar and Eddie on the back of a dark brown stallion named Marzipan—and briskly making your way out of the enclosed grounds of the estate.

Ever since, as if by a magnet, you felt yourself pulled towards that particular side of the garden at the sight of any inconvenience. You knew that there was not only an ear always eager to listen but a voice happy to speak to you freely and happily. And though most days, there would be the excuse of a horse or carriage ride for your visit, other times, you would plainly sit by as Eddie worked, chatting away for hours on end or however much time you had to offer.

‘Are you quite sure that it is alright for you to be here, miss?’ Eddie asked after a week’s worth of your visits. You watched him pick up a large sack of feed as if it weighed nothing at all and put it across the stable room. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing that however strainless the carrying of the weight might seem, he had certainly put his muscles to work.

‘I may not own this house directly,’ you answered, ‘but I am the lord’s daughter, and I am free to do as I please… to a certain extent.’ No one could tell you not to roam through the grounds or converse with the groom in your free time, but total freedom you had not.

‘Well, with risk or not,’ Eddie threw another sack on top of the previous, ‘I consider it a great honour to be the recipient of your company.’

‘I am surprised none of the gentlemen have attempted to use such a phrase to charm me.’ You could not help but roll your eyes. ‘And besides, Mr Munson, the honour is all mine. It is rare for me to find a person that finds me agreeable enough to talk to me at such length as you do.’ And one I find as agreeable too, you considered adding but decided against it.

That smile peeked out over his lips again as he walked up to you. ‘Well, I have hardly any choice, I mean, when you come here to my place of work, it’s not like I can just walk away.’

‘Oh, you,’ you pushed at him lightly. But with him having squatted down to meet you at eye level, the slight push was enough to topple him over onto the ground. And to think I wanted to ask you to escort me on another horse ride.’

‘In these clothes?’ Eddie looked at the both of you, him covered in mud and dust, and your dress was much the same. ‘What will people think?’

You got off your makeshift seat to help him back on his feet.

‘Then let us hope there will be no one to see us.’

❀❀❀

The carriage wobbled over the uneven ground as you distanced yourselves from the Parsnell estate, and the quiet of the night was filled with your retelling of the evening.

‘So I am to understand that this,’ Eddie cocked his head your way, referring to your dress, ‘was your own doing?’

‘I thought it quite ingenious,’ you shrugged.

‘And what of this Mr… Harrington? He must still be looking for you with that maid of his I imagine.’

‘No.’ But the image of a disappointed Mr Harrington walking through the room, a maid in tow, with you nowhere to be seen, did sting at your heart a little with guilt. ‘Do you really think he is still looking for me?’ A giggle burst through against your better judgment despite your attempts to suppress it with the hand you covered your mouth with. ‘I am quite cruel, aren’t I?’

‘Absolutely wicked,’ Eddie commented with a weirdly proud smile. As the road went on straight, he took his eyes off it from time to time to glance your way—just briefly and only a handful of times, but enough for you to notice. You could only hope he was not as observant towards your actions.

‘What is it?’ you asked after several more glances directed towards you as a sweet silence fell between you.

‘It is nothing,’ Eddie smiled it off.

‘Which means it is certainly something. Go on, enlighten me.’

He shook his head. ‘I suppose it is just that, from how you described the night, I do not see what must be so awful about it— you speak of delicious food, drinking and dancing. I don’t necessarily see a problem in this.’

‘Because that is not the problem. It is not the dancing, it is who I am to dance with.’ You sighed. ‘Night after night, it is an endless rotation of the same men I am as uninterested in as the very first day I met them. They corner me to ask me a million questions, each shallower than the last, only to then try and coax me into a dance where they will surely trample my feet.’

‘I see,’ Eddie nodded, but perhaps it was only the vibrations caused by the carriage’s movement that made him agree with your ramblings.

‘I apologise. I do not mean to talk of my problems constantly.’ Indeed, the man must have his own issues, and ones that most likely outweighed your marital prospects severely.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, miss. I am happy to listen,’ he said earnestly.

‘Very well,’ you contemplated your words for a moment until you quickly blurted out with curiosity, ‘but how was your evening?’

‘Mine?’ To your surprise, your question had caused Eddie to chuckle.

‘Yes. I assume you must have done something to fulfil the last hours. Or do carriage drivers freeze up when unattended, only to thaw at their master’s command?’

‘I would say that is partly true.’ He quickly looked your way with a smile before explaining himself. ‘For the most part, when on duty, you have to keep your mind on the job, so I cannot exactly indulge in things and have to be ready in case a lady’s dress is ruined and she is in dire need of her getaway carriage.’ Your eyes met briefly. ‘But that does not mean that I am to sit still in an empty room until you come to call, no.’

‘So? What is it that you do in the meantime?’

‘Card games, for the most part.’ He shrugged, not seeing your interest in the topic, too focused on the road ahead to notice how you eagerly looked at him, awaiting his following words.

You had to admit, until that night, you had never put much thought behind the private lives of those who waited on you. Yes, you understood that not all their day revolved around you or your family, but you also never considered it to be any of your business to follow theirs. You listened whenever your maid, Claire, told you stories about her family, storing the basic information of the names and so on in the back of your mind, but at the end of the day, these were nothing more than anecdotes amid polite conversation. Yet, with Eddie, you were eager to know everything about him. The longer you spoke, the more questions filled your mind, and the less adequate you felt to ask them. You were, after all, friendly, or so you hoped, but you knew there was a thick line in society when it came to friendships such as this one, and you were not sure where that line would be crossed and if to be scared of what would happen once it happened. But now and then, curiosity got the better of you, and you managed to trickle in a question for Eddie to open up to you.

‘What er– kind of card games?’ You nudged on in your questioning.

‘The regular kind, the ones nobody mentions by name, but everyone simply knows the rules of.’

‘I do not think I am familiar with any of such kind,’ you admitted. In the meantime, the carriage drew to a slow halt at the crossing of two roads. ‘You take the left here,’ you told Eddie, who looked at you in surprise.

‘I cannot say my navigational skills are perfect,’ you said, ‘but I pay attention, and I remember going past the large boulder on our way to the party. There.’ You pointed towards the rock some meters away from the crossing in the left direction.

‘You are quite observant, I’ll give you that.’ He brought the horses back to action, and the rattling of hooves and wheels on the uneven ground resumed. As you passed the large boulder once more, Eddie then resumed your conversation. ‘You do not play any card games, then?’

‘I will admit, I prefer chess, but I do often play Cribbage with my siblings—or Brag. My brother Nicholas is also very fond of Piquet, and as I am the only one in the house that can stand his unsportsmanlike antics, he often forces me to play it with him.’

‘Very well,’ Eddie listened, then asked, ‘Do you know Trischaken?’

‘Pardon?’ you barely understood what he had said.

‘Trischaken. It’s a Prussian card game, or perhaps Austrian; you’ll have to excuse my awful memory for geography.’ At this, you both laughed politely,

‘No, I do not think I have heard of it.’

‘Oh, it’s great, I must teach how to play one day.’ Only once his enthusiasm unfogged his mind a second later did Eddie pull back the excitement of his invitation to a polite suggestion, ‘If that is something that would interest you… ma’am.’

‘I would like that very much.’ You smiled, showing a bigger and more authentic smile than you had the entirety of the passing night. And barely did that smile fade for the remaining hours as you drove back home and listened to Eddie talk, trying to explain the rules of the intricate foreign game or tell you about his life outside of work.

‘I did not take you for a music fanatic.’ You admitted as you approached the vicinity of Ridlington Park, its gates already glowing from the lights around it in the near distance.

‘It must be a very sour sort of man that does not enjoy music. Are there really such types?’

‘And he is more common than you’d imagine, I am afraid, and it seems to be the type that my parents see me to marry one day.’

‘I am beginning to understand your problem,’ Eddie said, ‘but yes, music has always had a special place in my heart. My father had taught me how to play when I was a young boy and since then, it’s always brought me a great comfort. It was actually one of the very few things I brought with me from America.’

‘Is it hard? being so far away from your family?’ You asked softly, unable to imagine how you would feel if you were to leave everything and everyone you had ever known to work in some foreign land on the opposite side of the world.

‘There are many things that I am still growing accustomed to, but I cherish the change.’

‘That is a very diplomatic mindset. I for one could not bear a day without the possibility of seeing my family, I think, no matter how meddlesome they are.’

Eddie’s eyes shimmered with kindness for your words. ‘I suppose I have grown used to it. I have been travelling for years now and have not seen my family for an even longer time, so it is actually the lack of independence and presence of…. this closeness of others that I am attempting to grow used to now.’

‘Ah.’ You blinked, not having expected that kind of response. Immediately, as the door of Eddie’s past unlocked, even if just for a moment, a mountain of questions spilt inside you, but you pushed those urges back. ‘I see. Well, if you ever require solitude and wish me to leave you alone, please be not afraid to just tell me so. I shall respect your wishes.’ Had you been too eager to sit beside him for the entirety of the ride, talking his ear off? Or all those other days when you bothered him at work. Oh, the embarrassment. If it was not for the fact that you were already coming through the Ridlington Park gates, you would have jumped off the carriage and walked the rest of the way home.

‘No, I did not mean it like that.’ Eddie quickly recovered his words. ‘Please, do not think I do not greatly appreciate and enjoy our conversations. They— they have been the highlight of my days.’

‘Really?’ Your proud smile was too strong to keep at bay.

‘Yes, really.’ Eddie’s words pushed out a breathy laugh. ‘I see it as a welcome escape from the work.’

‘So do I,’ you noticed the wrong fit of your phrasing, ‘I mean, I enjoy our conversations as well.’ Would it be too much to call them an escape from reality? To him, perhaps. The entire night had already been a far breach of that line of what is proper or not for a lady to do. You knew you were awaiting a scolding the second your mother returned from the Parsnell ball. Now, the territory your and Eddie’s exchange was heading into felt anxiously foreign, somewhere you realised you had never gone to with any of your friends or acquaintances. Your heart picked up its pace as the carriage slowed down for the final time that night, arriving at its destination.

Before you could do or say anything, Eddie had jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran across the back of the hansom to assist your exit. He extended his hand for you to take, and the moment your fingertips met, you knew it had been a mistake. Your hold tightened around his hand as you took the steps onto the ground, and though you found your footing perfectly well, you did not find the power to let go of Eddie.

And neither did he of you.

The two of you stood in front of each other, eyes locked into a deep gaze, only broken by his glances to the point where you were connected. Your hand was in his and burning like a fire between you; for the brief seconds as they pulled you closer together, your fingertips felt like the centre of the entire universe.

A fire that surely would burn and scar if you were to touch it.

It was dangerous. You knew it.

But what was life without a bit of risk?

‘My apologies,’ Eddie cleared his throat, taking a step back, letting your hand fall through the cold air.

‘There is no need for that.’ You shook your head out of all thoughts, or at least attempted to do so. ‘It is I who should apologise. If you will excuse me, I must change into something less… cakey. Good night, Mr Munson.’ You looked down at your dress, which was still, very much, covered in remnants of wine and cake. You were to leave, but Eddie quickly called to you, almost as if the words were faster than his mouth.

‘How many times must I ask you just to call me Eddie?’ His eyes were those of a pleading man, pleading for something you did not quite comprehend, but at the same time, you knew the consequences of giving in to his request.

You looked back at the windows of Ridlington Park. The building was enveloped in darkness, as no one was there to occupy the rooms or to see you. All you could do was remind yourself that there was nothing wrong with you being alone with a carriage driver or any other member of staff, but it certainly did not feel that way. There was undoubtedly something dangerous going on in that instance.

You took a deep breath as he held it in. The line you were scared to cross was getting thinner, and you grasped for something to hold onto as you felt your feet slip away.

‘Good night, Eddie.’

And just like that, with only the hope there was no one around to see it, you both fell.

To be continued...

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