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naburi · 2 months ago

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WILL YOU AVAIL ME AGAIN?

DAHYUN X READER

TAGS: DILDO PLAY, LUBE, BODY OIL, TONGUE PLAY, MISSIONARY, DOUBLE PENETRATION, DOGGY, ANAL

3.4K WORDS

Midnight and still awake, browsing to find a video that will satisfy you for tonight. It seems like you're looking at identical girls, fake big boobs, slim limbs, small waists. They all look the same which you find boring, not until you found her video. Her smooth thick legs are spread to front her tight pink slit, pleasuring herself in front of the camera, only wearing a face mask to hide her identity. “She looks like my coworker”, you said. Milky white skin, thick legs, broad slim shoulders. You didn’t give too much thought to the similarities not until you saw your coworker later that day.

You’re a young corporate man who can’t find romance to have a meaningful connection. You thought finally finishing college will improve your sex life, but what you found is the opposite. Everyone is busy in the fast paced workplace. Nobody has the time to build relationships, you are all too tired to go out to satisfy your sexual life. That’s why you start to lean on watching adult content. It’s easy, quick, and convenient as you can all have different platforms to have access to numerous adult content creators.

“MS. KIM,” you caught yourself calling Ms. Kim's attention. The thought of the woman you watched last night flashes on your mind. Dahyun looks back, “Hi, Mr. y/n, can I help you?,” she asked politely while still baffled you shouted her name. “I… I… No, I don’t have anything to say,” you say nervously. You don’t even know why you called her name. Feeling embarrassed, you apologize to Dahyun and quickly go back to your cubicle. The woman was left standing processing what just happened.

“It’s her right?” You said to yourself, rushing back home, not even bothered to change clothes. You pull out your phone to go back to the website you found the video. You found her page and surfed through her contents. Her first upload was 6 months ago. She goes from posting just the bottom half of her body, cropped from shoulder up, to revealing her head which still keeps her identity with a white face mask. She consistently uploads every week, most of her videos are just herself playing with her slit with different dildos, she also posts a quick video teaser having an intercourse but you need to subscribe to her page to have access to her adult contents.

Dahyun has a great image in your company. She's the youngest but already has few promotions due to her work ethic and dedication. There are rumors that her quick ascension to the corporate ladder is not because of her hard work but due to what she can do for you after work hours. The rumors didn’t hit the ground enough because of how well she befriended everyone in the company. Her young angelic face helps but what caught everyone’s heart is her bubbly personality that shines bright in the dull and depressing workplace.

It’s been a week now, you took every instance to get an interaction with the company’s princess. From personally passing some documents, to having conversations with someone in her department. Dahyun is not in the same department as you thus making your investigation more complicated. You thought about stalking her social media accounts but all are in private. You started befriending her close coworkers but good things about her are the only thing they talk about. Finding proof that they are the same person seems like an impossible task thus you finally gave up. Nothing would change if you prove that they are the same person, it’s not like you will snitch on the company’s princess after all.

Heavy rain pours just as you’re about to clock out. You and your coworkers are standing outside of the entrance waiting for the rain to die down. A white SUV pulls up in front of you, the driver’s window rolled down, its Ms. Kim, “come inside, I'll drop you off at the subway station.” Some of your coworkers who also take a subway with you ride the SUV. Everyone is too shy to take the passenger seat including you. “You can’t all fit in the back, one should sit beside.” She said, nobody what’s to go in front but they manage to convince you. Sitting tightly on the passenger seat, your colleagues at the back keep asking questions to Ms. Kim, as they also what’s to get close to her, while you’re sitting quietly due to shyness.

Dahyun’s phone that’s on the dashboard lit up revealing a notification. You notice a familiar application icon and the text that says she has a new subscriber. This is the proof that you're looking for, Ms. Kim is an adult content creator. Your colleagues in the back didn’t notice the notification and Dahyun just casually turned down her phone, thinking you don’t know what the notification is all about. Everyone is thanking Ms. Kim for the ride, She noticed how happy you are but not giving more thoughts about it.

Arriving at home, you now have more reason to watch all her contents, you're watching the company’s princess pleasure herself. Everyone's beloved coworker is in an adult site spreading her legs for views and money. It's been a few nights now and her masturbation videos became repetitive. Your high needs satisfaction thus you now subscribe to her paid contents to watch her get fucked by different men, from local Koreans to foreigners, she let herself get fucked to make an content. Her most viewed content is where she pours body oil all over her body which highlights her white skin. Her glowing white oiled up skin, made the sex more erotic. Her buttocks made a heavenly sound as the guy is hitting her from behind, her small oiled boobs get massaged sensually before she takes the cock inside her again. Dahyun wails and moans under her face mask as she gets fuck harder. The few bucks you spend for her content is worth it.

You smile and interact with Ms. Kim during the day while touching yourself watching her contents at night, this has become your routine until she has not been in the office for a few consecutive days now. Nobody knows why she’s absent for a few days now and her manager doesn’t want to disclose her reason. Watching her videos doesn’t hit the mark anymore. You’re about to go sleep but a notification pops up on your screen. Dahyun just dropped a new subscription based content. You can subscribe to her live stream where you can select what kind of dildos she will use and what position she will do a live masturbation. How this works is you're gonna give her gifts during the stream for her to follow your instructions.

She announced that the live stream will start tomorrow at midnight. You’re one of the first subscribers that’s in her live, her legs spread open just like the first time you saw her content. Her one hand is caressing her slit while her other hand is fondling her breast, Different sizes of dildos and lubes lined up to her right side. One viewer starts giving gifts with his comments on the stream. She asked Dahyun to use a thick dildo. She lubes the dildo and slowly inserts it in her slit. The thickness of it gives her a hard time as her slit didn’t even get to warm up. Few attempts pass by and she finally gets to put it all inside her, she starts to moan as she’s pumping the thick dildo inside her.

“Use the tentacle dildo and sit on it,” one commented. Dahyun reads this as she gets notified for the gift. She poured lube to the dildo and started stroking it to spread the lube. She sticks it in front of the screen as she slowly impales herself in the tentacle shaped dildo. The unusual shape gives Dahyun a different sensation making her more horny, she grabs both of her boobs as she’s sitting up and down to the dildo. She started to play with her boobs without even an instruction. She’s massaging her under boobs upward then focusing her fingers on her nipples. One of the viewers commented that she should use oil as she’s caressing her boobs. Dahyun follows, quickly pouring oil on her chest, smothering it all over her boobs, her boobs massages get more erotic due to how smooth she caresses her two mounds.

“Use the black dildo, in your anal, sit on it” a viewer commented. The black dildo is noticeably inspired by a big black cock, it's shaped like one and in great detail. Dahyun uses two hands just to pour lube all over the dildo. She turned her back to the camera as she’s slowly sitting on it. Her big butt is now in full view, the sight of her ass taking the big black dildo is too erotic, Dahyun groans as her ass is getting stretched. The viewers are praising her on how erotic she is, they commented that her moans are heavenly. They keep giving gifts even without instructions as they are pleased with what she’s doing.

To your surprised, Ms. Kim is finally back in the office. Everyone greets her and wants to know the reason for her absences. You're happy to see your colleague but you’re too embarrassed to greet her as you know the real reasons why she’s having a hard time walking around the office. You heard that she’s saying to your coworkers that she has a sprained ankle is the reason she can’t walk straight. Nobody bats an eye as the company is just glad to finally see their bubbly princess.

You thought everything goes back to normal but it’s been a week now and Ms. Kim has nowhere to be found, her manager said that she filed for a long leave due to personal reasons. You took the subway with heavy feet as you’re saddened by the news, it seems like you developed an affectionate attitude towards your colleague and just wants to see her do well again. After taking a bath as an attempt to lift your mood. You saw a notification from Dahyun’s page. She’s offering a VIP subscription where you can meet her face to face. This subscription comes with a hefty price and you need to abide by 5 sets of conditions: you can’t remove her face mask during the session, you can’t asked for an oral sex, you can’t ask for her personal information, you can’t record anything during the session, you should wear protection during intercourse.

You didn’t waste any time and avail her VIP subscription even though it’s worth half of your monthly salary. After sending your payment. You received a message where she sends you a time and date where you can meet her. It’s on Saturday afternoon, in one of the hotels in the city. The sudden realization that Dahyun will know that you’re one of her subscribers sent you into a frenzy. You don’t want to cancel your meet up as this golden opportunity may not knock again.

It’s Friday night, you do a quick shopping for self care materials as you want to look good and smell good when you finally do it with Dahyun. You are embarrassed to buy packs of condoms as it’s been ages since you last bought one. It’s the day of the meet up. She sends you a message that she will wait for you in the room. You're now in front of the hotel, standing nervously while wearing… a face mask. You plan to also somehow conceal your identity to Ms. Kim because you don’t want to destroy your working relationship with her. This plan fails miserably as Dahyun can’t hide her shock expression the moment she opens the room door.

There’s an awkward air in the hotel room. It seems like the two of you might not do it out of embarrassment. The silence in the room was broken by a pop up message on her phone. You notice how her expression changed as she read the message. Whatever is in the message is enough for Dahyun to ignore that her coworker will share the same bed as her. She laid her conditions in a serious tone as she removed her clothing, sitting naked on the center of the bed waiting for you to make a move on her.

You strip down your clothes in nervousness while only leaving the face mask. You awkwardly sit in front of the naked woman. You look in her eyes to see her expressions, but she doesn’t have any, it looks like she’s ready for whatever you want to do with her. You first touch her boobs, your two hands awkwardly reach to her mounds, carefully playing it. Dahyun knows that both of you will get satisfied with you still being cautious. “Mr. Y/n, I know it’s you, you can remove your face mask and do me as you please,” she said finally addressing the elephant in the room.

Dahyun’s message wakes you out of your nervousness. You’re here fuck the company’s princess and that’s what you do, you remove your face move and instructed her to lay down. The woman that you have been watching every night is not laying down in front of you. You position yourself on top of her reaching her two boobs again but this time, caressing them like how they deserve. Dahyun's boobs perfectly fit her body, and shaped her body to great proportions. The woman groans on how aggressive you mauled her boobs but you can’t help yourself due to how soft they are. Her pink nipples that you saw her playing on her content are now in the tip of your own fingers.

Dahyun yelps as you play her nipples. This encourages you to use your tongue to pleasure one of them. Flicking her nipple in a circular motion she grabs your hair to press your head even closer to her boobs. You notice that Dahyun also brings her toys with her. You reached out for her bag on the side table, from watching her oiled body to being the one pouring it to her. You pour directly on her nipples which caught her off guard by the wet sensation. From her nipples to her boobs, you massaged her body, smearing the oil in the process. Her white milky skin glistening, her smooth skin gets slippery making it easy to caress the rest of her body.

You pour oil down to her legs as well, massaging her thick legs, your fingertips move dangerously close to her slit which elicits a gasp from Dahyun as she’s anticipating it. You notice how she got wet after you massage her legs. You lick her slit up to taste your colleague. Dahyun keeps moaning as your tongue explores her slit. From her slit up to her clit, you lick every part of it, making your goal to eat Dahyun well. Your tongue focuses on flicking her clit, the woman jolts her hips in pleasure. You hold down her waist to keep her in place while continuing your barrage on her clit. You notice wetness in your chin due to Dahyun getting more wet. You hardened your tongue now and inserts in and out of her slit. The woman pushes your head down even more, while her other hand is stimulating her clit. You suck and lick your colleagues till she shakes her hips due to orgasm.

Dahyun is laying down letting her orgasm flow till she feels your tongue is now exploring her ass. Her ass is as pink as her slit, you spit on it as lube before you slowly lick her ass. Her legs started to move uncontrollably as she’s not used to her ass getting licked. From soft circular motions to fast in and out of her ass, every touch of your tongue elicits a loud moan from Dahyun. You notice she used one of her dildos to rub her slit while you're eating her down there. This signals to you that she’s ready.

You stand up to wear a condom while Dahyun can’t wait as she’s already shoving a dildo in her slit while she’s waiting for you. You smirk as your naughty colleague can’t wait any longer. Spreading her legs up. You position your cock in front of her slit that still has a dildo inside it. You pull the dildo out of her and it reveals how her slit forms into a hole that accommodates the size of the dildo. Dahyun is looking at your cock seamlessly entering her slit. The feeling of a warm cock can’t beat any size or shape of a dildo she thought. You hold her small waist as you gradually quicken up the pace. Hands on her face masks to cover her mouth, she’s embarrassed how her coworker can make her moan this load. Her muffled moan only adds to your fuel to fuck the company’s princess like she’s your slut.

You hear Dahyun calling your name through her covered mouth, her walls tightening, the woman is near her orgasm. You now hold her wide hips to get a better grip of her as you rammed your cock deep inside her as face as you could. Dahyun let go of her mouth to let a loud moan echo all throughout the room. You let her orgasm again while your cock is still inside her. Pulling out, you want to keep her slit stimulated. You put the dildo back inside her as you asked Dahyun to masturbate using her dildo while you fuck her from behind. You position her in a doggy position, her ass still wet from your tongue assault earlier on. She felt your tip bump in the entrance of her ass. Dahyun’s face is in the bedsheet, one hand plowing the dildo in her slit, she felt your warm cock slowly entering her ass. The woman groans lowly as she’s taking it all deep in her. Dahyun tight ass is no Joke, even though this ass takes the biggest of dildos, it’s still tight like it’s begging to get worn down. Dahyun has a big white ass which is impaled with your cock. Every slap to her meaty ass leaves a red mark of your hand. You both groaned as you started to move your cock in and out of her. You remember the endless nights you watched this big ass of her get fucked by dildos or other men, but for this moment, it’s yours to destroy. You plow your cock slowly and deep in her ass making sure your tip reaches as deep as your can. Dahyun is now biting her face mask, muffling her cries of pleasure. You began to move your cock at a quicker pace which made Dahyun speak inaudibly. She can’t move her dildo anymore as she’s getting too stimulated on how you fuck her ass. You’re now maintaining a quick pace plowing her ass, Dahyun cries your name as all she knows now is how your cock pleasuring all parts of her tight ass. She tried to reach for your arm that is holding her hips to signal you that she can’t take it anymore. Dahyun is about to turn into a mess. Her body drops on the bed but you still keep fucking her ass. Dahyun doesn't know how long it has been but she noticed when you asked her if you can cum on her back. She can only muffled a “Yes,” before you remove your cock in her ass and spray paint her back with all your cum.

The woman fell asleep for a few minutes before sitting up like she’s in a hurry. She asked if she could leave now, still catching your breath. You agreed to leave together. “I need money, my brother is sick, he will undergo operations next week,” Dahyun said as she’s driving you to the subway station. Without asking a question, she answered what you’re terrified to ask. You listen to her story while she’s driving you to the subway station. Her parents are too old to work, her family is only dependent on her. She asked if you can keep this between the two of you. She said she will go back to work after her brother’s operation.

“Will you avail me again?” Dahyun jokingly asked.

#k pop smut #twice smut #reader smut #twice x reader #dahyun x reader #dahyun smut

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vauxxy · 11 months ago

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FORWARDS BECKON REBOUND

luke castellan x reader

based on this request !!

★ “mystery of lack, stabbing stars through my back”

ABOUT - luke castellan lovingly pissing off his girlfriend while she’s reading

WARNINGS - luke being annoying in a cute way

you’re alone in your cabin in the early afternoon, enjoying the silence that comes after your half-siblings leave to join in on camp activities for the day. you lay on your stomach with your back towards the ceiling, quietly reading a jane austen novel.

peace and quiet was a rare occurrence at camp half-blood- a rare occurrence that you consistently took advantage of. wether it be sneaking luke into your empty cabin during cold winter nights, exploiting the absence of the rest of your siblings as they go home for the year, or simply spending days reading for hours undisturbed.

so here you are, basking in the quiet of your cabin as you read peacefully. your elbows prop up your torso as you flip through the pages, letting your legs move idly.

suddenly, you hear the door to your cabin open with a loud creak. you whip your head around, only to find your loving, gentle boyfriend standing in the doorway. you watch him as he closes the door behind him.

“hey, princess,” he says breathily, walking over to you with his hands in his pockets. you nod softly, before turning your attention back to your book.

luke sits down at the end of your bed, watching you read in silence for a moment. sadly, luke is one of the most energetic and social people you have ever met, so you brace yourself for whatever he’ll say or do next- knowing the serenity of your afternoon will soon vanish.

“what’re you reading?” he asks quietly, before laying down next to you with his back sinking into your mattress. he turns his head to look at you, resting his hands on top of his stomach.

you turn a page, eyes locked on your book as you respond. “emma, by jane austen,” you say quietly. he nods, quiet giggles escaping his mouth. “of course you are.”

you both lay like this for a few minutes, luke trying not to disturb your peace and quiet. but watching you look so focused on your book, laying on your stomach with your hair cascading down your body- you looked too gorgeous to be left alone.

luke was starting to feel jealous of the fucking book, especially the way you’re holding it so delicately.

luke adjusts his position on your bed, turning to lay on his stomach with his head still facing towards yours. his body is pressed against the mattress lazily, but his hands are less relaxed. he moves his hand towards your arm, softly caressing the bare skin that was holding up your book.

“you okay?” you mumble quietly, still looking only at your book.

“mhm…” he nods, moving his head to lay on your shoulder. he reads the page, letting his body move much closer to yours. you giggle as he tilting his head down to kiss your neck, your cheeks turning pink.

he wraps an arm around your waist, resting his hand on your hip. he lets his head lay back down on the mattress as he begins to press soft kisses on the side of your torso.

you roll your eyes, trying to stifle a flustered smile. “luke, i’m trying to read…” you whine, finally turning your head to face him.

“i know, i know.” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead, taking advantage of the way your head is turned towards his.

you sigh, closing your book and placing it neatly onto your bedside table. he pouts at you as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him. you laugh quietly, wrapping your arm around his back as you bury your head in his chest. he kisses the top of your head as he softly rubs the side of your waist from under your shirt.

you groan quietly, shaking your head. “so needy…”

#luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months ago

Note

For the jace and baela scene, reader could be a Tyrell or dornish? I saw that you liked them. I want her to be light and sweet and compassionate, but able to hold jace’s character.

When I saw this scene in the leaks, I had to re-write it...and add the cuteness the show did not

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Jacaerys had not been present when Rhaenyra's great plan turned into a carnage. His hatred for the dragonseeds was so strong you fear he would have taken a small pleasure watching them burn.

A shiver ran down your back at the images.

You thought it was cruel of the Queen to block the doors when Vermithor blazed fire on the dragonseeds who tried to get inside. But you understood Rhaenyra’s decision. There were other dragons on the island. Wild ones. These people all had a drop of Valyrian blood in them. They could claim one of the wild dragons...and turn on her — as Jacaerys feared.

By eliminating them, it lessened the chances of someone claiming a wild dragon and using it against her.

After a bearded man named Hugh finally claimed Vermithor, you went looking for your betrothed. He was not outside with Vermax, nor in his chambers.

Noticing the frown on your brows and your pacing in the corridors, a guard informed you that he saw the prince heading to the library hours ago. You thanked him, and found Jacaerys sitting at a table with a hoard of books around him. He must have come here when he saw the dragonseeds arriving on Dragonstone.

From your angle, you could see a pout on his lips as he rested his head on his fist. His back was to you, so he didn’t see you come in.

‘’It does not befit a prince to pout.’’ Your tone was teasing and light, contrasting to his sulking.

‘’I’m not pouting,’’ Jacaerys denied, not moving.

You took the stack of books from the chair next to his and set it on the table so you could sit on the chair. ‘’What would you call it, then?’’ You raised a brow and poked his pushed out lips.

It usually put his pouting to an end, but his face stayed icy. ‘’I’m reading,’’ he said, turning the page of the book before him.

‘’While your mother waits?’’

He ignored your question, still upset and bitter about the bastard dragonseeds.

A part of you understood Rhaenyra's desire for wanting riders for the two unclaimed dragons. She never thought it would be possible, but Adam of Hull proved to her that the Valyrian blood in bastards was strong enough to claim Seasmoke. Having more dragons on her side will benefit her against the Greens and Vhagar.

But another was aching for Jacaerys. He was made fun of all his childhood for his non-Valyrian features, and these bastards were praised for succeeding in claiming a dragon.

‘’You’re angry,’’ you stated, rubbing his back in an attempt to sooth him.

You’ve been comforting him a lot lately, but nothing you knew seemed to work today.

Jacaerys finally turned to look at you, his eyes hard from his anger. ‘’Aren’t you?’’

You released a breath. ‘’I don’t see what good it would do.’’

‘’They are insults to us. To what makes us Targaryen. If any common lout can ride a dragon, then—’’

‘’That does not make you common!’’

In the year and half you had known Jacaerys, it was striking to you that he had nothing of a common-born. He was raised as royalty, and educated like a prince — an heir. He was well-behaved, silver tongued, and the son of Queen Rhaenyra. He carried her royal blood.

He glanced at you again, then turned away to stare at the table. ‘’You know what I am…’’

‘’I don’t care,’’ you said truly.

In Dorne, bastards were not looked down upon the way they are in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. But they did not inherit from their parents the same as their legitimate children. They were acknowledged, cared after, but never allowed to claim a crown or title that had not been given to them.

‘’You are the crown prince,’’ you continued, ‘’the son of the rightful Queen, and here you are sulking because you believe that if not for the dragon, or the trappings of your station, that you are nothing.’’ You took Jacaerys’ hand in yours, chuckling lightly. ‘’Do you believe you are the first noble heir who was not sired by his noble father? Such is the way of the world, Jace, and in resenting it, you only diminish yourself.’’

Jacaerys leaned his head back on the chair, still pouting. ‘’Easy enough to say. I’ve heard the whispers the whole of my life.’’ You could hear the deep rooted trauma and scars in his voice.

‘’Then prove to them that you are worthy. Get up and take your place by your mother’s side. You and she had your differences lately, but she’ll never replace you by one of them. No one can replace a mother's first son.’’

He was silent for a few moments, staring at the ceiling of the dark library, and took in your words. No one can replace a mother's first son. She had him when she herself was a child. There was no one she loved more than him.

Jacaerys turned to face you, his eyes softening. Your reassurances made him see reason. He was still upset, but he found comfort in your words.

He gripped your hand, and pulled you close. Closeness was his way of finding comfort. When you were settled upon his lap, his hands went to your hips, holding you against him.

Even then, you noticed he was still pouting. You thought the gesture was utterly cute, but you wouldn’t tell him that.

You gently tilted his head to look at you and leaned down to kiss him. ‘’No more pouting.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist: @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #house of the dragon #hotd

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imwritingthefout · 3 months ago

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A mask of my own face

I love this photo it’s so silly :>

Summary:

reader is worried about ford and his recent... outbursts. they decide to check on him, but find him at the wrong time, or rather, they don't find him, but someone else in his body.

basically: reader gets fucked by bill cipher in ford's body and kinda likes it.

(the title is the song by lemon demon bc it fits)

Warnings: non con elements/ dubious consent, rough smut, p in v sex, some fluff at the end, a little angst but it’s fine in the end

also crossposted on ao3

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Ford was acting… different. More distant than usual, more…. Off-putting.

He always had a sort of off-kiltered charm in the way he interacted with you, always flipping between being overly confident in himself, and tripping over his own words at the sight of you. Like something in his brain didn’t compute that you were together, that you were his. You got used to this after a few months of dating the researcher, and it evened out for a bit… but now it seems he’s reverted back to his old ways, from before you started dating.

One second he would be holding you tight, saying how much he loved you and wanted you by his side for the rest of his life, but then the next he would push you away to go ‘meditate’ in his lab. He would stay there for hours, only coming up for more coffee. (and strangely enough, to shove forks into his hands when he thought you weren’t looking)

You decided that enough was enough when one evening you realised you hadn't seen him all day. He must've gotten up before you to go to his lab, and hadn’t come up since then.

You went on a search for him all around the house, hoping he wasn't in that god-forsaken lab, but it seems god wasn’t on your side.

When you found him, you saw him sitting hunched over at his desk, writing something down aggressively. You tried to gently touch his shoulder, but the movement caused him to jump so high up from his chair he almost hit the ceiling. You, of course, were startled by the sudden movement and took a step back from him.

He slowly turned to you and his face…. His eyes…. Something about them was wrong. Maybe it was the lack of sleep on his part or your worrying, but you could swear his eyes looked… off. They were slightly different than you remembered, but you decided to brush it off for the time being, more focused on talking some sense into your boyfriend.

“Hey ford? Can i… talk to you?” you said gently, trying not to frighten him again. He shook his head a bit, as if trying to shake off some grub from his face and turned to you with an annoyed look. “Not now, honey . Can’t you see I'm working?” He said the pet name with a mocking voice, as if he was making fun of you for thinking you’re more important than his work.

“I know you are, but you're starting to worry me… when was the last time you ate? Or drank water? Or even went to the bathroom?” you tried to push back the uncomfortable feeling threatening to overtake your words, your voice slightly shaking when you asked him the questions.

“It doesn’t matter . All that matters is finishing this page” and with that he went back to his desk, sitting down and ignoring you as if you didn’t exist.

Now you were starting to get angry. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Your health is important! If you don't take care of yourself then you won’t live to see your progress come to fruition!” you put your hand on his shoulder again, more firmly this time. “I made you dinner. Now you’re going to come with me, eat dinner, drink some water and go to sleep. Do you understand?” you turned him around in his chair to look at you. He seemed to flip through several emotions before deciding on one. You didn't quite know what it was, but he was smiling, so you thought he might have finally come to his senses and decided to take a break.

You were only half right.

“You know what? You’re right, toots. I'll take a break, but only if i can take you too” he brought you onto his lap in one swift, strong motion and put his lips against your neck. The sudden movement made a chill run up your spine. You didn’t know if you were more turned on or worried, but ultimately decided that maybe this’ll help ground him and bring the ford you loved back.

You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him passionately. It took a moment for him to register what was happening until he kissed you back, hungrily kissing you and suddenly biting at your tongue. It wasn’t something you were used to, and it definitely surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcomed.

You pulled away a little and he went back to attacking your neck with his lips and teeth, leaving various marks that made your breath hitch. His calloused hands started exploring your body as if it was his first time, awkwardly angling his fingers to touch every part of you from your ankles to your shoulders, and finally down to your breasts.

“God you’re mine now, aren’t you?” The question confused you, since you’ve been dating for a while now, but you decided to go along with it. Maybe it was a new kink of his “yes i’m all yours” you punctuate your point by gently scraping your nails down his chest and onto the waistband of his pants. He groaned at the feeling of your nails on him, his chest puffing up to meet your touch. You chuckle at his desperation. “So needy… you’ve missed me, haven't you?” you tease him lightly, but it didn’t affect him like it usually does. Instead he seems… unfazed “sure i have” he then picks you up and moves you so you’re lying chest down on his desk, and he’s behind you, pushing your middle down so your ass is up in the air for him.

He stands up and you can hear him opening his belt buckle behind you. He seems to be struggling, so you try to turn to him and help him, but he only pushes you down more. “Stupid.. Human… clothes… ugh” you hear him mumbling, but you can’t say anything when you suddenly feel his cold hands under your shirt, feeling you up. You moan under his touch, then hiss as he pinches your waist in an unpleasant way.

“Hey-ah!” you try to scold him, but are interrupted by the feeling of cold air hitting your sensitive area. Ford has pulled down your pants and underwear, and is now angleing himself behind you. You moan as you feel him push himself against you, his chest flat against your back. It takes him a second to push himself inside you, but when he does, he fills you up immediately.

You groan at the sharp pain mixed with the pleasure of having him inside you after so long without him. Before you register what's happening, he starts thrusting into you wildly, with no rhythm or consistency. You try your best not to moan, but it's hard when you feel him pushing into you in such a harsh way.

He holds your hips firmly, trying to stop your squirming. “Come on- ah~ do the thing” you hear him grunting behind you. It feels so good, but the statement still confuses you through the fog of pleasure. What does he mean by ‘the thing’? Your train of thought is stopped when his hand travels to your throat, choking you a little. The sudden feeling of lightheadedness makes you even hornier. This doesn’t feel like something ford would do, but damn it turns you on.

His thrusts start to even out, he doesn't slow down but now they have more of a rhythm. With each one the desk starts to creak under you. It’s straight up animalistic the way he pounds into you, holding onto you like you’re his toy, only used for his pleasure. You feel him twitching inside you, getting close to his release. You clench around him the way you know he likes, and suddenly he cums inside of you. You feel the pleasure inside you come to a peak as he continues to thrust at the same pace, even though he just came.

The pleasure quickly turns into overstimulation as he continues at his rough pace, not letting you go until he finishes inside you again. Your moans turn into screams as you can't even form a coherent thought. At this point you almost reach a second orgasm, but when he suddenly pulls out at you, you’re forced to come down from your high. You whine at the loss and turn around to see him with his hands up in shock, looking down at you guiltily.

“What's wrong ford?” you look up at him with lustful eyes, wanting him to continue.

“I.. uh- nothing is wrong! I'm sorry!” What is he apologising for? “It’s alright, but can you please continue?” now you were frustrated, hoping he would get the hint and continue fucking you.

“Ye-yeah sure.. Of curse” he gently put his hands on your hips, almost hesitating before feeling you up. He gently runs his hand down your stomach and lands on your thigh, stabilising you before slowly entering you. You moan at the sudden change in him. “What has gotten into you- ah!” you moan as he softly circles your clit with his fingers while he starts thrusting into you. You put your hands around his neck and he buries his head in your chest. You hear him mumbling something but you can’t understand it.

He starts pushing in and out of you gently, and the stark contrast from just a second ago makes you confused. What is with him today? You try to dwell on it, but when he starts kissing your chest, fondling your breast with his mouth, your thought process is cut short.

Thanks to his expert fingers on your clit and his even thrusting, you go over the edge. You moan his name as you pull him up to kiss him. It all feels like too much as he stops moving, focusing on kissing you. He pulls out shortly after, taking his time now.

“Does this mean you’re gonna take a break? I think dinner is getting cold” you say softly, kissing his cheek.

“What? Oh yeah- yeah- of course honey” when he says the pet name this time, it feels genuine, like it just rolls off his tongue naturally. You look at him, and find his familiar eyes looking back into yours- slightly confused but loving and caring. This is your ford. The one you fell in love with.

You try to pull yourself off the desk but your legs start wobbling, so ford takes you by the waist and guides you up the stairs. “I’m sorry” he apologises once again, but you reach up to stroke his cheek “it’s alright, i kind of… liked it”

You see a flicker of something dangerous in his eye before it switches to looking terrified, then concerned. “Well.. I'm glad you liked it, but I don't know what came over me. I’m still sorry if i hurt you, my dear” you thought he might be hiding something from you, but that was a discussion for another day. For now, you got your old ford back, and that’s all that matters.

“It’s.. alright. Just give me a warning next time. Jeez” you laugh a little, and you see he starts to relax against you.

“Yeah.. i’ll try” he seems to be lost in thought, but as you enter the kitchen and he sees the dinner you made him, he suddenly loses his train of thought and looks at you like you just brought him the moon.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much! I'm starving!” he picks you up and kisses you, slightly wincing as he feels his muscles tense up after not being in use for who knows how long. He lets go of you and you both go to eat. You’ll have to talk to him sometime soon about your worries, but you stop yourself when you see the look he gives you; full of love and adoration, like you’re the sun to his earth. You decide to confront him another day. You wouldn’t want to ruin a perfect dinner, would you?

#ford pines #ford pines x reader #gravity falls #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #dub con #tw dubcon #ford pines smut #smut #i wasn't expecting to post so soon after my last fic #but ig im inspired

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brokenmenswhore · 3 months ago

Note

Thanks luv! So, you are married to Aemond, yet despite his kindness to you, your sexual activities are treated as a duty (like your marriage). Aegon notices the situation and decides to give you a proper orgasm with his tongue. The issue is that he leaves you without fucking you (saving it for another time), and you can't help but crave him, you are desperate for him to fuck you (and when he does, he does it deliciously, making you feel like the luckiest woman in Westeros).

it’s 1am in nyc and this ask is driving me crazy i need him so bad

satiate | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

Aemond came with one final thrust of his hips, spilling his seed inside of you as you continued to lay stagnant beneath him.

Aemond pulled out of you and rolled over, laying next to you. “Hopefully that will take,” he spoke, catching his breath.

Tonight was not unusual. Since you wed Aemond, sex has been about duty. He was a perfect husband, and was very kind to you, even in bed, but it was always about duty over all else.

“Yes, hopefully,” you responded.

Aemond turned his head toward you. “Are you alright?”

You smiled, appreciative that he was attentive to you. “Yes, thank you,” you responded.

There was nothing wrong with Aemond, and your marriage worked in public. However, you wished there was more passion, more connection, more something in private. This could not be all that sex has to offer. Still, Aemond made sure you consented and were alright.

You knew his brother, Aegon, was familiar with sex, perhaps more than anyone else. You were always attracted to him, and you always wondered what it would be like if it were him trying to impregnate you.

You and Aemond had been married for exactly a fortnight, which meant he had worked to put an heir inside of you exactly fourteen times.

Each morning you rose with a dull aching between your legs that you could not seem to satisfy. You were not sure exactly what it was or how to resolve it, so you spent most mornings in a state of uncomfortableness until the aching went away.

You were subsequently more irritable during the first half of the day, shifting uncontrollably in your seat or nonstop switching the leg holding most of your weight when you stood.

Aegon took pity on you.

He noticed the change in your attitude since your marriage, and after five days, he picked up on you rubbing your thighs together as you tired to get comfortable for breakfast each morning. After nine, he could see the exhaustion in your eyes, and he knew it was from his brother occupying you deep into the hours of the night.

You had been with Aemond long enough for the pain and uncomfortableness of sex to fade away, but it hadn’t seemed to. That meant you that weren’t connecting the way you should, and Aegon suspected that exact truth.

“My brother is incapable of satiating your needs, hm?” Aegon spoke, crossing his arms as he leaned on the wall beside where you were standing and flipping through the pages of a book. You let him into your chambers because he asked to speak to you, but this was not what you expected.

You paused your actions and lifted your head, turning it toward Aegon. “Excuse me?”

“I can sense it,” he responded.

You scoffed, “I do not know to what you refer.”

“Put the book down.”

You looked up at him, and you don’t know why, but you did what he asked. You closed the book and placed it down on the table beside you.

“Lay down on the bed.”

“Do I look like someone-“

“Y/N,” Aegon cut you off, holding up a hand, “do you want my help or not?”

“Help?”

Aegon somewhat pitied your innocence, but he was aroused by it more. “Do you want me to make that aching between your legs go away?”

You took a deep breath. You were embarrassed, but you had nothing to be ashamed of. “I am simply sore. Impregnation can be rather intense.”

Aegon tutted, “no, no, that’s not it. You may not know what it is, but you know it’s not that.”

“Enlighten me then, if you are so well versed in such things,” you teased, trying to ease the tension.

“Are you going to lay down or not?” he asked, not taking the bait and maintaining his serious tone.

You walked over to the bed, sitting and shifting your back against the pillows as you straightened your legs and made yourself comfortable. “Like this?” you asked.

Aegon smiled at you. He thought that you were so cute for checking.

“If you’re comfortable,” he replied, crawling on top of the bed and kneeling in front of you. He pushed your legs apart, hearing your breath hitch as your dress was pushed up to your waist, exposing your small clothes to Aegon.

“May I?” he asked, tugging at the waistband of your small clothes.

You nodded your head yes and swallowed back your nervousness, watching him pull the fabric down your legs, completely exposing you to him.

“You feel the aching right now?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you answered.

Aegon dipped his head until he connected with your folds, placing a soft kiss there.

“What are you doing?” you questioned.

“I’m gonna taste you, darling.”

You shifted in your seated position. “What do you mean?”

Aegon only smiled in response, dipping his head again and running his tongue between your folds.

You gasped at the wet feeling, your head instinctively falling backwards. Aegon began to flick and swirl his tongue, and you moaned at the sensation.

This was completely new to you, and you questioned whether or not you could trust Aegon. You had heard the whispers about him, and how rough he liked things.

You also questioned if this was ethical. It was objectively unfair to bed another man while married, especially your husband’s brother, but despite how wonderful Aemond could be, it was evident that your marriage was political and dutiful only. If Aemond could run to whorehouses when he was not sleeping next to you, you could indulge yourself just this once.

Still, you were nervous about how Aegon would treat you.

“Aegon?”

You caught his attention, but he didn’t stop. He began to suck on your clit, gazing up at you as he did so, showing that he was listening to you.

“Are you going to be nice?”

Aegon moaned into your cunt before briefly pulling away, just long enough to say, “you can trust me.”

Something about the way he said it had you believing him, and your muscles relaxed beneath him as he kissed and sucked at your clit. The stimulation was new, and therefore it was becoming too much too fast.

“Aegon, I-“

Aegon only sped up, pressing his face further into you and carefully watching your face contort as you whined. He held a firm grip on your hips to ensure you stayed where he wanted you, and you felt the familiar aching rise in the pit of your stomach again.

“Aegon-“ you called again, but he still didn’t let up.

Within seconds you felt the aching coil snap, your legs shaking and your hips briefly lifting off the bed as you felt like the feeling you had between your legs for weeks was finally broken.

You caught your breath, and Aegon pulled away from you to level his face with your own.

“Good, huh?” he teased.

You couldn’t help yourself. Instead of responding, you pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard to show your thanks. Aegon’s body reacted instantly, reciprocating the kiss. You felt somewhat bad that it was so quick, but the feeling was so sweet and so new, and you couldn’t help yourself.

You tasted something salty-sweet on his lips. You pulled away and wiped a finger over your lips, sucking the digit and tasting the wetness, looking at Aegon in confusion.

“That’s you,” Aegon said, nearly growling at the sight.

Your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, which Aegon found amusing, as he kissed you again, before leaving the bed completely.

You shifted forward onto your knees and crawled to the opposite edge of the bed, trying to catch him but too weak to stand. “Where are you going?”

“Aemond will be back soon,” he said, adjusting his clothing.

You don’t know why you said it, but you were feeling bold, and what he made you feel was so good, you wanted more.

“Aegon, I want you.”

Aegon smiled and dropped his head momentarily. He turned back to you, as if he intended to say something, but he promptly righted himself and exited the room, leaving you alone to do nothing but crave him.

The following morning, the Targaryen-Hightowers were all gathered for breakfast with some guests, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Aegon. You desperately wanted more from him, and you wanted that much to be obvious to him, but it was hard to do much with Aemond present.

It was even difficult to speak to him; you and Aegon usually did not have private conversations. When he tried to speak to you without a group setting, you often blushed and found a reason to leave, unsure of how to speak to someone you were so attracted to, especially if they were not your husband.

However, right now, all you wanted was to be near him.

“Rather beautiful day it appears,” you spoke, approaching his chair, where he was already seated and drinking, despite the early hour.

“Wouldn’t know,” he said, taking a sip from his cup, “considering we’re inside.”

You sighed, your hormones taking over you as you leaned closer to him, speaking at a volume only he could hear. “Evidently, I just needed a reason to speak to you.”

Aegon shifted in his chair so he could see behind him. “And what would you need to speak to me for?”

“Speaking it not exactly what I need you for, Aegon, and you know it.”

Aegon took another sip. “I know not to what you refer.”

He tried to remain stoic, but you could see him holding back a smirk.

You began to turn away, “Very well, if you insist on forgetting, then I am sure that Aemond will be happy to satis-“

Aegon grabbed your wrist, and his features no longer had any hint of amusement. “I am rather sure he wouldn’t.” You knew any mention that his brother was better than him would immediately cause him to drop the wall he always had up.

“No, no, I can simply just ask-“

“You needn’t worry about doing such a thing. He wouldn’t be able to help you.”

You smiled. This is what you wanted. He left you hot and bothered, finally getting a taste of pleasure, and now you had him wrapped around your finger. You felt so empowered, so sensual, so powerful.

“And you believe yourself capable of satiating me?” you teased, completely ignoring the fact that you had in fact approached him to say that you needed him.

“Only I can,” he responded.

You pulled out of his grip and took residence by your husband’s side again, including yourself in the conversation he was having with two guests, as well as Heleana, who often stayed next to Aemond so that she didn’t have to do any of the talking.

When the meal was finished, you left arm-in-arm with your husband, who waited until you were out of view to shift in front of you. “How do you feel?”

Fuck. Does he know? How would he know?

“What?”

“How do you feel? It has been a fortnight, surely an early pregnancy would be somewhat present by now,” Aemond elaborated.

“Oh,” you took a sigh of relief, “I do not know, I do not feel much different.”

Aemond leaned in and placed a kiss on your forehead. “That is alright, we still have time.”

You smiled at him as he turned around and left, off to attend to his daily duties as you retreated to your chambers.

You were not in your room for even an entire minute before there was nonstop banging at your door.

You swung the door open. “Gods, could you have possibly hit the door any harder?”

Aegon didn’t respond, he just stepped into your apartment and slammed the door behind him, gripping your arms and spinning you until you were flipped, and backing you up until your back was pressed against the door.

“Aeg-“

He didn’t let you speak. He pressed his lips against yours, and your hands instinctively held either side of his face as his hands found your hips, pressing himself into you. You whined at the sudden contact, which only encouraged Aegon to continue as he peppered kisses down your jawline to your neck.

He pulled away, locking his eyes with your own. “Is this what you wanted? You wanted me?” His hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head upward. “You want me to make you feel things Aemond can’t?”

You could feel his muscles tense as he spoke your husband’s name, but Aemond wasn’t the one here with you right now.

“Yes,” you replied, “but I do not wish to think of Aemond right now.”

“No? Not your husband?”

Aegon was trying to maintain his intensity, but deep down, he was still just a boy who needed to be told he was wanted.

“I only want you, Aegon.”

Aegon let out a breath he was subconsciously holding in. He kissed you again, this time softer, grateful for your words.

“Jump,” he whispered.

“Jump?” you clarified.

“Would you trust me?”

You jumped upward and Aegon moved his arms to hold up your legs, forcing them to wrap around his waist. You squealed at the feeling, scared he would drop you, but you were secure.

He backed away from the door and walked you over to the bed, your head resting on his shoulder as he did so.

He was being nice enough to you that you assumed he would guide you down or slowly lower you, but instead, he slammed you against the bed, your legs untangling from his waist as you hit the mattress.

You opened your mouth in playful offense. “Aegon!”

He shrugged his shoulders, crawling on top of you. “Yeah?”

“What do you mean, yeah? What if that broke the bed?”

“Darling, if the bed doesn’t break, then I didn’t do my job.”

That was the second time he called you darling, and you loved hearing such an affectionate name directed at you, especially from him. You wondered if he had ever called his whores any affectionate names. Was this even as big of a deal to him as it was to you?

Aegon could see you lost in your thoughts as he loomed over you. “Something on your mind?”

“Just nervous, is all,” you responded.

“We can stop if you wish to,” he said.

You looked into his eyes, and you were surprised to see how genuine he was. You could tell he didn’t want to stop, but it was a relief knowing you could stop this any time, even though you had no desire to do so.

“I do not wish to stop.”

That was all the consent Aegon needed to kiss you again, refusing to break away from you as his hands moved to pull up your dress, exposing your small clothes to him once again.

He pulled them down your legs without even looking, and immediately ran a finger between your folds. You whined into the kiss, your hips instinctively lifting to chase the feeling.

Aegon continued to kiss you as he moved his finger lower and lower, slowly pushing it into you. You gasped, and Aegon considered breaking the kiss, but he was addicted. He wasn’t going to pull away until you made him.

The feeling was strange and unfamiliar, but that didn’t mean it was bad. You relaxed your body and trusted Aegon, allowing him to continue touching you as he moved his finger in and out. You were squirming beneath him, but he didn’t care. He was just happy to have the privilege of seeing how your body reacted to him.

After a few moments he removed his hand from you, still kissing you, and pushed his breeches down until his cock hit his stomach.

He used your wetness, that was now on his fingers, to lubricate his cock as he lined his tip up with your entrance. Only then did he pull away from the kiss.

“Are you ready?” he asked, gentle and genuine.

“Yes,” you said, knowing that verbal confirmation was better than a nod.

Aegon kept his eyes on yours as he slowly began to push into you. This feeling was not new, but it was different than what you were used to. Your body was becoming to used to Aemond, molded to Aemond, and the change confused your body for a brief few moments before settling in.

“Can I move?” Aegon checked.

“Aegon, I trust you, there is no need to ask,” you spoke, nearly a whisper, your voice weak.

You meant every word. You were appreciative that Aegon was so attentive to your comfort, but you weren’t exactly sure what was to come, and you wanted him to just get on with it already.

He dipped his head into the crook of your neck as he began to move, fighting to maintain his composure and move slowly. He set a steady pace, but after a brief few minutes, you tangled your fingers in his hair, absentmindedly playing with the strands, and it drove him crazy.

His self control slipped, and he began to move faster inside of you, snapping his hips harder and harder. You instinctively tugged on his hair, and he lifted his head up to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said, truly not meaning to pull on his hair or hurt him.

“Fuck, don’t be,” he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, “I swear I’m trying to go easy on you, you’re just so, so-“

Aegon lost his sentence, gazing down at where your bodies met.

“I do not need you to go easy on me,” you whined.

Aegon did not confirm that you meant it, but instead dropped his head again, resting his head next to yours as he thrust harder, hitting your hips slightly upward with each stroke.

Your back arched and your head tilted further and further backward. This was not entirely unfamiliar to you, but it felt different simply because you were excited, and you knew Aegon wouldn’t let it end until your needs were satiated.

“Aegon,” you moaned, and the sound was natural, and so pretty falling from your lips.

Aegon lifted his head up again. “Do that again.”

You whimpered another, “Aegon,” as he fucked you hard, nearly pulling out entirely with each thrust before slamming himself back into you again.

The pace was excruciating, and you were sure your hips would bruise form the force of his own hitting them each time he bottomed out.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered in your ear, only adding to your arousal as you held onto his shoulders.

Your cunt squeezed his cock, and he let out a small chuckle. “You like it when I talk to you?” he groaned.

You nodded your head up and down, incapable of speaking as you lost yourself in the pleasure. One of his hands snaked between your bodies and began to slowly run circles around your clit, forcing you to release a rather filthy moan.

“Good girl,” he cooed as your cunt squeezed him again.

The feeling of his cock in you mixed with the feeling of him touching you was too much, and the uncomfortable feeling began to rise in your stomach again.

You anxiously chased the feeling of the breakage, completely letting Aegon take control of your pleasure as the pressure dropped, your juices coating his cock as he removed his hand.

“Fuck, just like that,” he moaned, using the feeling of your orgasm to chase his own high.

He kissed you again as he came, his seed spilling inside of you. You didn’t care enough to stop him or have him climax elsewhere. Everything felt too good for you to care.

Aegon watched your bodies disconnect as he pulled himself out of you, falling onto the bed next to you.

“Thank you,” you spoke through shaky and tired breaths.

Aegon laughed. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I’m thankful.”

“Your husband will be as well when you end up with child.”

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. “I did not want to stop you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Aegon said, rolling on his side to be closer to you, “idiot wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between my child and his child anyway.”

“Enough about him,” you said, turning so that you were face-to-face with Aegon, “I’m here with you.”

Aegon leaned forward and kissed you softly, smiling as he pulled away and rested his head on the pillow.

#aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen drabble #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen one shot #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen imagines #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #house of the dragon #asks

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casualhedonists · 1 year ago

Text

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading <3

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#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth

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chvoswxtch · 11 months ago

Text

slumber party

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid

summary: while en route to a case, the four of you let off a little steam.

warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, a lil angst, derek morgan's smile, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: let's be real. you didn't come here for a plot, and I didn't write one. enjoy this slutty vision I had in the shower. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

The jet was quiet apart from the sporadic sound of pages being flipped and Spencer’s occasional soft noises of either being intrigued or perplexed regarding details of the case, deciphered only by their volume and pitch. Hotch had read the same paragraph on the report at least seven times, and there seemed to be some kind of disconnect between his tired eyes and unresponsive brain. Letting out a quiet irritated exhale and diverting his attention to the top of the paragraph yet again, a soft noise caused his ears to perk up.

Finally looking up from the report for the first time in half an hour since he originally sat down, creases furrowed in the midst of his forehead when he glanced towards the other end of the jet and caught sight of you. From where he sat, all he could see was the back of your head since you seemed to be facing the back of the seat you were in, which he found extremely odd. But as he craned his neck, he noticed a familiar pair of hands on your hips and instantly clenched his jaw.

“Son of a bitch.”

The second Hotch shot up out of his chair, Spencer finally tore his own eyes away from the report and turned his head to follow Hotch’s angry march down the aisle of the jet with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Now that there were no obstructions in his line of sight, Hotch had the full view of you sitting topless on Derek’s lap with your skirt bunched up around your waist, grinding your hips down in a slow but sensual rhythm. Derek’s hands were firmly grasped on your hips to help guide your movements, and his face was buried into your exposed chest.

“Morgan you greedy fucker.”

The sound of Hotch’s angry voice booming in the comfortable silence caused you to immediately tense up and stop moving, but Derek wasn’t having any of that. He gripped a little tighter onto your hip and gave your ass a light smack, pulling his head back to look at you with that dazzling smile of his that could make anyone weak in the knees.

“No no no no, keep goin’ baby girl. Don’t worry about him. You just keep doing what you’re doing…that’s it.”

Derek leaned his head back against the seat, looking over at Hotch with that same charming grin on his face. His warm chocolate brown eyes were glazed over with lust and had been eclipsed into half moons of pleasure.

“Sorry Hotch, she just looked too goddamn good.”

“What’s going on back-oh.”

As Spencer took his place beside Hotch, his eyes immediately went wide at the sight he was met with. He seemed to be completely mesmerized by the erotic flow of your hips while you languidly rode Derek’s cock as you sat topless on his lap. While Spencer was bewitched by the spell of your hips, Hotch was furious. The stern look that seemed to be his default expression was unaffected by the show taking place before him.

“Morgan, you know the rules-”

“Come on, Hotch. We still got another hour before we land. Lighten up a little. You know, some stress relief would do you a whole lotta good.”

Before Hotch had a chance to respond, Spencer was already stepping forward and unbuttoning his cardigan.

“You could’ve at least asked us to join.”

Derek let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your smooth thighs as he flexed his hips upwards to match your pacing.

“Hey, you were the one more invested in exactly how many trees there are in the Acadia National Park than you were in the beautiful woman on the plane, pretty boy.”

“Well if I had known-”

Letting out a frustrated huff, you stopped moving and placed your hand over Derek’s mouth before turning to look at Spencer and Hotch over your shoulder.

“Boys, you know I hate it when you argue. It makes me dry up.”

Spencer dropped his forgotten cardigan on the chair behind himself, his attention solely fixed on you again. In the dim lighting of the plane, you could just barely see that the green flecks in his honey eyes had deepened into a wicked hue. He ran his fingers gently through your hair before cradling your face in one hand and starting to unbuckle his belt with the other, all while looking at you and dragging his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, we can get you wet again.”

“Not if you’re all standing around bickering instead of fucking me.”

Hotch wasn’t giving in, no matter how badly he wanted to. It was late, he was exhausted, he was beyond sexually frustrated, but above all he was fucking stubborn.

“There is one rule on this fucking plane. When we are en route to a case, we are focused on the case. Playtime is for after.”

Brushing Spencer’s hand away from his belt, a smirk tugged across your lips as you looked up at him and began to unbuckle it yourself, which only caused him to bite down on his bottom lip seductively. Throwing a glance over your shoulder at Hotch, you could visibly see just how pissed off he was, but as your gaze wandered down south, you could also see the outline of his impressive cock starting to strain against his pants. Sinking your teeth into your own bottom lip, you looked up at Hotch through your, flashing him a sultry smile while you teasingly unzipped Spencer’s pants slowly.

“Aw, come on, Aaron. If anyone needs some relief, it’s you. Just come have a little fun with us.”

The hardness in Hotch’s glare wavered only slightly at the provocative sound of your voice. It was an unrelenting struggle to keep his eyes focused directly on yours and to not let them roam over your body. If he let his gaze wander for even a split second to see the way your nipples were peaked from the cool air in the cabin, the way your soft hand was caressing Spencer’s cock through his pants, or the way your ass moved against Derek’s lap while you fucked him, he would break. While Derek began to flex his hips upwards a little harder to fuck up into you now that there was no longer a reason to stay quiet, you were pulling Spencer’s cock out of his briefs and leaning over to take him into your mouth.

Before he could watch you wrap your lips around Spencer’s tip, Hotch quickly looked away and stormed off towards the other end of the jet, dropping into his chair and loosening his tie with a hardened scowl on his face.

“You’re all getting written up.”

“For what?”

Derek's protest was only faintly heard since Hotch’s blood was now pounding in his ears like a high school marching band, and throbbing in other places.

“Insubordination.”

There was a slight growl to his voice as he barked back at Derek, not even bothering to look up as he angrily began to look through the case file again, but he couldn't focus. No matter how hard he tried, all he could hear was Derek and Spencer praising you in tandem as they each took an offering from your body, and the soft noises of gratitude that flowed from your lips. It was absolute fucking torture. He thought about palming himself through his pants, just to get a little reprieve without alerting any of you to his moment of weakness. But he was so fucking angry with all of you, he didn’t even want to give in.

His mind was a jumbled concoction of juxtaposed thoughts, none of which had anything to do with the case in front of him. Hotch wasn’t sure why he was so pissed off right now. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had joined in, it wasn’t like the four of you hadn’t done it before. It certainly would’ve put him in a better mood. But this was a big case, and Strauss had been on his ass more than usual lately, and things at the BAU had been so chaotic that the team was getting split up just to keep up with the influx of cases coming across JJ’s desk.

Maybe it was a mistake not to send you with Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss. The air always shifted when you were alone with him, Reid, and Morgan. It was inevitable. Maybe that’s why he ordered you to come with him, because even if he didn’t want to consciously admit it, subconsciously he knew that this was exactly what he needed. He needed you, and the peace that you brought him.

The sharp sound of a smack landing on flesh caught his attention, and Hotch looked up to see that the three of you had moved to the bench directly in his line of sight. Derek had his head thrown back as pounded into you from behind, occasionally smacking his hand against your ass while he grunted about how tight and wet you always were. Spencer held your hair back while he fucked your mouth, watching you as he moaned praises of what a good girl you were. Your face was obstructed by Spencer’s back, but Hotch could hear how much you were enjoying yourself, and he couldn’t look away.

As Derek and Spencer came in unison, Hotch gripped onto the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned stark white, and he inhaled a sharp breath that he let out slowly through his nose. Gritting his teeth, he glared down at the blur of black ink on the pages, listening to the sound of your angelic laughter and kisses being exchanged between the three of you. Why was he doing this to himself? Why hadn’t he just fucking given in and joined?

While Spencer was sitting on the couch with his pants around his ankles, head back against the window with a blissed out look on his face, Derek snaked his arm around your waist and pressed a soft kiss to your neck before whispering into your ear.

“Do me a favor, baby girl. Go take care of grumpy over there.”

Letting out a quiet giggle, you turned and brushed your nose against Derek’s before kissing him softly.

“Already ahead of you, D.”

Discarding your skirt completely, you dropped it in Spencer’s laugh and planted a quick kiss to his lips before sauntering down the aisle of the plane, completely naked. Hotch glanced up when he caught the smell of your familiar perfume and looked at you with a halfhearted glare. All you could do was smile at the sight of his thick brows furrowed and the permanent scowl that he always seemed to wear. You both knew he couldn’t stay mad at you, and he didn’t even put up a fight when you made him lean back against his seat so you could sit on his lap.

“Why are you so mad baby, hm?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you ran one of your hands through his dark brown hair, giving a gentle tug at the root which earned a quiet grunt from him. As you leaned in to place featherlight kisses along his jaw, you could feel his body physically relax, as well as how much his hardened cock was straining against his pants. But despite the giveaways from his body, Hotch wouldn’t budge. He didn’t make a move to touch you, and he didn’t speak. He was always the hardest of the three to break, but you knew exactly where his weak points were.

“Oh, you don’t wanna talk, huh? That’s okay. I’d prefer to do something else with my mouth right now anyway.”

Gently biting down on his earlobe, you felt his thighs tense up beneath you and a quiet grunt sound from his chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. As you got off his lap, you slowly got down onto your knees in front of Hotch and unbuckled his belt. Since he was already in a sour mood, you decided to skip the teasing, and honestly you were so turned on yourself that you didn’t have the patience for it.

He was trying so hard not to give in while you were pulling the leather of his belt out of the buckle, and even as you were unbuttoning his pants and tugging down the zipper, he was trying to appear completely unbothered while looking at the case files. But the second he felt your luscious lips wrap around the throbbing head of his cock that was slick with pre-cum, he completely lost it.

Letting his head fall back against the seat, he closed his eyes and his lips parted as he focused solely on the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue sliding against the underside of his sensitive tip. In that moment he completely forgot whatever he was mad about. Every single coherent thought in his head vanished, and all that was left was you.

You don’t mind when he slips his hand into your hair and grips at it roughly, or when he starts to push his hips upwards to seek out more. It was rare that Hotch ever gave in to his selfish desires, and you were all too eager to let him. The sight above you was one you wished you could frame. His dark brown hair was messy from you running your fingers through it and his eyes were peacefully screwed shut. There was a twinge of heat covering his cheeks, and his lips were parted further as heavy pants and soft whimpers escaped. Those little noises only make you want to steal more of them from the man that was normally so stoic and closed off.

All of a sudden, Hotch roughly pulled at your hair causing you to moan around him. He grunted while leaning down to slip his hands under your arms, pulling you up from your knees and shoving all the reports off the table in front of him carelessly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up onto the table, and you immediately spread your legs wide for him to slot through. Without wasting another second, Hotch pulled you towards the edge of the table and easily slipped his thick cock inside your drenched pussy. Both of you moaned simultaneously at the contact, and he only faltered for a second before he started to aggressively snap his hips against yours.

Faintly, you can hear Derek whistling from the other side of the plane and the sound of him clapping as he calls out to Hotch.

“There he is. Come on, Hotch. Give us a show.”

When you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, Hotch wrapped one of his large hands around your throat and lightly squeezed. You can tell he’s still frustrated by the feral way he’s fucking you against the table, but you can feel just how badly he needs this release. Sneaking one of your hands down to play with your clit, you only get away with it for a few seconds before Hotch roughly smacks your hand away and tightens his grip on your throat. He replaces your hand with his own and starts to furiously rub quick circles over your sensitive clit, tearing a sharp moan from your chest. You can feel how close he is already by the way his rhythm starts to falter. When he speaks, his voice is so low and husky that it almost sounds like a growl.

“You insatiable little slut. You haven’t come enough already? You think you deserve to come again after the way you’ve been acting?”

“Aaron-”

“Shut up.”

The only thing you can hear over the obscene sound of Hotch’s thighs smacking against your ass with every powerful thrust and the lewd squelching of his cock disappearing over and over inside your tight cunt is the dark chuckle that sounded from Spencer before he spoke.

“Uh oh, someone pissed off Daddy.”

The way you moan Hotch’s name nearly has him combusting right there. When he starts to rub your clit harder, your jaw becomes unhinged and hangs open, but nothing comes out. You can’t speak, you can’t even make a sound. Hotch grunts as his pace becomes even more fervent and brutal. He was fucking you with everything he had, using your body to expel every ounce of pent up frustration, and you were already ascending into the clouds.

“You wanna come so fucking badly? Then do it.”

The tightening of your cunt around his cock sends both of you over the edge, and both of your moans seem to echo in the small space of the cabin. Hotch continues to fuck you wildly through his orgasm, gripping onto the edge of the table to steady himself. Once he starts to slow down after emptying himself inside of you completely, the blissed out smile that replaces the frown on his mouth makes you giggle, and it causes him to finally open his eyes and look down at you with an arch of his brow.

“What?”

“Better?”

Hotch just stares down at you for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes before he finally gives in, his lips parting into that wide grin that you love so much but rarely get to see. Taking a moment to catch his breath, a light chuckle leaves him as he gazes down at you with softer eyes this time and brushes your hair away from your face gently.

“You know, the whole point of me being your boss is you’re supposed to actually listen to me.”

“You of all people know I listen very well.”

The sultry tone of your voice and the implications behind it caused Hotch to smirk, and you can feel the effect it has when you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against your own and gave your ass a light smack.

“When you’re being a good girl and not such a brat.”

A soft noise of surprise left your lips when he smacked your ass, and you giggled while grabbing his face in your hands to pull him in for a soft and slow kiss.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

Rolling his eyes, Hotch reluctantly pulled out of you with a soft hiss and helped you down from the table. He ran one of his hands through his hair and took another deep breath before tucking his softened cock back into his pants.

“Alright, everyone back to work.”

“Wait, everyone got to fuck her but me, that’s not fair.”

Hotch glanced down at his watch on his wrist before looking over at Spencer, shooting him a pointed look when he caught the slight pout on Spencer’s lips.

“We’re landing in twenty minutes and we still need to prep.”

As Spencer began to protest, you walked over towards him and placed your hand on his chest, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Don’t worry, Spence. I’ll share a room with you tonight, and you can fuck me all you want.”

Spencer’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas, but Derek and Hotch immediately began to protest as they shared a look before staring at the two of you with looks of frustration.

“Whoa whoa whoa-“

“That’s not-“

Spencer wrapped his arms around you to pull you in, bending down to kiss you deeply while grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze tightly causing you to giggle. He nipped at your bottom lip before turning to look at Hotch and Derek with a smug smirk.

“Don’t worry. Unlike you two, I know how to share. Maybe we can all have a slumber party.”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @avencol

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner smut #derek morgan #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x female reader #derek morgan x fem!reader #derek morgan x f!reader #derek morgan fic #derek morgan smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x f!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner x you x derek morgan x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x reader x derek morgan x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x female reader x derek morgan x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x f!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid #criminal minds

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benevolentbones · 5 months ago

Note

Part two to the clumsy au?

clumsy | spencer reid x reader part 2

part 1 | part 3

warnings: clumsiness (obviously) just fluff

word count: 1.2k

a/n: thank you for your support on part 1! i hope you enjoy<3 maybe i’ll write a part 3!

spencer released his hold on you, making sure you had your footing before the two of you scrambled onto the jet. everyone was seated for takeoff so you quickly plopped yourself down on the couch, spencer taking a seat beside you.

the flight was around three and a half hours give or take, and as the team were already fully briefed, there was no work to be done on the plane. spencer pulled out a book from his to go bag and began scanning the pages.

you took this as an opportunity to get some well needed sleep, you shifted your position on the couch, kicking off your shoes and stretching your legs over spencer’s lap. the hazel eyed man didn’t even flinch, he turned another page in his book before letting his hand rest against your calf.

you cuddled down into the couch, hooking one of the cushions under your arm and within five minutes you were out like a light.

spencer continued flicking through his book, every so often casting his hazel eyes on your sleeping form as you stirred slightly.

you shifted in your sleep, adjusting your position so that now your feet were once where your head was, and your head rested gently against spencer’s lap.

how you managed to do this and not wake up was beyond spencer.

“i need to get a picture of this.” morgan chuckled out, the tall male now standing in front of the couch with his phone in hand.

spencer had migrated his arm to rest on your shoulder, in a protective manner, his book still secure in his other hand.

his eyes met with derek and he gave the older man a sarcastic smile.

“don’t worry pretty boy, i’ll send it to you.” he winked before snapping a photo and shuffling to the other end of the jet.

once the plane landed you began to wake up, rubbing your eyes to escape the sleep, spencer was still at your side and he shot you a small smile, closing his book.

“good morning sleeping beauty, ready to do some work?” you heard derek call out from across the jet, as the team began to assemble their respective belongings before exiting the plane.

your cheeks flushed as you got up, slipping your shoes back on.

“thanks for letting me sleep on you, you’re very comfortable.”

“was no problem.” spencer replied, walking out of the jet.

it was cold. that’s all you could think about as the team worked into the night. everyone had set up in the local police station, running through case files and attempting to put a profile together for the unsub.

hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowing as he scanned page after page. it was nearing one in the morning and he could tell the team was starting to lose focus.

“alright, let’s head to the hotel. we can resume in the morning.” he announced, earning nods from everyone.

the team piled into a car which drove to the nearest hotel, hotch handed out keycards to the rooms and everyone said their goodnights.

you shuffled down the hall, to go bag slung over your shoulder with spencer following beside you.

derek was about ten doors down and emily, hotch and jj were one floor up. and as it turned out, spencer and you were one room apart.

spencer came to a stop outside his door, leaning against the wooden frame as you stumbled with your keycard.

“i’ll see you in the morning, y/n. sleep well.” he mumbled in a hushed tone as to not wake up people in nearby rooms.

“night spence.” you whispered back, finally pushing your door open and walking into your room.

spencer ran a hand through his dark locks, letting out a small sigh before retreating into his room.

you adjusted the bag strap on your shoulder, looking around the room. it was nice, there was a double bed positioned in the centre of the room, the oakwood headboard pressed snug against the wallpaper. there was a small desk to the right which was made of the same wood as the bed frame, and a tv mounted on the wall.

there was another door to your right, which you assumed to be the bathroom.

“mm a shower would be great right now.” you mumbled to yourself, walking into the bathroom. you switched the light on, dropping your to go bag at your feet and turned on the shower to let the water heat up.

spencer had collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. in all honesty, he missed you. he enjoyed being around you, he liked that you felt comfortable enough around him to sleep on him during the flight. and in the last few weeks of knowing you, he had fallen for you.

he shook the thoughts of you from his mind, rolling over in his bed attempting to get some sleep. he was just drifting off until rhythmic knocking caught his attention.

spencer sat up, running a hand over his face before ambling over to the door. the door creaked open, revealing no other than you.

you muttered out a small “hi” folding your arms around your torso. you were drenched, head to toe, still in your clothes from earlier. your shirt practically stuck to your skin, droplets of water hung from your face.

“y/n- what happened?” concern lacing spencer’s voice.

“the pipe broke…in the shower.” you paused running a hand through your wet hair. “all the towels and my bag- got wet.” you gave him an awkward smile, rocking back and forth on your feet.

without another word spencer ushered you into his hotel room, you stood in the doorway as you watched him get a fresh towel from the bathroom.

you had never seen him look so, casual, but then again he was wearing his pyjamas. these consisted of a plain black tshirt and grey sweatpants.

“here, you can go into the bathroom and dry off, i’ll give you something to wear.” he mumbled, averting your gaze as he didn’t want to stare too long at how form fitting your clothes became when wet.

“thanks.”

spencer walked over to his bag, digging around for a spare set of anything you could wear. he opted for a rather baggy hoodie and his spare pj pants.

“i’m leaving them by the door, y/n. come out when you’re ready.” he affirmed, going back to sit on his bed.

a few minutes later you emerged from the bathroom, your hair was still a little damp and the hoodie came down to your mid thigh.

“sorry about all of this, i know i’m a bit of a handful.” you let out a shy chuckle, wandering over to spencer’s bed and taking a seat beside the taller man.

“no it’s no problem really… i actually like the hoodie on you.” he gave you a smile which made your face heat up.

“anyway…i don’t mean to be keeping you up so i’ll see you in the morning.” you mumbled out, beginning to stand up.

words flooded out of spencer’s mouth before he could even think.

“why don’t you stay here, with me?” immediately his face flushed a bright shade of pink. “or-like you can go it’s- you don’t have to.”

a small giggle escaped your lips, you placed a hand on spencer’s forearm.

“i’d like that spence.”

taglist: @0108s22m

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction

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bestofmultiverse · 14 days ago

Text

Between the pages || 2

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

" I was half in love with her by the time we sat down. That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they’re not much to look at, or even if they’re sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. "

- J.D. Salinger, The catcher in the rye

Part 1 • Part 3 • 4 • 5

Y/N blinked, trying to get her bearings in the soft morning light streaming into her bedroom. She wasn’t on the sofa anymore, and she certainly hadn’t fallen asleep in her bed last night. But here she was, tucked neatly under her comforter, and beside her, separated by a few pillows, lay Aubrey. She was asleep, her face softened by rest, her features even more striking in the early morning calm.

A smile crept across Y/N’s face as she studied Aubrey’s peaceful expression. She was undeniably beautiful—not just beautiful for her age, but in a way that felt timeless and grounded. It made Y/N’s stomach flutter, and a slight pang of insecurity hit her; Aubrey was everything Y/N admired—confident, talented, and effortlessly alluring.

Feeling her heart race at the thought of Aubrey waking up to see her staring, Y/N slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, padding to the bathroom for a quick shower. When she returned, she busied herself in the kitchen, quietly making breakfast. The faint hum of the radio kept her company as she toasted bread and scrambled eggs, relishing the simple, cozy act.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice murmured, soft and sleepy, breaking Y/N out of her thoughts.

Y/N turned, catching sight of Aubrey leaning against the doorway, her hair still mussed from sleep. She looked comfortable, yet somehow effortlessly poised, even in Y/N’s small kitchen. Y/N blushed, realizing how close they were.

“Good morning! Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asked, smiling. “I don’t really drink coffee, but I can go grab you some from the café around the corner if you’d like.”

Aubrey’s lips curved into a warm smile. “No need, this is perfect. I’m just happy to be here.” She stepped closer, glancing at the plates Y/N was setting up.

“So… not to rush you out, but I have a mountain of work today,” Y/N said with a small, guilty grin. “You’re welcome to stay, but just a heads-up—I might be a little boring.”

Aubrey laughed, her expression softening. “That’s okay, I get it. I have some things to get to anyway.” She hesitated, then continued, “But… I’d love to see you again, if you’d like that.”

Y/N’s face lit up, her smile wide and genuine. “I’d love that too.”

From then on, their connection only grew. They read together, taking turns with books y/n recommended, and spent hours talking about everything from their childhood dreams to favorite movies. After their third date—a late-night visit to a bookstore followed by a stroll through a quiet park—Aubrey walked Y/N home. They held hands, a shared warmth between them, and when they reached Y/N’s door, Aubrey leaned in, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her lips. It was careful, as if reading Y/N’s shyness and matching it with tenderness.

As the days turned into weeks, they grew more comfortable, falling into each other’s lives seamlessly. Aubrey was patient, taking her time to get to know Y/N. She made Y/N feel safe, and Y/N adored every minute they spent together. Soon, they were FaceTiming in between meetings, texting about little things that made them think of each other, and finding moments to be together whenever they could.

When they finally crossed that last boundary, sharing their first night together, it was both gentle and passionate. They communicated, both eager yet considerate, learning each other’s wants and needs. Aubrey’s natural confidence took over, her assertiveness balanced by her desire to make Y/N feel loved and respected. Y/N, in turn, was just as attentive, savoring every moment with Aubrey, discovering a balance between playful and deeply intimate.

Two months into their relationship, it wasn’t just the two of them who noticed how special their connection was. After a dinner date, a paparazzi photographer managed to capture a candid shot of them leaving the restaurant hand in hand. By morning, the image was everywhere, spreading faster than Y/N could have imagined.

Aubrey’s publicist called with the news, explaining that the story had already taken off. Y/N knew Aubrey was a public figure, but she hadn’t expected their private moments to become public conversation so suddenly. Their little bubble was shattered, and suddenly her face was online, next to Aubrey’s in articles and tabloid stories speculating about their relationship.

The attention was overwhelming. Y/N’s friends started teasing her about dating “the Aubrey Plaza,” while her family’s reaction was more complicated. They had always known she was queer, but the age difference gave them pause, making them wonder if Y/N was really ready for such a serious relationship.

As the media frenzy grew, it was hard for Y/N to brush off the harsh comments online—insinuations about why Aubrey would date someone younger, or assumptions about Y/N’s motives. It felt as if the world was intruding into their private life, prying apart the joy they had found together.

But Aubrey was her anchor through it all. Late one evening, after Y/N shared how overwhelmed she felt, Aubrey wrapped her arms around her and whispered, “Forget them. I know who you are, and you know who I am. The rest… it doesn’t matter.”

They held each other close that night, letting the world outside fade, finding comfort in each other’s presence. And as they lay there, Y/N knew that, no matter the scrutiny, what she shared with Aubrey was real, something worth fighting for—even if they’d have to face the world together, one step at a time.

As days went on, the intensity of the media attention didn’t exactly die down, but Y/N and Aubrey learned to adjust. Aubrey handled it with practiced ease, guiding Y/N with little tips on how to ignore the comments and dodge prying eyes. Despite the pressure, they found solace in each other, learning to carve out quiet moments that felt like their own little world.

One evening, they decided to stay in for a movie night at Y/N’s apartment. Y/N had loaded up a few of Aubrey’s favorite old films, trying her best to make it feel special—a few candles, some popcorn, and a cozy blanket they could share.

“You know,” Aubrey said, settling down next to Y/N, “I don’t think I’ve had a better night in ages.” She glanced around, smiling at the thoughtful touches Y/N had put together. “You really went all out.”

Y/N blushed, nudging her playfully. “It’s just popcorn and candles. Hardly a red carpet.”

Aubrey smirked, tilting her head. “It’s the thought, and you, that make it perfect.” She reached for Y/N’s hand, entwining their fingers, and squeezed gently.

As the movie started, they fell into a comfortable silence, Y/N nestled into Aubrey’s side. The world outside felt far away, reduced to nothing more than the faint city hum in the distance. Halfway through the film, Aubrey leaned over and softly kissed Y/N’s forehead, her lips lingering just a little longer than usual. Y/N looked up, her heart skipping as she met Aubrey’s gentle gaze.

“Thank you for sticking with me through all of this,” Aubrey murmured, tucking a loose strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear.

Y/N’s hand found its way to Aubrey’s cheek, tracing the soft lines of her face. “I’m not going anywhere. I knew this might be hard, but… you’re worth it.” She offered a small, reassuring smile. “And I’m learning. I mean, I’ve got the best teacher.”

Aubrey chuckled, pulling Y/N closer. “Flattery will get you everywhere, just so you know.”

They spent the rest of the night laughing, sharing stories, and talking about the little things they hadn’t yet told each other. Y/N felt a kind of warmth she hadn’t felt before—a love that was both grounding and freeing, as if Aubrey had opened up parts of herself she didn’t know existed.

A few weeks later, they decided to spend a weekend out of the city, heading to a secluded cabin by the lake. Aubrey had rented it on a whim, sensing that they both needed a little time to breathe away from the constant hum of the city.

On their first morning there, Y/N woke up to the smell of coffee and soft music playing. She wandered out to find Aubrey on the deck, wrapped in a flannel blanket with two mugs steaming in her hands. The sun was just rising, casting a soft pink glow over the lake.

Aubrey turned when she heard Y/N approach, her eyes lighting up. “Morning, sleepyhead. Thought you’d like to join me for the sunrise.” She handed Y/N a mug of tea, remembering she didn’t drink coffee.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun climb slowly above the horizon, casting a shimmering path across the water. It was quiet, almost surreal, and Y/N felt the weight of everything slip away, replaced with the calm of being completely at peace in the moment.

After a while, Aubrey shifted, turning toward Y/N. “You know,” she said softly, “this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

Y/N looked at her, her heart swelling at the sincerity in Aubrey’s eyes. “I feel the same way,” she whispered. Then, unable to resist, she leaned in, capturing Aubrey’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

As they pulled away, Aubrey grinned, her eyes shining with something close to wonder. “I don’t care about the noise, Y/N. As long as I have you, I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Y/n beamed at her

"So, what are we reading today?" Aubrey asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence

"I thought maybe 'the catcher in the rye, its a classic"

Aubrey nodded before pulling the younger woman into another soft kiss.

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other and the quiet beauty of the morning, with their book and hot drinks, feeling as if, just for that moment, they were the only two people in the world.

_____

Just a quick note:

i dont really think itll be a series, maybe a bunch of chapters that might actually work as a full story or at least the same like universe, but im not sure if ill continue to write it regularly or not so just an heads up.

Also im in love with Aubrey plaza.

#fic writing #aubrey plaza x reader #aubrey plaza #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agathario

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pullhisteeth · 2 years ago

Text

classified | eddie munson x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello?"

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

"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm twenty-three."

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, thanks," you say.

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y'still there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."

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

Can't argue with that logic.

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

"How do you want to do this?"

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

"What?"

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

"Hah, okay. 1965."

"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"

"Shit, yeah, one sec."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eddie. Munson."

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

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

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

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

What if you're great?

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

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

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

One hour.

He's early.

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

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

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

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

"Eddie?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What d'you mean?"

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

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

"Okay," you sigh.

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

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

"So did you grow up here?"

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

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

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

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

"And you got the job?"

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

"How's that going?"

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

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

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

"Did you grow up here?"

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

"Why'd you move here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, sorry."

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

"We haven't even-"

"Will you?" he presses.

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

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why are you so far away right now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look up at him and nod again.

"I need to hear it, sweets."

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

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

"Eddie?"

His hand stills and he looks at you.

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

"That's okay."

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I just-"

"Yeah, take a second."

"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."

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

"You alright?"

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

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

"What do you mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

"How so?"

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"What does that mean?"

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

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

"What the fuck, dude?"

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

"I didn't-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff, turning away from him.

"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."

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

"Yeah, that. Not this."

"This is part of that."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

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

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

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

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

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

"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.

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

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

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

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

"You're really pretty, you know."

You just look at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, but…"

Just like before, the words stall in your throat.

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

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

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

"Go on."

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

"That's the definition of a fantasy."

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

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

"Can I sit on your lap?"

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

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

"Go for it, baby."

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

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

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

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

"'Course you are, here-"

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

"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"

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

"Oh, for fu-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fucking nicknames.

"I know, I just… Can you just-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

"Shit," he hisses.

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

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

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

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

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

You trace them with gentle fingers.

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good girl."

Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.

"Good?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

"'Course."

"And can I… Can I undo yours?"

"Shit, sure you can."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Christ, yes, okay."

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

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

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

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

"Yes, yeah."

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

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

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

"Yes," you respond too quickly.

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

"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," you agree.

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

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

"No," you bite defensively.

"It's okay."

You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.

"Do you ever…"

Another sigh.

"Do you ever touch yourself?"

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

"Yes."

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

"I, uh…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, yeah, okay."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, ma'am."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You got condoms?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"I've got you."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"

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

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

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

"You close?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, he says, "Shit."

You laugh, scrunching your face.

"Yeah," you agree, "shit."

He squeezes your hand.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Really liked it."

"Okay for your first time?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is it a date?"

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

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

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

"Well, wanna come?"

"I'd love to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can go now, if you want-"

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

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

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

"Yes, please."

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

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

"I'll be here."

"Munson! You made it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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