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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

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Practice On Me — Part Two — Azriel x Reader.

Summary: Azriel comes back for a little more practice. But this time, he wants to learn more than just kissing.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some violence, injury detail, mention of blood. Smut 🌶️ some touching and fingering 😏

“Is that painful?”

“A little. Keep going.”

Rhysand’s hands are gentle when, a week later, you lay face-down on his couch, naked from the waist up. You wince as his fingers skate over jagged, poorly healed scars. You can picture the look on his face without needing to glimpse it; pursed lips and a furrowed brow and barely contained rage.

But he doesn’t let that rage seep into his hands as he smooths a pleasant, cooling salve into what remains of your wings. Which isn’t much.

“Sorry,” he murmurs at your slight jolt. “Almost done.”

There are very few people you will trust with touching your back. It’s too personal for you to visit the camp healer for such treatment, however trained and skilled he may be. But Rhysand—

“I swear to you, Y/N.” His voice is deep, stoic, warm breath fanning your shoulder. “When I’m High Lord, this will be outlawed. Females will not go through this under my rule.”

He promises it every single time he helps you with this. And he means it. Which is why you trust him implicitly with the act.

“I know.” You murmur against a couch cushion. “Thank you.”

“All done.”

As he wipes his hands on a rag, you ease yourself into a sitting position, clutching your shirt to your bare chest. As always, a crackling fire breathes heat into Rhysand’s mother’s home, and the feeling is pleasant, soothing.

“I haven’t seen your mother recently.” You mention, waiting for Rhys to turn around so you can slip your shirt on. It’s not that he hasn’t seen more private parts of your body over the years, nor that you particularly care, but he does you the courtesy, anyway. “Is she well?”

A soft, loving smile curls at his lips. “She is.” And then the smile widens into a full-blown grin. “My father wants her closer to home. She’s with child.”

“Seriously?” You blink, and then you’re throwing yourself at Rhys, sheer happiness and excitement filling you. “Rhys, that’s amazing. You’re going to have a brother or sister.”

“Sister, I hope.” He snorts, squeezing you, and yet also minding your still-bare back. “We need more girls around here.”

“Well, boy or girl, you’ll be the most incredible big brother. I just know it.”

And you absolutely do. Rhys has always been that sort of presence in your life; caring and loving and protective. Stern sometimes. A shoulder to cry on. A giver of warm, much-needed hugs.

You lean into one of those hugs now, not caring nor thinking about the fact that your top half is naked and pressing against him. That is, until the front door opens behind you, sweeping a gust of icy air indoors.

You turn just in time to see Azriel kick the snow from his boots. And then he pauses in the doorway, staring between you and Rhysand.

There’s been no mention of the kiss that night a week ago. Things haven’t been strange nor awkward. Just…normal. As if it never happened.

You’ve combed over it in your mind a little, though. Maybe more than a little.

“I told her the news.” Rhys announces, pulling away from you. A beaming grin still lights up his face.

Azriel’s mouth immediately tilts up, matching his enthusiasm as he smiles at you. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

“Oh, incredibly.” You shrug your shirt on. “I’m bound to get far more stimulating conversation from a newborn babe than I do from you three idiots.”

Rhys swats you and Azriel snorts, and then you’re pushing to your feet and heading towards the small kitchen area. “I’m making tea. Do either of you want some?”

“No, I’m heading out to visit my mother.” Rhys stands. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, though.”

“Give her my love.” You tell him.

Azriel dips his head. “And mine.”

With a chipper goodbye, Rhys is dipping out of the cottage. Shutting the door behind him seals the heat inside once more, and already you have some soothing release from the pain in your upper back.

“Tea?” You offer again over your shoulder.

“Please.” Az approaches you from behind, stopping mere inches away to tie the strings at the back of your tunic. “Cass won’t be joining us. He ran into Sacha on the way here.”

You snort. Cassian’s most recent fling is coming up to a week-long stint, now. It won’t be long before cracks begin to show, and the whole thing is called off, and another female or male takes Sacha’s place. Rinse and repeat.

“I wonder which one of them will break it off. My money’s on Sacha.” You ladle a generous helping of sage tea into two cups and hand one to Az. “How are things with Kaeda?”

You can’t lie — you’ve wondered it a fair few times over the past week. Which is only natural, right? To question if the…help…that you gave Azriel was of any use. But so far, he hasn’t mentioned a damn thing.

He takes a long, pensive sip of his steaming drink. And then shrugs. “I’ve not really had the chance to see her.”

Immediately, you cock an eyebrow. Because Az seems to have had plenty of time for you and Rhys and Cass over the last seven days. Even spared one of those days to fly you to the local market to pick some things up for your father. It hasn’t been a particularly busy week for any of you — slow, even — and you’re almost positive he’s had a spare few minutes to land a kiss on his romantic interest.

Leaning your back against the wall, you shoot him a look. One that says, that’s not going to fly with me, Shadowsinger. “Wanna try that again?” You say. “The truth this time, please.”

He sighs, pressing back against the opposite wall. It must be so annoying for him that you can read him so well. Azriel doesn’t like being read. At all.

“I’m just…not confident enough yet. So, I’ve been avoiding her.” He admits. “I think I need more practice.”

You stare at him. Study him. You’re not sure if he’s implying what…what you think he might be implying. “You’re a good kisser, Az.” You tell him. “Trust me.”

The firm, truthful tone of your voice has his cheeks reddening slightly. He lowers his gaze to the floor. “But I don’t feel like one. And that’s the key to it all, isn’t it? Confidence. I’m just not there yet.”

Fair enough, you think. He’s not wrong. But the direction in which this seems to be going has your heart doing a strange, anticipatory flip in your chest.

“So…” You drag the word out. “Are you asking to practice on me again, or? Because I can totally steal one of the sparring dummies from the training ring and guide you that way—”

“Forget it.” He cuts your teasing off with a roll of his eyes.

“No, wait, I’m sorry.” You bite back a laugh. “I’m taking it seriously, I promise. Tell me what you need.”

He purses his lips, eyeing you for a long moment. You allow him to do so, even if it makes you feel a little naked.

“All I know,” he says, “is that I’m comfortable with you.”

The words are…strangely heavy. Vulnerable. He means them, and you know that, but they’re so weighty that for a moment, you can’t speak.

You suppose you’re so accustomed to your friendship with him — the familiarity and comfort of it — that you don’t think too often about how good it feels to be such a support for somebody. It makes you feel good. Useful. You want to always be able to help him like that.

So, you know you’d offer him anything, do anything he needs.

“If you need to practice on me some more, Az...” Your voice is strangely raspy. “I’m right here.”

He swallows. “But I don’t want it to seem like…like I’m using you.”

“It doesn’t.” It really doesn’t. You keep it to yourself that you need this in your own, little way. “I’d tell you if I felt like that.”

His eyes scan your face, and he seems satisfied with the truth that’s displayed there. He licks his lips and swallows and shifts from foot to foot. And then he says, simply, “Okay, then.”

And you guess this is happening right now, like it happened right then a week ago. So, you place your mug of tea on the counter and push away from the wall. Azriel does the same.

He steps a little closer. Pauses. “Do I need to do anything different to what I did before?”

“No.” You answer, probably a little too quickly. “No, you were great.”

He blushes again, and he seems to be fighting the urge to look away. But he maintains the eye contact like a champ and closes the space between you.

His scent, his warmth, is like a blanket that’s draped over you. You want to wrap yourself inside it, build a fort out of it, hide in it.

Azriel’s hands tremble as he lifts them to your face. He seemed to enjoy that last time — the feel of your skin beneath his. You enjoyed it, too. You tilt your head up just a little.

His thumb makes contact with your cheekbone, brushing a gentle sweep over the area. He leans down—

But then the door flies open, and a snow-covered, pissed off Cassian stomps in.

“Sacha and I are finished.” He announces, not seeming to notice yours and Azriel’s compromising position. “Let’s go to the mead hall.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The mead hall is packed and noisy, exactly how Cassian wants it. He’s in a foul mood, and so a higher volume of people means he has a good choice of who to pick a fight with.

When he gets like this, there’s not really any stopping him.

Luckily, your father isn’t there tonight, so you’re comfortable sitting wedged between Az and Cass without his paranoid, judgemental stare. But you don’t want to be here — the males are too drunk and boisterous, and you seem to be one of very few females present. It makes their leering gazes far more apparent.

“It was a total misunderstanding.” Cassian says from beside you, leaning over you a little so that Az can hear, too. “Yes, I might have called her the wrong name—”

“I would have thrown you out on your ass, too.” You cut him off, rolling your eyes. “At least know the name of who you’re fucking before you dive between their legs.”

“I do know her name. I just got confused—”

He stops mid-sentence and looks up as, from behind, a pair of rough, meaty hands land on your shoulders and squeeze. You immediately recoil at the touch, turning to glimpse the mammoth of an Illyrian male whose name you think is Tanin. Not that you care.

He stinks of ale and sweat as he leans down and smells your hair. You tense. Cassian tenses. Azriel tenses.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Tanin slurs. “When are you going to let me dive between your legs?”

And there it is. Cassian’s excuse for a fight.

He’s out of his seat and on him quicker than you can even register, slamming Tanin down on the adjacent table amidst plates of food and goblets of ale. Blood goes flying as he pummels his fist into the bastard’s face, and then he’s grabbing a goblet of ale and pouring it over Tanin until he’s coughing and spluttering.

“How about you wash your filthy fucking mouth out?” Your friend snarls, diving in to land another punch. “Piece of shit.”

You turn to Azriel in mild alarm. Usually, he would have jumped in by now, pulled Cassian off before he can do too much damage. But the shadowsinger merely watches the affray with something akin to satisfaction on his face. You sigh in exasperation. This will quickly get out of hand.

“Cass.” You stand, reaching for your friend. “Cassian—”

But your voice is barely heard beneath all the yelling and jeering, and then Tanin is fighting back, landing a hit on Cassian so hard that he stumbles backwards — falls into you and knocks you to the floor, right amongst the gathering, boisterous males.

There’re feet everywhere in all directions, catching you in the side and stepping on your hand and knocking you back down whenever you try to get up. Suddenly, the fight is no longer between Cassian and Tanin. Males are punching each other for the sake of it, and more and more of them join in, not even knowing why they’re brawling. It’s the Illyrian pastime.

Just before another foot can swing into you, you’re aware of strong arms lifting you and plucking you straight from the centre of the chaos. Azriel shoves a drunken lout who backs into you, and then he’s dragging you away, his eyes fierce and blazing.

“You’re alright?” He asks over the shouting, his gaze roving your dirtied, creased tunic.

Your hand is throbbing from being stepped on, but the ache is already dulling. You nod. “I’m fine. Where is Cass?”

“Here.” Cassian suddenly appears behind you. His hair has mostly escaped the knot he’d tied it into, and his lip is badly split, blood gushing down his chin. He spits some onto the floor, and his words are thick and almost unintelligible as he cups his mouth and says, “Pieth of thit got me good.”

You scowl, knocking his hand away to grip his chin. “Serves you right. That fight was completely unnecessary.”

“I dithagree.” His eyes glitter, but then he grimaces and pulls away to spit more blood out. “Dammit. I think I need thitches.”

He definitely does. The gash in his lip is deep and pouring. And with the fight still merrily going on around you, it won’t be long before someone tries to drag him back into it. And Cass will happily oblige.

“Go to the healer and get that seen to.” Azriel tells him, not unlike a stern parent. He grips him by the shoulder and steers him out of the door, dragging you with him by the other hand. “And then sober up. I’m taking Y/N home.”

“And apologise to Sacha.” You add.

Cassian grumbles, but the fact that he doesn’t protest is a positive. He can sometimes be so stubborn that it makes you want to split his lip yourself. It would seem he’s had enough drama for one night.

“Fine.” He spits blood onto the dirt path. “Maybe Satha will take pithy on me.”

The fact that neither you nor Az agree is downright hilarious. But nor do you correct Cassian’s drunken, skewed thinking. Nights like these are a common occurrence, and to some degree, you just have to let your friend get on with it.

Cass turns, and you catch him quickly by the hand. “Thank you.” You tell him, because he was defending your honour, after all. “Love you.”

He grins a bloody grin, and then winces as it tugs at the wound. “Loveyouthoo, thweetpea.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ You don’t feel like going home and facing your father tonight, and with Rhysand’s mother’s cottage at your disposal, you don’t have to. It’s not unusual for you to spend nights away from home; usually he doesn’t care enough to even question it. But if he does, you always tell him the same thing — you spent the night with one of your many female friends. No males present. Such a little liar, you are.

But you’re content with that lie as you sink into the couch, your eyes flicking over to Azriel in the kitchen. He stirs a cup of tea silently, pensive as always. He’s asked about your wellbeing at least seven times since you stepped through the door.

You’re fine, you’ve answered each time, and it’s true. With him, you’re always fine. It doesn’t stop him worrying, though.

His footsteps thud against the floor as he approaches you, and he holds out a steaming mug. “Drink this. I put plenty of honey in it.”

Your lips twitch into a fond smile, and you accept it, taking a warm sip. “I was on the floor for a matter of seconds, Az. I have a bruised hand, that’s all.”

He knows this, of course, but trying to get him to stop fussing would be like beating a dead horse, and you really don’t mind being taken care of, anyway. Azriel settles into the space beside you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. You lean into his side.

For a few moments, it’s comfortably silent. And then he snorts softly. “Cassian’s going to have a hard time apologising to Sacha when he can barely form a legible sentence.”

You laugh, tipping your head back against his shoulder. “Maybe she really will take pity on him.”

“If only she’d been there to witness his gallant display of coming to your defence. It might have impressed her.”

“Or put her off him for good.”

“The heartbreak would drive him into someone’s bed, I’m sure.”

The two of you share another laugh, and then silence blankets the small cottage. You’re always content like this, just…existing with Azriel. No need to be a certain way or do a certain thing, like you have to in your own home. With your closest friends, you have the freedom of being yourself unapologetically.

You finish your drink, and then Az is pulling you down with him, his wing draping around you. You’ve fallen asleep like this countless times — with all three of your friends at least once — and it’s one of the few places you feel truly safe.

But as you lie there, basking in Azriel’s warmth, your eyes don’t grow heavy. Rather, they continuously creep over to that spot in the kitchen you stood in with Az earlier, your bodies inches from each other, your lips very nearly meeting but not quite touching thanks to Cassian’s abrupt arrival.

A strange sense of disappointment hits you. Disappointment that you didn’t get to feel that heated kiss a second time.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” you murmur, knowing Azriel is just as awake as you are. “That we got interrupted.”

He turns his face slightly, chin brushing the top of your head. “It’s not your fault that Cassian has terrible timing.”

Your shoulders shake as you give a little laugh. No, no it isn’t. But amongst your disappointment — which is selfish, really, because the kiss was never for your sake —you feel guilt, also. Guilt that you didn’t get to help Az, despite that being what he needed.

You tip your head back enough to look up at him. “I’m still happy to help, you know. The offer is still there.”

For a couple of seconds, he merely stares down at you. His fingers absentmindedly twiddle a strand of your hair. And then he says, a hue of pink colouring his cheeks, “I still need the help.”

And in that moment, he looks so genuinely perturbed by his own inexperience that you can’t bear it. You’ll do anything, say anything, to put him at ease. To help him realise that these things are different for everyone. There’s no time frame he should be keeping to. Twenty years of age or thirty or forty or fifty, he could have come to you with these things worrying his thoughts, and there would never be any judgement. Only understanding. Only what he needs.

So, you slowly sit up, folding your legs beneath you and turning so that you’re facing him. “Would you like to practice now?”

He eyes you and swallows. And then he nods. “I would.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Come here, then.”

Just as you had, he pushes himself up into a sitting position. You can tell he’s tense by the way his wings fall about him; his shoulders squared. You reach for his hand and squeeze it gently.

“We already did this once, Az.” You remind him. “Just do what you did before.”

He nods — more to himself than to you. And then he’s scooting closer. His palm settles at your jaw.

He doesn’t go in for the kiss immediately. You allow him to do whatever he needs to do, whatever feels right. He seems content, for the time being, with dancing his fingers over the skin of your cheek, your jaw, your neck and the shell of your ear. His hand, scarred and callused, climbs and falls, explores each area with rapt attention. He takes note at the way your eyes momentarily flutter closed — an inadvertent reaction to his fingers skating over the pulse point of your throat.

“Is that pleasant?” His voice is deep, husky.

“For me, yes.” You clear your throat. “But I suppose not for everyone. Everybody has sensitive areas. That’s one of mine.”

You’re shamefully disappointed when, after a moment, his hand moves back up. It finds its place at your jaw again, and Az cups your cheek.

“Okay,” he whispers, and leans in.

There’s no chance for you to utter a word as he dips his head and presses his lips to yours. This time, there’s no quick, chaste peck to test the waters. Azriel dives straight in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that robs the breath straight from your lungs.

His mouth paws at yours, and you give yourself to the sensation, submitting fully to the practice. You want Azriel to take what he needs — to get a desired result from this — but as you kiss him back, you can’t help noticing the stiff, tense set of his body.

He’s not relaxed, not at all, and it shows. Something about this is bothering him, holding him back. Nerves, probably. Maybe even second thoughts. Whatever it is, you want him to communicate it, be honest about it.

So as much as you really, really don’t want to, you pull away, your face hovering a mere hair’s-breadth from Azriel’s. He seems to blink, and he licks his lips and stares at you with unguarded concern in his eyes. You know he’s already thinking a million things at once, wondering if he put a foot wrong.

“What is it?” You ask, making a grab for his hand. “You’re…tense. This is no different to what we did last week.”

Your friend stares back at you, conflict a war on his face. And for a split second, you start to think that he is having doubts, that he’s regretting having gone along with this.

And that…that would hurt. You’d understand, of course, because he’s your friend, and this is simply about helping him — but it would definitely hurt.

You don’t want to think too much about why that might be.

Rejection is never pleasant, you suppose.

“Az…” you chew your lower lip. “You can tell me. Whatever it is. If you want to stop this and just…talk…or do nothing at all…then that’s fine, too—”

“Kissing isn’t the only thing I’ve never done.”

The words leave him in such an abrupt gust that you’re stunned into silence.

You stare at him wordlessly.

Of course, it’s not that you haven’t considered that over the past seven days. Up until a week ago, you’d simply assumed that Azriel must have had a whole wealth of experience when it came to kissing people. And you’d turned out to be wrong. It wasn’t unusual to question whether there was more you didn’t know.

But you also knew perfectly well that sex didn’t require kissing. Az could have slept with a whole host of different people, and yet chosen — for whatever reason — to not kiss a single one of them. He could have built up knowledge and experience in plenty of other areas without ever having explored what many would consider to be the first step.

You’d considered that Azriel might not have any sexual experience. And then you’d surmised that he most likely had.

That, it would seem, is not the case.

He looks more uncomfortable than ever, lowering his gaze and rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. You want to tell him that none of that matters, that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but the words simply will not come.

“I’m just…completely inexperienced. In every way.” He admits gravelly. “I’ve come close to doing things, but…I always overthink it. I don’t know how any of this is supposed to…to progress.”

Makes sense. It’s a daunting thing to explore, and even more so when you don’t trust easily. It’s perfectly reasonable that Az has protected himself from that pressure.

“Have you…” You clear your throat, desperate to make sure you’re handling this correctly, decently. “Have you ever done anything at all?”

His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I’m completely well-versed where my own pleasure is concerned, Y/N, trust me. It’s with another person that I have no fucking clue.”

Right. Got it.

Swallowing down a ridiculously huge lump in your throat, you give a slow, pensive nod. “Alright. Well…these things just…evolve naturally. One thing leads to another. The absolute worst thing you can do — with kissing or anything else — is overthink it. Do that, and it’s over before it begins. You just…follow your body’s lead and do what feels natural.”

Good fucking advice, if you do say so yourself. Azriel’s still-unsure expression is the only thing that stops you from giving yourself a well-earned pat on the back.

“Right. Follow my body’s lead.” Az sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. He clears his throat. “Can we continue?”

“If you want to continue, Az, we’ll continue.”

A small, soft smile lifts his lips, and it melts your heart a little. He’s genuinely grateful for your patience and understanding; you wonder if he truly knows that you’d give him, his kind heart, the entire world if you could.

But before you can sink too far into your mushy thoughts, Azriel’s hands are at your face once more, and he’s angling it up towards him.

You wait. Allow him to make the first move. He does.

He kisses you like your lips might disappear before his very eyes if he doesn’t. His mouth slants over yours, and that coiled tension is no longer making his body rigid and unnatural. He’s heeding your advice, relaxing into it, and this time, he doesn’t hold back.

His thumb sweeps your cheek, and his tongue sweeps your lip, and you’re opening up for him, allowing him to slip it inside to meet yours. At once, his taste is overpowering you, mixed in a little with the mulled wine he drank at the mead hall. It’s a song to your senses, and you’re desperate to hear it, feel it, from start to finish.

Perhaps that’s why you’re not really aware of the way your bodies move. Az is shifting on the couch and so are you, and while one of his hands remains at your face, the other moves down and slides gently to the scars on your back. It seems, for a moment, that he might tug you closer, but in one swift movement, he’s laying you down, and he’s tucked between your legs and hovering over you so closely. He cushions the remains of your wings, always concerned about your comfort.

Kissing him like this feels wildly different to kissing him sat up. It feels…intense and yet tender. Fast and yet slow. Like this could go anywhere and everywhere all at once. And part of you wonders if it should go nowhere. Perhaps you should stop. Helping Azriel gain confidence is one thing, but he’s your closest friend, and never before have you had your closest friend more or less lying on top of you, his body moving against you, while his mouth dances over yours.

Bizarre, really.

But you still continue to kiss him back.

Your hand moves up to cup the back of his neck, and you kiss him harder, graze your tongue over his lower lip—

He pulls his face away from you abruptly. Perhaps that was a step too far—

But something in the way he stares down at you, panting heavily, tells you it wasn’t.

“Where do you like to be touched?” He asks you, so gutturally that the words vibrate through you.

And they damn well catch you off guard.

You blink up at him, flustered, not sure you heard right. “I…what?”

Azriel then licks his lips. “I mean…where do you think Kaeda would like to be touched?”

Kaeda.

You’d forgotten about her. The reason that Az is even kissing you in the first place. Because he wants to be good for her.

The thought stings a little. You try to shake it off. “That…that’s something you’ll have to learn from Kaeda herself.”

He stares back at you. Studies your face. And he looks so…so genuinely daunted, that you search for something, anything, to put him at ease.

“But me…” You clear your throat. “I like to be touched in lots of places.”

He’s still staring at you in that strange, intense way. After a beat, he asks, “Will you show me?”

It’s your turn to stare at him then. You’re starting to think that perhaps the world has been turned on its head. You and Azriel, to each other, are familiarity and comfort. You’ve seen each other at your best and at your worst, been there for some damn near humiliating circumstances. This is the male who has bathed the blood of your own cycle from your skin and held your hair back when the cramps have turned your stomach. He’s listened to some of your most embarrassing stories without humour or judgement; just understanding. To him, you are an old, well-worn, well-loved pair of boots.

And he wants you to show him how to touch.

Never, under a million fucking sunrises, could you have predicted this would happen between you.

But you’re not recoiling from the request. You’re just…surprised. You’re not balking from it, nor running out of there screaming.

Nor has Azriel ever balked when you’ve asked for his help, his guidance. Not once.

You angle your body up slightly, just to get a better look at him. And you study him a moment longer. “…Az, are you…”

“I know what I’m asking, Y/N, and I’m sure.” He says without pause. “Show me how a female should be touched.”

Suddenly, you feel like the nervous, inexperienced one. You can totally say no, of course — Azriel would put a stop to it immediately if you did. But you don’t want to.

You want to do this. Want to help.

Your hand cups the back of his neck once more, and then you’re tugging his face down, pulling his mouth onto yours.

The kiss starts out slow and soft. There will be no rushing this for either of you. It’s an exploration, a way to trace the maps of each other’s mouths. You’re both desperate to know more, feel more, before this goes any further.

So, you follow your own advice. You told Azriel to trust in his body, follow its lead, and you now do the same. You want this to progress naturally, like…like it isn’t a transaction. Isn’t something that you agreed on beforehand.

There is no breaking from the kiss this time, even when you’re panting into each other’s mouths. Azriel’s hand is firm and pleasant at your jaw, and your tongues are intertwined, and you’re kissing like you want this specifically with each other. A fact you will not ruminate on,

You nip gently at Azriel’s lip, and this time, he does not pull away. He hums quietly — seemingly unaware of doing so — and applies a little pressure to your mouth. Kisses you harder.

And it’s then — then that you reach for the hand that’s settled at your jaw. You curl your fingers around Azriel’s wrist, and slowly, you drag that hand down.

You think you might be shaking a little, but you don’t give the nerves too much thought. Azriel allows you to guide him. His fingers brush over your neck, content to explore the soft skin there, but you keep that hand moving. The warmth of his palm permeates the fabric of your tunic, and the feeling is pleasant against your chest.

When you finally close his hand over the swell of your breast, you break away just to whisper onto his mouth, “I like being touched here.”

Azriel’s eyes bore into yours, heated and blazing. He swallows.

Clothed you might be, but there’s no undergarment between your shirt and your breast. The weight of Azriel’s hand falls heavy over the swell, and there may as well be no barrier of clothing with how delicious it feels.

His gaze remains on yours as he cups you in his palm. And then his thumb inches in, grazing over your nipple. You suck in a short breath at the contact, your back arching a little.

Azriel pauses. “Is…is this okay?”

“Yes,” you say, a little too quickly. “It’s more than okay, Az.”

A soft smile appears on his lips. You smother it with yours, pulling his face closer once more. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to kiss him again, or what you’re supposed to do amidst any of this, but it feels like the right thing.

This time, there’s no hesitation. Your kiss is hot and needy, and you find yourself bunching the fabric of Azriel’s shirt in your fist as he begins to more confidently explore your breasts.

He squeezes them, palms at them, traces the turgid peaks of your nipples, and you happily arch into it all. But then, without any guidance from you, his hand is leaving your breasts. Travelling down.

And you don’t breathe a word. You figure if he has a question, needs direction, he’ll ask. You kiss him as if you were always made for kissing him, and his fingers are dancing over your stomach, down and down.

“What…” he tugs his lips from yours, his fingers now at the waistband of your breeches, “what about here? Do you like being touched here?”

You stare up at him. And you’re supposed to be guiding him, aren’t you? So, panting, you fold your hand over his and move it down. Away from the waistband. Between your legs.

You fold his hand over the very centre of you. And you wonder if he can feel your heat through your breeches. It feels blazing to you, and torturously so. Like a fire has been lit between your thighs. You’re growing wetter by the second, and your scent must be filling the room.

“Here.” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s deep, smoky. “Right here.”

Azriel watches you closely. Watches your face as he applies pressure to your heat. His thumb presses down.

And you’re not thinking about his intense stare as a soft moan falls from your mouth. Your brow is furrowed, lips parted, and you want more.

“There?” The shadowsinger murmurs, repeating the action. Your moan is louder this time.

“Can you…” Already, you’re panting, but he’s not…not close enough. You grab his hand again, and you’re moving it back to your waistband. To the button on your breeches.

His eyes meet yours. He doesn’t need to be experienced to know what you’re asking from him. Sure, he could probably do this through your clothing, but surely skin-to-skin is better for his experience.

That’s what your selfish mind is telling you, anyway.

“You don’t mind?” Az asks. “I appreciate your help, but…I want you to be comfortable. I don’t want you to feel you have to do anything—”

“Azriel.” You clasp the back of his neck. “I really, really do not mind.”

For him, it will always be about making sure that you’re positive.

Your needy expression must tell him that you are.

You capture his mouth with yours, and this time, the moan comes from him. Kissing seems second-nature to him already. This one is fast and passionate and desperate, and yet he leans into it, gives himself to it entirely.

You don’t know how long you kiss for, but it’s possible that Az needs the time to build up to the moment. To get the nerve to actually cross that line.

You don’t push him or rush him. If he decides that this can’t go any further, you’ll stop immediately. You can see to the ache between your legs yourself.

But then, as his tongue rolls with yours, you feel his fingers at that button. Azriel pops it open. Your breeches part.

You lift your hips a little — a small encouragement. Az follows it. His touch is warm against your skin. His fingers slip past the waistband.

He pulls back to look at you. And he rasps, “Tell me what to do.”

“You can’t do anything wrong,” you pant. “Just…explore.”

He nods. Nods again. Draws in a slow, steeling breath.

And then he explores.

Not once does he look away from you. Not once, as his fingers slip between your folds. You bite down on your lip, not wanting to startle him. This is about him. This is about him.

His fingers dip tentatively through your damp heat. He drags them upwards, drenching himself with your wetness.

“You’re soaked…” He seems surprised by the fact. As though it’s unthinkable that your body would react in such a way to him. He explores more. “Really soaked.”

“Yes, Az.” You breathe. “That’s a good thing, trust me.”

He pauses his movements. And he’s entirely serious as he says, “I always trust you.”

And fuck, the sentiment makes you want to kiss him again, so you do. You yank him closer and slide your mouth onto his, and then his fingers are moving between your folds again.

They inch upwards with ease. And then one of those fingers is brushing over your clit.

You have no control over the way your hips jerk, bucking up into Azriel’s touch, or over the noise that rips from your throat.

Azriel pulls back to study you yet again. And repeats the action with more intent. “There?” He asks, and then adds, “Your scent reminds me of…of pears.”

“I don’t know whether I should say thank you, but yes, gods, there.”

Once more, his finger presses against your clit, and you’re gasping. His head cocks slightly, like he’s genuinely intrigued by your reaction. He watches you closely as he begins to circle the sensitive little nub.

You’re not wholly aware of the fact that you’re tipping your head back — not until Azriel is guiding it forward with his free hand and fastening your eyes on his once again.

“Can you look at me?” He clears his throat. “I just—want you to look at me.”

You swallow, and you nod. And you stay looking at him.

Even as his finger circles your clit again, and you feel the sensation like a lightning bolt through your entire body.

The pleasure is shocking. Your hips buck up into the sensation, and it seems to reward Azriel with confidence. His hand moves into a steady rhythm, his palm seeming to cup you and rub against you as his finger works at your clit.

You will not last like this. You never do. The stimulation is far too much, and you’re writhing beneath him, already feeling that tight, warm coiling in your lower belly — the sign of imminent release.

“Fuck,” you pant, rocking against Azriel’s hand. “Gods, Az, I’m gonna—”

Your words are lost, swallowed by his mouth closing over yours. Azriel kisses you, and he begins to move his finger in quick, flicking movements, and you’re gone, gone, utterly fucking gone, your body a swirling, weightless form as stars burst behind your eyelids.

The climax hits you so thoroughly that you shout into Azriel’s mouth, and you're grabbing at his shirt, simply needing to hold onto something as your hips undulate, desperate for more of the sensations he’s wringing from you and yet so incredibly sensitive that your body is already beginning to tremble.

And the second Azriel notices that you’re shaking, slumping back down against the couch cushions, his fingers cease their movements. He tears his mouth from yours and drinks in your expression.

“Are you okay?” He breathes heavily. “Was that…good?”

Good did not come close to describing what it was. There’s something magic about those fingers that still linger between your folds. You’re sure of it.

“More than good.” You gasp, your head falling back. “I just…need a moment.”

He pauses, before slowly, gently, tugging his hand out of your breeches. You think a whimper leaves you at the loss of contact. It’s an effort not to grab his hand and put it right back where you want it.

But instead, Azriel moves it up to your face. He brushes a strand of hair from your eyes, and his chest is heaving as much as yours as he leans down and brushes his lips over your cheek — an affectionate gesture. One he’s done a thousand times before.

It kind of…rips you from the moment, just a little. Reminds you that this is your closest friend who’s hovering above you. Who’s just made you come so hard, you saw stars. Who’s only doing this to learn.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure — but you’re stopped in your tracks by the door bursting open behind you.

You and Azriel move away from each other just as Cassian waltzes in. His lip is stitched up, but there are fresh marks at his neck; ones he seems incredibly proud of. You quickly fasten the button on your breeches before he can notice.

“Sacha and I worked things out.” He announces with a shit-eating grin. And then he pauses. Frowns. “Why does it smell like pears in here?”

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY ONE

in which you try everything you can to make eddie feel better after his encounter with chrissy - to make him forget, to make him feel cherished, to make him feel worthy.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, a single use of Y/N, smut (p in v), oral (m receiving), voyeurism, edging, good old fashioned ball worship if you squint, maybe some sub!eddie if you squint even harder, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7.3k+

→ a/n: shout out to @hellfire--cult for the balcony idea. i knew i'd get them there at some point, little freaks. and everyone say thank you to @icallhimjoey for the early post 😏

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

21:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

HOUR TWENTY ONE - 12:00 PM

STEVE-O: why do you guys suck so much at providing photographic proof of being alive? seriously

You’ve been staring at Steve’s text ever since the two of you arrived back at the apartment. You’d reply soon enough, but for now, the message was a distraction.

Eddie wasn’t speaking to you.

Not in a brooding sense, but in a way that let you know he was too far gone in his own head right now for you to reach him. When you’d said those words to him, when you’d admitted that you found him worth it, you saw his eyes glaze over slowly. You’d watched in real time as he slipped away from you. It might be that he doesn’t believe you, it might be guilt that continues to gnaw at him for a past that can’t be changed — whatever it is, you hate it.

The easy solution would be to send Steve the photos from the cafe, but you’d already tried that. Your thumb had hovered over that photo of Eddie with a mouthful of croissant, still bright and brilliant before all his waves of self-hatred had gotten ahold of him, and you just couldn’t. It was selfish, it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t share that piece of him with others. Some small, childish, hopeless bit of you needed to cling to the man in that photo and keep him safely inside your chest. It wasn’t a new version to your friends, they’ve always tried to defend Eddie and convince you he wasn’t all bad, but it was new to you. It was all so unexpected and unforeseen, the look behind his golden eyes as he seemingly looked right past the camera and right into you.

No, you couldn’t send that photo. It was for your eyes only. A souvenir you had greedily stolen.

Eddie had excused himself to the bathroom when you two arrived at the apartment, and this time, there was no dirty intentions behind it. You left well enough alone — he needed a moment to be by himself and that was fine. You could entertain yourself until he was ready to come back to you, back down to Earth. Right now, you were currently picking apart an almond croissant as if it were the most interesting thing you’d ever laid eyes on.

Croissant dissection — see? You absolutely could distract yourself in order to give him space. Absolutely no sarcasm there.

You finally sigh when you see a message bubble pop up with three little dots, signifying Steve is typing again. You don’t give him the time to properly finish out his message before you click on your camera icon, snap a shot of the picked apart croissant in front of you, and send a message with the image attached.

YOU: we were eating breakfast, eddie’s been in the bathroom. happy, mom?

STEVE-O: he’s been in the bathroom for an entire hour?

YOU: oh, you know how you men get with toilet time.

Despite the playful tone of your texts, your face is completely flat, chest still heavy as you think about Eddie behind the wooden door. Should you be giving Eddie this amount of space? What if it’s doing more damage than good?

You’re about to stand from the stool you’ve occupied for nearly ten minutes now and go try your hand at knocking, try and remind Eddie that you’re still here, when Steve’s next text comes through.

STEVE-O: stop bullshitting me. what happened?

You swear you taste metallic blood from how hard you bite down on your bottom lip, staring at the mocking message. You can’t even begin to explain to Steve what has transpired, not just this last hour, but the entirety of the time. The parking garage, the joking marriage, Chrissy showing up, Eddie’s painful vulnerability – you can’t find the words to tell him about any of it. The same as you can’t find it in you to send the photo of Eddie in Betty’s.

YOU: nothing happened. do you need any more proof than that?

He only reacts to your message with a thumbs up. You assume that means you’re in the clear, for now.

When you exit your thread of messages with Steve, a new thread that has been started catches your eye. It’s a new number, no contact on it. The only message sent is from you – the photo of you with your coffee, head thrown back and eyes shut with a wide smile boosting your cheeks.

Eddie’s phone number.

You look at the photo of yourself for a while, trying to not cringe at your appearance. To you, you just looked ridiculous. You don’t understand why Eddie wanted this photo preserved so badly. Your smile is too wide, your eyes are mere slits from the way your cheeks were squishing up with joy, most of your makeup you’d started the night with has long since faded due to a multitude of activities. You don’t feel like anything special in this photo.

But Eddie had wanted it. He had deemed this moment in time of you as picture-worthy, had gone so far as to send it to himself so that he’d have this memory even if you deleted it from your phone.

Before you think too hard on it, you tap on that line of numbers and add a proper contact profile to it.

EDDIE. You keep the contact name simple, eager to get it out of the way as you move onto the next step. A contact photo. You don’t even have to ponder on it – in a flash, you’ve selected the picture of him with the croissant.

You’re back on the thread of messages – or, at least, the singular message – and don’t stop yourself as your thumbs begin to fly over your keyboard.

YOU: why were the almond croissants almost sold out?

To be fair, you didn’t even know if Eddie had his phone on him. That green message stares back at you for a few moments before you get your answer.

EDDIE: Excuse me?

He has his phone. You lift your head, looking at the closed door of the bathroom before glancing back down at your phone.

YOU: because everyone went NUTS over them.

You perk your ears and listen for any sign of life from down the hall. Anything. A scoff, a pitiful laugh, him calling you stupid aloud. You’ll take whatever he offers.

It takes a moment, and you truly have to strain to hear it, but you can hear the laugh that would better pass as a sigh.

EDDIE: Is that supposed to be a joke?

YOU: ‘supposed to be’. excuse me, it was definitely a joke. and a very good one, at that.

EDDIE: Debatable.

You find yourself smiling down at the phone. Your neck aches from the way you keep glancing up suddenly at the door, silently pleading for him to come back out. To come out and fight with you, come out and bicker with you, come out and ignore you. Anything, for him to leave the bathroom and do anything but keep that door shut between you two.

He doesn’t, so you send another bad joke.

YOU: what did the customer say when they looked at the croissant?

This time, he plays along.

EDDIE: I don't know, what?

YOU: what a BREADtaking sight.

This time, you hear a more proper scoff come from within the bathroom.

YOU: i heard that. don’t even try to tell me it wasn’t funny.

EDDIE: I’m not laughing because they’re funny. I’m laughing because they’re BAD.

YOU: bet you wouldn’t say that to my face.

Immediately, you discard the phone, facedown on the counter as you look up to the door with unbridled hope. He could always ignore the comment, choose to not respond and continue to sulk away from you. It’s entirely possible – but you pray to every star in the sky that that isn’t what he’s going to do.

Please come back out. Please, even if just to sit in silence with me.

Your prayers are answered.

Slowly, painfully slowly, you hear shuffling on the other side of the door and await for the click of the door unlocking. It never comes, though – the door was never locked in the first place. He opens it, and you realize that the entire time, you could have stormed into the small room with him and demanded that he not hide away.

But you didn’t. You gave him space, gave him patience, and it’s clear he knows this as he comes out.

His eyes are red. As if he’s been crying.

“Hi,” you meekly say, taking in his face past those red-rimmed eyes. The tip of his nose is a fading shade of pink, as if he’s been rubbing it incessantly, and he sniffs for good measure as he turns the bathroom light off and walks to where you are.

“Hi,” his voice is rough around the edges as he greets you back. He won’t look you in the eye once he’s within reach – his gaze remains downcast, and you catch him fiddling with a few of his rings.

You hadn’t considered what you would do if you got this far. In every carefully considered scenario, you’d assumed he’d shut you out. You never expected him to come straight to you, as if seeking out comfort from you, without you having to beg it of him.

His eyes catch the croissants on the counter, torn apart and lazily picked at. He’s about to open his mouth and say something about it, probably questioning what you had done to the poor pastry, but you don’t give him a chance. You’re quick to snatch up one of the pieces you’d been picking apart to snack on for yourself and hold it out to him. An olive branch, an offering – a reason for him to sit and stay for a while with you.

He takes it tentatively, finally looking you in your eye again as he takes a small bite. It’s nothing compared to the bite he had taken when you’d snapped the photo of him, mere crumbs compared to that mouthful.

“Did you just… massacre our croissants?” he questions, squinting his eyes down at the crime scene.

You shift your body jokingly, failing at blocking him from seeing the mess you made, “Absolutely not. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

He almost cracks a grin, “Right. Of course. I must be imagining things.”

“Wanna hear another pun?” you blurt out, suddenly nervous as he continues to stand before you. You hate the incessant need inside of your chest that calls for you to comfort him, to make this all better for him.

“I feel like you’ll tell me one even if I say no,” he raises an eyebrow at you, “So, sure.”

“Why did the croissant go to the doctor?”

He hums, trying to peer over your shoulder again at the croissants you were badly hiding, “Let me guess. Is it because you tore it apart mercilessly?”

“No,” you scoff, reaching behind you to grab another piece to offer to him as well as one of your own, “It was because he was feeling crummy, dumb ass.”

A crack of a smile. It’s miniscule but there. It makes that terrible pun worth it, just to see him not looking quite as defeated is worth all the stars in the sky at this point for you.

You’d certainly been the reason for his unhappiness in the past, and you surely would be again at some point. It all feels so inevitable; just as he believes that he can only bring you misery, you can’t imagine yourself bringing him joy. A belief that strikes something in your chest, something albeit more painful than you’d care to admit, but it’s true. You’ve crossed a line, you’ve changed everything, but the past still remains.

You aren’t perfect. Neither is Eddie.

Heartbreak is imminent, but for this brief moment, you can make him smile. You don’t need to worry about the next time you’ll piss him off or upset him, you just need to focus on making that twitch on his lips more permanent.

“I meant what I said earlier, by the way,” you decide to rip off the bandaid as he moves as if to sit beside you. Quickly, your words make him freeze. A bad sign, but you push through, because he needs to hear these things, “You deserve good things, Eddie. Good people, good things- you just… you deserve those things in your life.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

He’s turning away from you. Turning and heading to the living room, walking away from you.

You don’t let him. In an instant, you get onto your feet and follow him, continuing despite him acting as if he’s finished with the conversation. You’re not.

“You’re a good person, Eddie,” you insist, reaching out for him before he makes it to the couch, “Don’t walk away from me.”

He spins easily in your grip. “Just because you say something, doesn’t make it true, sweetheart.”

He’s back to saying it like a curse. Like it’s a harmful title. As if it’s not a privilege to you and all your metaphors to hear that nickname fall from his lips.

Right before your eyes, his defenses are on the rise. Brick by brick, he’s slowly reforming those walls to separate the two of you. Instead of defeat, instead of acceptance, it just makes you angry.

“Stop doing that,” you say quietly, carefully, firmly.

“Stop doing what?”

“That. Pushing me away. Locking me out,” you tighten your hand on his bicep and watch the way his nostrils flare, “I fucking hate it.”

“Despite what you believe,” he takes a step closer to you, “Not everything I do is meant to piss you off.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and we both know it,” you can feel his muscles tense beneath your touch.

This time, his smile that emerges is cold. But you can still see the rubbage left by his tears — pink water lines and a new puffiness around his eyes. His words and his sudden cool demeanor can’t hurt you when you see it for what it is.

“Clearly we both don’t know it,” he chastised you, “We are very rarely on the same page. This isn’t a damn exception. You don’t have to prove your point, it doesn’t matter.”

He’s a wounded animal, striking out. He’s letting Chrissy’s words get to him.

“You’re worth i-“

“Don’t,” One of his hands shoot out to grip your waist, “Don’t fucking say that. Please. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

He didn’t believe you.

“I meant it,” you whisper, anger shaking out of your grasp inch by inch as you realize that your words can’t break through to him, “I mean it. You’re worth it, to me, to St-“

“This isn’t about Steve,” he cuts you off, “It’s not about Steve, or Nancy, or Robin, or fucking Argyle. No need to play dumb anymore.”

It’s about you.

You both know it. For once, contradictory to what he’d just claimed, you’re both on the same page. And like he said, no need to play dumb.

“You’re worth it to me,” you say it with more confidence this time, “You’re a good person to me.”

“How can you say that?” he laughs out, void of amusement, “How can you say shit like that after everything we’ve been through?”

How can you not?

You only squeeze his bicep tighter, and he returns the action by gripping your hip harsher. “Because I mean it. I believe it. Whether you do or not.”

For a moment, the cracks in his armor expose themselves.

“You shouldn’t,” his voice should waver, “You shouldn’t believe those things, Y/N. You should hate me.”

“But I don’t,” And I never did.

“But you don’t,” he echoes.

You’ve done the opposite of what you had wanted. His smile is gone, that sadness creeping back up. You hate that. You don’t hate him — you hate that world of mourning behind his eyes, that defeat that brings his shoulders down and makes his grip on you falter. So you do the only thing you can think of to distract him. Make him forget.

“Make me hate you.”

His eyes widen briefly, “Excuse me?”

“Make me hate you,” you practically beg of him, “Show me why you’re such a bad person and I’ll let this go. I’ll drop the conversation, we can- Fuck, we can forget this entire morning happened. Make me hate you, Eddie, and I’ll stop reminding you that I don’t.”

His fingers curl back into you, slowly and gently, as his brows furrow. He’s considering what you’ve just said — more than that, you can see him trying to untangle all the hidden meanings behind it.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” his voice is low and calculated.

You shrug, stepping forward, letting your lips get even closer to his, “Not my problem. Just make me.”

The fingers are no longer gentle as he pulls you into him, finally catching onto the emphasis you place on those two little words.

Make me.

When his lips meet yours, they’re rough and brutal, taking greedily what they want from you. The only thing on your mind is making him forget. Make him forget, carry the load for him — they’re both more important than making him smile for now. Both these driving needs burn brighter in your chest because it’s clear that’s what he needs.

You’re willing to give him whatever he needs right now.

“You want me to make you hate me, baby?” he mumbled against your lip, practically drinking in the way you gasp as he starts to pull back, “Is that really what you want?”

It’s what you want. “Yes.”

And maybe you do too, when he leans back in to bite your lip. There will be another time for you to convince him with words that you find him to be worth it. Both hands from wrap around you and rough start to guide you back towards that fucking couch.

“Not the couch,” you suddenly protest, digging your heels into the carpet at the center of his living room, “Anywhere but the couch.”

And oh, the way he’s looking at you in that moment might be your new favorite thing. Your new favorite color is his eyes as they sparkle with a bit of life that had been missing since the coffee shops encounter. Your new favorite sound is the silence that encases the little breath he lets out. Your new favorite movie is watching him move in slow motion as his eyes dart behind you, towards the door to his balcony, before his lips finally curl up with a hint of the genuine warmth that had been hidden behind his walls.

“Anywhere?” he teases, beginning to walk you backwards.

You nod, grinning right back at him.

“I think I have an idea.”

If you had known twenty one hours ago that Eddie Munson, your sworn enemy, would have you out on his public balcony and on your knees for him in only a matter of time, past you would have….

Well, you don’t really care what past you would have done or thought anymore. You’re making him forget, yes, all while making yourself forget. You don’t care what you, twenty one hours ago, would or wouldn’t do as you let the past slip through your fingers so eagerly. All you can focus on is the dig of concrete against your knees, the way Eddie’s hands grip the railing as he leans against it, and the way the early afternoon sun forms a halo around him as you look up through fluttering lashes.

You just want to make him feel good. Every action is intentional, doing everything in your power to erase whatever storming thoughts had been haunting him so cruelly since Chrissy had so carelessly said what she had. You want to make him feel worthy. You want to make him feel loved.

Loved. You certainly didn’t love him — you couldn’t possibly, could you? He wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t let yourself. But for now, you could play pretend; you could worship his body, drag his shirt out of the way and place playful kisses across his hips, and you could pretend that only this moment exists.

“You wanna know what makes me such a bad person?” he sighs out as you let your teeth graze his skin, shoulders rolling to shake off that shiver you elicit from him, “This. The fact that this is all I can fucking think about.”

“Hm,” you can only hum in response, nails taking over the denim of the jeans he currently wore. You walk your fingers up his thighs, moving closer and closer to his zipper. Your mouth is nearly watering at the prospect of worshiping him.

And the fact that any neighbor could walk out at any given moment and catch the two of you. You should probably insist on it being fast, on him being quiet, but the thought sends a thrill through the pit of your stomach. Your thighs clench and your cunt aches at the thought of being caught.

You want to do more than make him bite back mere moans of your name. You want to make him scream.

Suddenly, a hand tangles into the roots of your hair, pulling back and making you focus on him again.

“Eyes on me,” he instructs. Once you focus on him and only him, he continues, loosening his grip and letting those fingertips rub at your scalp soothingly, “You know why you should hate me? For all the nights I pictured this.”

“Yeah?” you smile innocently, playing along. He can talk all he wants, you know once you get your mouth on him, he’ll be lucky to remember his own name. “How many nights, hm? Tell me all about them, pretty boy.”

You catch the wobble in his knees, the way his breathing picks up, the brilliant shade of ivory his knuckles stretch to. You lean back on your haunches, and the hand in your hair slips as he glowers down at you.

“What are you-”

“Take off your shirt,” you calmly command.

“Excuse me?”

“Your shirt. I want it off.”

His hand that was once tangled against your scalp now comes down to your face, movement slow but not hesitant as he pinches your chin. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, and you let out, even making a show of letting your tongue peek out to tap at it. “And who said you were calling the shots?”

“I did,” you put it simply, completely removing your hands from him now, “Take off the shirt, or I’ll leave you out here with blue balls.”

You close your lips around the end of his thumb and his knuckles dig in deeper to the skin below your chin as you suck subtly. He chuckles, but you can hear just how breathless he goes at the small action, even as he keeps up the act with a hard press of his thumb on your lower lip. Your mouth hangs open for him, waiting patiently for his next move.

A game of chess, an exchange of power, a fight for dominance. All the lines of who is and isn’t in control are blurred.

“Have you always been so mean, baby?” he taunts, trailing what spit you’d left behind on his thumb along your lip.

His movement stops when your lips spread into a provocative smile, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

The retort had potential to backfire. You wait for smoke and glory, for him to pull away from you further. He’d slam down a brick right in front of your face, lay the mortar to leave you high and dry. He’d push you away, and you’d have to retreat, tail tucked between your legs in the shame of trying when it came to him.

No smoke, no glory. He secedes, but makes no move to add to his walls, only removing his hand from your face and taking off the shirt. Just as you had told him to.

“Better?” he asks as he makes a show of tossing the shirt to the other side of the balcony. It could have even flown over the railing, for all you paid attention to the scrap of clothing. Maybe some innocent bystander is on the streets below, confused to all Hell as to why it’s raining obscure band t-shirts.

You’re just a bit too distracted to consider that right now.

With Eddie’s torso revealed, all words seem to evade you. You catch the sweat beginning to gather across his sternum, watching the way he’s flushing beneath your gaze, reveling in the pink chest exposed to you as the blush crawls wider. Instantly, your original purpose is forgotten, the primal urge to pepper kisses and bites alike across his skin almost lifting you up off your sore knees. You want to leave bruises – you want to make him scream, you want to mark him up, you want to make him feel worthy.

You stay on your knees, but compromise with all your wants as you lift up and stretch a bit. Your lips start their trail a bit lower than you (or Eddie) would have liked, taking their time to get familiar with the spanse of his rib cage first. You don’t nip with teeth, not yet. Just chaste kisses, lining each bone you can hardly feel residing beneath the skin, feeling his lungs expanding against your affection. Your tongue swipes alongside one of his side tattoos, a large and detailed dragon you hadn’t paid much mind to before. Every time you’d seen him shirtless, you’d been a bit distracted.

Not now. Now, you’re focused, determined to learn every curve and dip there is to explore on Eddie. You want to know him better than the back of your hands, memorize him more intricately than your own palms. After all, in order to worship a deity, you must know them.

You return back to the center line of his abdomen, kisses chasing after one another, even taking the time to suck his skin between your teeth but never bite down. You pause once your lips rest right beneath his navel, the tip of your nose brushing that rough patch of hair that leads down to your end destination. Your hands reach for his belt, toying with the buckle.

Through heavy lashes, you look up at him, staring down at you in awe, “You know, you’re not doing a very good job at making me hate you, pretty boy. Think I might just have to worship you instead.”

A deity of your own making. A deity for your own taking.

With skill, your hands undo the buckle effortlessly. You unbutton and unzip his jeans as if you’ve done this part a million times, as if you’d spent every single Sunday of the last year right here and doing exactly this. On your knees, worshiping him. This balcony, for all its exposure, certainly knows how to serve as a holy place.

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re impatient. You still haven’t left him speechless, meaning you still hadn’t made your point, clearly.

His jeans hang loosely as they creep down his thighs, abandoned for a moment as you occupy your mouth against his hips. The hips you once thought would look so pretty properly decorated. You decide you were wrong – they don’t need ink burying into the skin, they need your teeth digging in.

You cover that skin with mirroring images of bursts of purple and pink, flowering bruises that you take your time to mark onto him. With each suck and bite, Eddie rolls his hips into you, head leaned back and throat straining with each moan he swallows down.

With the last hickey finished, you finally lean back, proud of your masterpiece as Eddie whimpers above you. Blooms in the shape of your lips mingle with faint and quickly fading teeth marks.

“Fuck,” he gasps out when your fingertip stops trailing over your markings and comes down to apply the softest pressure over the straining bulge in his boxers.

“What was it that you said earlier?” your finger traces over where you know a vein is – you know it because you’ve felt it, been driven insane by it – before circling around the wet patch now forming. He’s desperate, hips bucking again and a moan finally escaping. You think he’s bitten his lips hard enough in an attempt at self-restraint that they might be bleeding, “You said I’m not calling the shots, right?”

“You’re not,” he pathetically grits out, hands forming tighter fists on metal railing, as if the moment he lets go of it they’ll find their way home to you.

You lean forward, breath washing over his crotch before you place a feathery kiss to his clothed tip, “I’m not?”

You are. You both know you are. A constant battle of control, an ever-growing fight for dominance.

He lets out something crossed between a sigh of relief and a whine of protest when you remove your lips and hand from him completely, only to let out a sharp yelp when your finger curls into the waistband of his boxers and pulls back the elastic, letting it snap back into place sharply.

“Say I am,” you barter, “Say I’m in control right now, and I’ll put my money where my mouth is.”

You don’t expect him to break so easily. You’ve underestimated just how tightly you’ve caught him beneath your thumb.

“You’re in control,” he gasps out, head hanging low to meet your gaze fully, “You’re in complete and utter fucking control of me. You’re calling all the shots, baby. You always are.”

He didn’t have to sweeten it up with baby, but it spurs you on.

You shove his boxers down, watching his cock spring out for the taking. And you do as you promised; you put your money where your mouth is.

You start softly, taking your time as you gingerly suck on his pretty pink tip as you had his thumb. Hardly hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue circle his slit to gather up the precum. You let the taste of him completely cover your tongue, even hum in satisfaction when he lets out a loud groan. It motivates you, feeds your fervor as you let his tip fall from your mouth and trail the tip of your tongue down the underside of his cock. That vein you’d traced with your fingertip, yours for the taking, covered in a faint line of saliva as you let it rest on your forehead and graze your lips against his ballsack.

He can’t hide his shiver, even as his fist flies to his mouth to bite down on.

“Have I ever told you how cute you are?” you say low enough for just him. You can hear the sounds of traffic, a dog barking, birds singing — all reminders of the outside world and the looming threat of being caught. Warmth floods you again at the reminder of that threat, thighs clenching closer together in a desperate search of friction, “Just falling apart for me, acting so tough for so long until I got you alone.”

He whimpers your name. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You wrap your lips around the sensitive skin, sucking and pecking away on one side before moving to the next. His reaction throttles your movements. When his hand loses the fight of resistance, coming down to the back of your head, you laugh breathlessly against the now wet skin.

“Let me make you feel just how worthy you are to me,” you praise, pulling back finally, letting your nose brush against his sack as you do so. The hand that was once merely resting now tangles up in your hair — a warning.

You let the velvet skin of his cock drag down your cheek as each movement is deliberate, taking your time and in no rush. You want to savor him like this. Imprint him to memory.

You want to make him forget while making yourself remember.

You want to remember the way his hand flexes at the base of your skull when you finally kiss his tip once more, remember the way his abdomen tenses as you sink him further into your mouth. You want to remember every little sound that escapes him as he hits the back of your throat, as you constrict around him, as you moan around his base and the vibrations have him slipping out of control.

Your nails dig into his thighs to balance yourself, eyes watering as you look up at him. One subtle nod. He doesn’t need more than that.

Your jaw goes slack, trying to steady your breathing through your nose as you let him take control. His hips thrust at their own pace, gentle enough that he only grazes the back of your throat rather than bruise it. The issue is you want him to bruise it. You want him to mark you from the inside out. Until there’s no part of you left untouched by him.

You gag again, and he slows. Your fingers that grip his thighs immediately tap against him, and he mistakes it as a signal to pull back completely before you chase after him, pressing him onto your tongue until your lips are snug around his cock a mere inch from the base. Your nose is grazing those pubes in the dead center of all your love marks. Shapes of semi-permanent scars that whisper, you’re worth it to me. I want this. I want you.

The last thing on his mind was Chrissy Cunningham and her words alluding to him not being worth it.

You make sure of it when you finally release him from your mouth and begin to pump with an eager fist, ducking down and returning to pay attention to his balls once more. You nuzzle the soft skin, let the tips of your canines graze them before you suck them onto your tongue as you’d done his cock. He’s no longer containing his moans – they flow freely along with curse words, chants of your name, sounds you’d love to capture and play on repeat until the end of your days.

“Oh my God,” he groans out particularly loudly, “Fuck, baby. J-Just like that, please- Fuck. You’re doing so good for me. Such a good girl, just for me.”

Your hand is still wrapped around him, slowly coming up to squeeze hard around the tip as you whisper up to him, “Only for you.”

“Yeah? Only for me?”

You don’t know how to explain to him that it’s true: you’re only ever that mean for him, you’re only ever this eager for him, you’re only ever this desperate for him.

You don’t answer him with words. There are none. Instead, you take him back in your mouth, and you solely focus on bringing your deity to climax. The man you were worshiping, the man who was worth the ache in your knees that surely told you they would be left bruised, if not skinned.

“Is it just like you imagined?” you question as you break your lips off him. He’s close, leaking precum excessively and entire body taut, “Was it worth it? To picture this, to want this so badly?”

He almost can’t answer you, but somehow manages between pants, “It was. It is. You’re- fuck, you’re worth it.”

“Good,” you drop your hand from him, leaving him right on the edge as you rest both sticky palms on the tops of your thighs. You look up at him with relinquished control – the perfect image of submission, for him. “Then you get it. When I say you’re worth it, you get it.”

He’s clearly still reeling from you bringing him so close only to leave him hanging, teetering on a cliff as he stares you down.

His chest heaves as he questions, “What was it you wanted me to do earlier?” A deceiving hand comes down, tucking any baby hairs behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. One moment, his thumb is stroking a soft arch beneath your eye, the next that hand is pulling you up, “Make you?”

You know that if you hadn’t been so eager to follow his touch, you’d still be on your knees. Even as you watch him take the reins, you know you will always call the shots – just like he had said.

“You really think you can make me hate you?” you whisper once you’re standing tall in front of him, leaning your cheek into his touch.

“I shouldn’t have to make you hate me,” he corrects, the thumb back to gentle strokes, loosening the touch to be more tender once again, “You should already hate me.”

“Why?”

He flips positions immediately, your lower back now curving into the railing as he presses himself up against you, his achingly hard cock between your bodies, “Because of this. Because I always want you on your knees for me. Because of all the fucking filth I want to do to you. I want to bend you over, right here, and take you where anyone could see. I want to have you screaming my name loud enough that every single person on the streets of this city hears you.”

With each word, a knot ties inside of you, desperate for release.

“Because you’re fucking right,” he leans down, lips going straight for your neck, not looking you in the eyes, “All it fucking took was for you to get me alone for one night, and now? I’ll never get enough of you, I’ll never get clean of you,” he takes a deep breath, and suddenly, his lips latch onto you, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting hard. You can’t stop your fingers from latching onto his curls, tugging hard, body rolling into his. It hurts, it stings, you need more, “Everything changes. And that includes me.”

His face finally leaves the crook of your neck, pulling back to look you in your eyes. Doe brown eyes search yours, wide and honest and pleading. You let everything else melt away; for a moment, it’s only him and only you. The tension, the last twenty one hours, the last year — you let it disintegrate and focus on him.

It never mattered if everything changed.

It only matters that he’s changed, irreversibly, and so are you.

“How can I hate you for those things?” you press into him again, this time less desperate and more consciously, “Do it.”

“Do what?”

“All of it,” you trail a hand up his chest, “Every single thing you just said. Fucking- Do them. Bend me over, make me scream, change me,” your voice breaks, shaking with anticipation and need.

It’s all the encouragement he needs.

Every single thing he wanted, he craved, he does. A flurry of him properly discarding his jeans as he unbuttons yours to shove them down, spinning you and shoving you hard enough into the railing that it digs into your abdomen and leaves you breathless. You’re hardly aware of the way you step out of your pants and kick them to the side, looking out to the city skyline but not seeing it. It’s all a blur as you focus on the way your shirt rides up and he grabs your hips, bruising you finally as you have desperately needed.

You wanted to be left haunted by the end of these last few hours. You wanted to see him every time you looked in the mirror for the next week, to remember the map of where his body molded to yours. You want to dream of the way he stretches you as your underwear is ripped to the side. You want to be followed by the sounds of his skin slapping against yours as he snaps forward with intention.

Changing you. He has no idea that he’s already ripped you open from the inside out, has already rewired your entire chest and set flames to your brain.

Everything changes, and sometimes, everything is only two people. Just you. Just him. New versions that would have never met had it not been for this stupid fucking bet.

“Eddie,” you nearly sob, nearly choke on, his name burning in your throat like kindling embers.

His hand walks up your spine, trailing wildfire even with a layer of cotton between you two. Burning and singing away all you’d assumed for far too long. When he reaches the nape of your neck, he takes care in wrapping your hair around his wrist, tugging back hard and forcing you to stand from where the railing had been bending you in two.

“Say it again,” his lips brush you ear with every gasping breathing, timing with the way his cock is sliding in and out of your warmth, “Say it louder.”

“Fu-“ you start to moan, cut off by him pulling even harder on your hair, making his point so that you cry out, “Eddie!”

He thrusts harder. You swear you could feel him in your throat.

“Scream for me, baby,” an arm wraps around your torso, firm and solid for you to cling to rather than the warming metal of the railing, “Tell them who’s making you feel so good. Let them know. Be a good girl.”

Even when he claims to have control, it’s your actions, your reactions, that call the shots.

It’s the echo of your voice that spurs him on as you chant his name over and over, as if he were your only God. Primal worship dripping from every syllable. It’s the tremble in your thighs that has him pressing deeper into you, chest glued to your back as if he could never get you close enough. It’s the clench of your cunt around him, a vice that sucks him in as you drag him closer to the high he’s been dizzily chasing since you first dropped to your knees in front of him.

It’s you. You’ve changed him, as he’s changed you.

He pulls your hair until you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, back arching and feet still spread as he only maintains his quick and brutal pace, leaning down to whisper in your ear one last time.

“You know the real reason why you should hate me?” he grits out between to particularly forceful thrusts, “It’s not just because I don’t deserve you. It’s because I’ve wanted you for so long,” you’re right on the edge, fluttering around his cock as his movements stutter. A tell tale sign. “I- fuck, fuck. It’s- God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”

You shatter around him in waves. Your entire body tenses as the words dig claws into you, piercing through vines and blooms. His body stills, warmth flooding you deep within as you continue to see stars. You can’t make a single sound, fingerprints surely left behind on where you clasp onto his forearm.

I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.

When the waves recede, when the high has passed its peak, you both freeze. Your body tensed in his hold, struggling to process what he’d just said.

Loved you.

He’s frozen in place, scrambling to figure out how to undo the damage just done.

I’ve loved you for so long.

He slips out of you, his spent dripping down your thighs. His forearm drops from you. Your hands don’t even try to stop him.

I’ll never be fucking worthy.

You should be worried of neighbors coming out to see the two of you on his balcony. If not worried, you should be embarrassed, or aching at the thought once again. Anything. You should feel something.

You turn slowly to him, entirely numb as you catch his rueful expression.

Loved you. He loved you.

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #if it's bad do not tell me #stranger things

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redbullgirly · 8 months

Text

The Dancer [FA14 smau]

Fernando Alonoso x dancer!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Few months after, everybody laughs when they remember the rumors about Fernando Alonso and Taylor Swift dating. Would they laugh though if they new it maybe wasn't so far from truth as it may seem? Well, one thing's for sure - Y/N and Fernando will laugh very much while soft launching their relationship... and confusing everyone with swiftie content thanks to her job.

Warnings: Maybe wrong dates and timeline of The Eras Tour, but whatever XD.

messages between Y/N and Fernando

fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram

liked by alex_albon, zhouguanyu24, pierregasly and 562,109 others

fernandoalo_oficial I was taken by the view like we were in Paris... romance is not dead.

view all 4001 comments

user1 i dont think my brain can comprehend so many things all at once😨

user2 right? I'M IN SHOCK

user3 fr fernando wants to give us a heart attack😭

lilymhe I see what you did here...

alex_albon I indeed see what he did here too...😏

user4 guys tell us what he did pls I'm begging youuuu

user5 Alonso soft launching was not on my 2024 bingo card

user6 him soft launching with TAYLOR SWIFT wasn't on MY bingo card 😭

user7 How he's suddenly so hot in the first pic? Like damn sir okay🫢

user8 girlfriend effect is real y'all

georgerussell63 Mate you can't do that to me, I just woke up 😧

user8 lmfao princess georgie is as confused as we are xd

fernandoalo_oficial sorry mate, don't get wrinkles🤞

gerogerussell63 What even is that choice of emoji?

fernandoalo_oficial well, someone is original with an emoji and someone is original with a pose... choice is yours 😃

georgerussell63 Stop it's been almost a year 😭

user9 not them bullying each other💀

user10 Yeah the duo we didn't know we needed

user11 I saw the first picture and almost spat out my drink in shock of such a hot photo of Nando. Then I swiped and literally choked on it because the last think I'd ever expect from his photo dump is a soft lunch of some baddie girl🫣

user12 I am delusional for thinking Taylonso could still have a chance, aren't I?

user13 well i mean you basically answered it yourself so... yeah XD

user14 OMG WHAAAAAAT😱

user15 oh no Fernando is not single anymore💔

user16 I think I accidentally teleported into some alternative universe... what is thiiiis?

user17 REAL

user18 fuck me this man seriously used lyrics from paris by ts💀

user19 Idk why but I kinda like this new side of Fernando😻

twitter

yourusername posted on instagram

liked by taylorswift, fernandoalo_oficial, carmenmmundt and 5,234 others

tagged: taylorswift and 9 others

yourusername crazy performance, even crazier night out and the most crazy training the day after... I call that the life of a dancer😻🎉 also my head and heart did go vroom vroom after the second pic

view all 218 comments

taylorswift I call that the eras tour life!💗

yourusername yes ma'am!

user1 damn she got our queen Taylor replying to her posts... how does it feel to live my dream?!😭

yourusername amazing! 🥰

user2 such a shame my mum didn't force me to try dancing when I was little... I could have been at podium next to Taylor Swift right now 😃

liked by the author

user3 You are such a good dancer, the shows wouldn't be the same without you Y/N!

yourusername omg thank u sm I really appreciate that!!🥹

user4 sooo... are we gonna just ignore Fernando in the likes or what???

user5 THAT'S WHAT I CAME HERE TO SAY

user6 fr I need some crazy detective from twitter to figure this out😫

carmenmmundt Hey, could you give me and lilymhe vip tickets...?

yourusername I mean... everything can be done 😏 I'll just need to ask mother Taylor bc I just used my plus one at the last concert🫡

lilymhe OH MY GOD WE LOVE YOU Y/N

yourusername I love you girls as well, we have to finally meet sometimes!!!

carmenmmundt Yeah, I think we'll have chance at the end of February at the latest😉

user7 WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE

user8 Omg are they hinting Y/N at the Bahrain GP?? F1 season starts at the end of February right?!

goergerussell63 Well hello there, nice to meet you Y/N... given the fact my dear girlfriend doesn't care about me, could you give me and alex_albon vip tickets as well?😊

alex_albon Yeah Y/N we are very big fans😊

yourusername everything for the guys that go vroom vroom🫡

alex_albon Like your heart

yourusername exactly!

user9 I AM FREAKING OUT

user9 MY BRAIN HURTS FROM HOW MUCH IS GOING ON

user9 WAIT FUCK I THINK I GOT IT

user9 AAAHHH I FEEL LIKE SHERLOCK MF HOLMES

twitter & messages between Y/N and Fernando

yourusername posted on instagram

liked by selenagomez, fernandoalo_oficial, francisca.cgomes, astonmartinf1 and 8,234 others

yourusername preparing for the next season🤞

view all 1,029 comments

user1 y/n is literally living my dream life rn

georgerussell63 Oh no... he infected you with that emoji, didn't he?

yourusername we'll never know... maybe I infected HIM with it

gourgerussell63 I think higher of you and your taste in emojis

yourusername aww thanks princess georgie how sweet🥰

georgerussell63 I take it back

user2 HELLO?! what is happening💀

dancer1 excuse me little miss y/n... is that a man i'm seeing?🤨

yourusername well... maybe

dancer2 Be fr she's trying to soft launch him for like a month now😭

dancer1 okay i'm calling you rn STAY WHERE YOU ARE

user3 Guys why's nobody talking about the paddock pass in the 5th picture!!!!

user4 omg that's a PADDOCK PASS?😱

user5 yeah it is I noticed it thanks to this comment

user6 Wait... does that mean her and Fernando have been together longer? Because she already went to a race before the winter break??

user5 idk girl we don't even know for sure she's really dating him😓

user6 idgaf about who's dating her bc even without bf y/n's sooo hot like damn... mommy🥵

user7 I'm so confused... is this Alonso's girl or not?

user8 trust me user7 - we'd all like to know that😭

user9 😍

yourusername and fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram stories

yourusername story has been seen by taylorswift, lance_stroll and 13,634 others

fernandoalo_oficial story has been seen by charles_leclerc, astonmartinf1 and 308,003 others

user1 replied to yourusername story: is that an f1 driver there y/n

dancer1 replied to yourusername story: Hope he'll not disappoint me in person when you talked about him sm 😒

yourusername ohhh trust me you'll love him just as I do🥰

dancer1 omg bleeeeh I hope not 🫣

user2 replied to yourusername story: your friends are so pretty😩

taylorswift replied to yourusername story: When you'll take him to get my approval??

yourusername soon taylor, soon... I'm just afraid it'll break the internet lol

taylorswift I think we're used to that already with Travis at this point😂

yourusername true😭

fernandoalo_official replied to yourusername story: 🔥

yourusername it's going to be okay, they'll love you 🫶

fernandoalo_oficial how did you know I was nervous amor?

yourusername I saw you literally shaking when you left to the bathroom love...😹

yourusername oh they're back come quickly!!💞

fernandoalo_oficial onmw

user3 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: IS THIS THE CONFIRMATION WE NEEDED?!

user4 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I see what you're doing here old man 👀

user5 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: soft launch slowly turning into a hard launch and I'm here for it!!!!

dancer1 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I guess you aren't that bad in person...

fernandoalo_oficial 😁

user6 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: screaming crying throwing up

taylorswift replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: You better treat my best dancer right Alonso!🤍

fernandoalo_oficial of course ma'am! 🫡

user7 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: So cute!!😍

messages between Y/N and Fernando

fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, f1, yourusername and 601,239 others

tagged: yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial All these people think love's for show but I would die for you in secret... #swiftie

view all 6,022 comments

yourusername I'd just like to make it clear to everybody that it's me who made him be swiftie... you're welcome💋

liked by the author

user1 OMG THE LYRICS FROM PEACE BY TAYLOR

carmenmmundt Y/N is so pretty!😍

yourusername ohh carmen ilysm you're even prettier🥹

user2 No way Fernando just really har launched his gf😭

f1 We smell a new wag!

user4 LOL you're kinda late for that admin xd

user5 Congrats and wish you well world champ!💪

user6 can we talk about how gorgeous she is???

lilymhe double date when honey?

yourusername anytime babeee!!!

fernandoalo_oficial why do I have a feeling me and alex_albon will be third-wheeling on you two?🤨

alex_albon you'll eventually get used to third-wheeling your own girlfriend and her friends, trust me fernando...🤠

user7 This girl is like a goddess, I can't even blame him ❤️🔥

user8 mommy & daddy

georgerussell63 Finally! Congratulation on the hard launch mate👍

fernandoalo_oficial and look who's original with emojis now...😂

user9 from now on this is my fav couple

user10 mine to

user11 SHUT UP THE DELULU GIRLIES ON TWITTER WERE RIGHT

lance_stroll 💚💚

user12 nah I don't know what he see in her🙄

user13 Go away we don't want the jealous haters here 🥱

kellypiquet Welcome to the F1 family yourusername!🤍

yourusername thx!💞

user14 i call this couple goals

user15 I'M SO READY FOR BOYFRIEND MATERIAL ALONSO

user16 I can already feel he'll be so hot in his new era 😩

user17 lmao nando in his swiftie and stlutty era as someone on twitter said😹

yourusername swiftie and slutty era? i like the sound of it😏

user16 not y/n reading all the comments sipping over her bf 💀

liked by yourusername

THE END

Author's Note: Hello everyone, hope you liked it! I'm not sure you should get used to me posting so often, but let's say that after Lance's social media au and the great feedback I had so much motivation... plus I'm sick, so I actually have the time to write and create XD. Anyway, I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblog and every other way of showing support! Have a great day and let me know how you liked Nando and swiftie dancer together!

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izzabela · 11 days

Note

So I don't know if you seen this meme or trend where the girlfriend/fiance/wife would text their significant other about how much they miss him and get very flirty over the text messages and when the boyfriend/fiance/husband finally gets home, the girlfriend/wife decided they are too tired or were just teasing around but the boyfriend/husband are already worked up and excited to not let it pass.... I was wondering if you could write separate scenarios like that for Kuai Liang and Tomas? (I felt like Bihan wouldn't really care that much of it anyway 😁).

Bark, No Bite - Lin Kuei Trio x fem!wife!reader (headcanons)

in which you bark up the wrong tree, no matter which brother is yours

a/n: thank you 🐼, but i think you might be mistaken about bi han 😏 - also some of this is inspired by real life events (my bf)

ship[s]: tomas vrbada , kuai liang , bi han x fem!wife!reader (headcanons)

warning(s): modern au, fuck it, MDNI (various sexual positions, poor reader is used happily, puppy play??? light bdsm fasho)

Tomas Vrbada

- something something something, Tomas comes home quickly after you sent him a risqué picture of yourself in tight clothes and a suggestive pose

- something something something, Tomas finds you there, sitting in front of the TV, unaware of the beast that's lying in wait (and in his pants)

- he picks you up, and you're a giggle fit at first. when he makes way to the bedroom, you realize your joke from earlier has consequences

- of course: missionary on the bed, your back against the headboard, good ol' doggy- lil' ol' you is blissed and fucked out perfectly as Tomas is abusing your attention-seeking cunt :(

- he also makes you take his entire length. all. of. it. condescendingly, with mocking tone, "aw, darling can't fit it, can't she?" (he makes you choke on it 'til you cry)

- don't worry, he'll clean you up well and give you loving massages. as he's rolling your muscles in and out, he'll make sure you won't do this again ("what did we learn today?")

- you're going to do it again, and Tomas knows it (he's honestly waiting for it to happen again)

Kuai Liang

- something something something Kuai Liang pulls all stops and makes sure to remind you what you did

- something something something, you can feel the air become ten times heavier as Kuai's steps echo on the floor ("do you think you're getting away with what you did?")

- sigh, poor reader, edged to infinity and beyond as Kuai Liang ties and bounds your arms back with his neck tie (he is so the type to wear a neck tie). his fingers press on your gspot perfectly, and you're whining for releasd

- you're bucking and humping your hips shamelessly, trying for any feeling of friction as you chase the high Kuai Liang's dangling from a string. pathetic whimpers, sad "please please please" echoing from your mouth- seriously, you should have seen this coming

- it isn't until you start crying, weeping "sorry sorry sorry" before Kuai Liang unbuckles his belt, slips a condom on, and fucks you. you cum immediately, but you don't care as he keeps pistoning in and out of you

- perfectly fucked out, Kuai Liang takes his precious time cleaning you up, cleaning the bed up, and grabbing the necessary healing items for your post-bedroom activities (he prides himself on taking care of you)

- you won't do it again (immediately)

Bi Han

- something something something Bi Han leaves mid-meeting, a meeting with important clients and shareholders, to go home and discipline you

- something something something Bi Han slamming the door and beelining for your ass (you're a victim, and the lovely sandwich you were eating lay cold as he swoops you up and out of your chair)

- it's honestly over for you and your cunt on this one. Bi Han ties you up with his necktie, then he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your neck. it's not too tight, but it's enough where it acts as a makeshift leash

- dragging you by your "leash" all the way to the arm chair in the corner of the room, he sits down and takes his pants off to reveal his throbbing head. without warning from him, and no protest from you, you suck his fat length as Bi Han smiles evilly.

- the degradation, the name-calling, the fact he has zero care for you in this moment in time (mainly because you didn't care about him when you sent that raunchy pic) put your pussy into overdrive. your slick, dripping, wet, all over your legs. Bi Han uses his foot to spread your legs wider too ("my beautiful angel.... nothing but a little play thing in my hands)

- and boy are you a play thing. you're brought up from your knees, roughly sinking onto his cock as he wraps the end of the belt over his fist a couple of times. your skin smashing against his, the delicious sound of your soaking cunt against his balls, and the disgusting (joyful) moans from yours and his mouths are delightful. over, and over, and over again will he hit that perfect spot as you keep scratching his back- a clear sign you enjoy it. you guys end in cowgirl, and he's nipping at your ear as you beg him to cum inside of you (he has a condom, but he's tempted to slip it off). much to your dismay, he denies your requests, saying that your punishment is something you shouldn't be enjoying

- just like his brothers, he'll reassure you he didn't mean any of those things- that they were part of the mood. he'll scoop you out of the bed and run a warm bath, and he'll join you as you sleep peacefully against his chest as he shampoos your hair

- of course you'll be doing this again, and Bi Han will always be ready for a challenge

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i won't tell you guys which brother represents my bf, but just know my intimate life is wonderful

the final couple of requests are coming to a close, and i'm so excited to write my own stuff for both COD and MK

aight, see yall in the next fic!

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msnmnt · 11 days

Text

The Morning After

pic from pinterest 🩶

A/N: I like to think this is in the same universe as my other fics, taking place between Lay Your Love On Me and Teach You, but I think it’s also fine to be read on it’s own.

Summary: Contains smut! Taking place the morning after Mase takes y/n’s virginity, there’s lots of fluff for the aftermath the morning after. Then… Mason wants to make her feel good once more. 😏 Enjoy! 💗 (ps sorry for the unoriginal title, I need to work on that 😅)

- - - - -

Your eyes fluttered open, slowly blinking as you adjusted to the dim room, lit only by the daylight that was seeping through the light grey curtains that you didn’t completely recognise.

It took you a few moments to properly wake up, but soon the memories from the previous night were flooding back to you. They were Mason’s curtains, and you were tucked up in Mason’s bed.

You gradually remembered the events from the previous evening and how it had ended with Mason being his usual total sweetheart self, not wanting you to move and cleaning you up with a wet cloth and towel so you could stay comfy in his bed. You recalled how your cheeks had flushed a crimson colour as he wiped between your legs, catching his attention when you winced slightly at the sensation of the cold water on the area which was so sensitive. Mason’s head had jolted to look at you, his heart dropping at the little whimper that left your mouth. You had had to reassure him that you were okay, just a little sensitive, and he had continued cleaning you up.

Mason had gone on to dress you in one of his tops that he knew you loved, and the pair of you had snuggled down, limbs tangled as you indulged in some pillow talk. But if Mason was honest, he had barely taken in what you were saying, far too enamoured by the glow on your face that he was sure had only appeared after he had made love to you. He could feel himself falling more and more in love with you as he listened to you quietly ramble on about not much, softly blinking as his eyes fixated on your features, the way they were so perfect to him.

You couldn’t quite remember falling asleep, but you did remember how the evening had ended with Mason cuddled up behind you, his arms looped around your waist as he held your body against his, telling you how good you did for him and how in love with you he was.

You didn’t have chance to register that Mason’s arms were no longer caging you in, far too caught up in your thoughts as your tummy buckled at just how perfect your caring boyfriend had made the previous night. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. Well, that was what you thought, till you noticed Mason wander through his bedroom floor, dressed in nothing but a pair of grey jogging bottoms that sat dangerously low on his hips.

He tried his best to tip toe in, his hands gripping tightly onto a tray filled with two croissants and two glasses of fresh orange juice.

You couldn’t fight back the smile on your face as you sat up in bed. When Mason noticed you were awake, he tutted in disappointment before carefully placing the tray onto the bed.

“Why’re you awake?” Mason asked, unreasonably annoyed that he hadn’t got the chance to wake you up with breakfast in bed like he had planned out in his head.

“Because you have the thinnest curtains known to man.” You chuckled, looking over at the thin bits of fabric which were now doing little to hold back the sunlight. “Seriously, you can tell you haven’t had a woman’s touch around this place.” You rubbed at your sleepy eyes before scanning the room. His furniture was nice and the room was modern, but you could tell none of it had really been given much thought.

“You can give it your touch all you want, baby.” Mason climbed onto the bed, slipping himself back under the covers. “I’m serious, you can do whatever you want to it.” Mason cupped your face in his hand, his eyes looking over the sleepy but lovey look on your face, matching his.

He lent in, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss. His other hand slipped to go under the shirt of his that you were wearing, holding your hip as he licked at your bottom lip. You gladly opened up to allow his tongue to slip in, the minty taste of his toothpaste making your mouth tingle.

Mason’s kisses got hungrier and your lips turned up into a grin as you pulled away, your gaze snapping down to the bedding and noticing that Mason’s sudden movements had jolted the tray, causing the juice to spill over the top of the glass.

Mason shrugged his shoulders, bringing his face back to yours, and you giggled at how keen he was.

“Mase, baby.” You laughed as he looked on innocently, completely smitten and just wanting to show you love. “Be careful, you’re going to get the bedding all wet.”

Mason gave you a look and raised his eyebrows, and you just rolled your eyes at his childness.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Mason settled down next to you and you shared the pastries, making quick work of eating them all. You sat in mostly a comfortable silence and you couldn’t help but beam at how natural the domestic setting had you feeling.

As you ate, Mason kept a hand on your thigh, lightly stroking as he just wanted to keep his hands on your soft skin at all times.

Once you had finished the pastries and juice, Mason put the tray to one side before reaching his arm out and tapping his bare chest. You felt your tummy flutter as you shifted yourself over to allow his body to envelope yours, his hand coming to grip at your arm as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead, the softness making you nuzzle your head into him.

“How’re you feeling this morning, angel?” Mason asked before planting one more kiss to your hair, grabbing one of your hands in his and intertwining them in his lap.

“I feel good.” You turned to look up at him, his honey eyes staring back into yours with a look of love and adoration. “Really good, actually.” You smiled and Mason’s heart thudded at how genuinely happy you looked. He was so glad he had managed to relax you and make the night memorable for you as well, for all the right reasons.

Something about the way he was looking at you with such softness and care as well paired with the thoughts back to last night seemed to enlighten something in you and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together.

You pulled your hand from Mason’s and he furrowed his brows in confusion before watching as you bought it to his bare chest, ever so slightly tracing your nails across his chest and running them all the way down to the tops of his jogging bottoms. A little giggle left Mason and you were sure it was the sweetest sound you had ever heard, deciding to continue dragging your nails across his chest in random patterns, up and down, diagonal and across, as he watched on, small sighs leaving his parted lips at the sensation.

After a few minutes, you finally convinced yourself to be brave and you lightly grazed your hand over his crotch, noticing the faint outline of his cock as it was clear he was not wearing boxers.

Mason let his eyes fall shut as he took in a few breaths, your hand brushing over his hardening cock. Finally he convinced himself to reach down and gently grab your wrist in his hand, stopping your movements.

“What’re you doing, baby?” Mason asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

You shrugged, trying your best to mask how nervous you were at trying to make the first move. You don’t want to, but seeing Mase sat there all shirtless and sexy, the heat was pooling in your stomach, and you had to do something about it.

“I just thought I could maybe - maybe touch you. Try and make you come with my hand.” You admitted shyly and Mason felt his cock twitch at your words. He tried his best to compose himself, shaking his head.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed so you were laying flat, coming to hover above you. Mason cupped your cheek, his thumb lightly stroking at your soft skin.

“Absolutely not baby.” He begun to scatter soft kisses to your neck, feeling pleased with himself when he noticed the small but purple mark behind your ear that he had left last night, gently soothing the skin with his tongue. “My girl deserves the best.” He cupped your cheek, his thumb lightly stroking at your soft skin. “Anyway, what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let you do that before I’ve gone down on you?” His breath fanned over your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You crooked your neck down, your face warming at his words and the feel of his breath on you. His warm skin on yours. His sweet words filling you with complete joy.

Mason scattered little kisses all over your face, his hands wandering down the curves of your body. He slipped your top (his) top up your body till your midriff was exposed and he begun to plant sloppy kisses to your skin, his lips dangerously close to where you really wanted them.

“Mase…” Your couldn’t help him name from falling from your lips, your heat pulsing.

“Yeah, baby?” He asked smuggly before scootching down the bed a little more so he could scatter wet, open mouth kisses to the insides of your thighs, purposely avoiding going where you really wanted him as your hips twitched up slightly, making Mason chuckle.

“Please…” Your voice was laced with desperation but Mason was feeling cheeky, loving having you so desperate for him.

Mason moved his mouth over your mound, his breath hitting your core. You squirmed once more and Mason bought his hands to grip at your hips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” His lips pressed a kiss to your centre and a whimper fell from your lips, music to Mason’s ears.

You looked down and the sight of Mason’s head between your legs made you go crazy. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, finding it difficult to hold yourself together.

His hands played with the sides of your knickers and he looked up at you, feeling smug as your eyes were glazed over, completely fixated on him and what he was doing.

He pulled them down your legs, his eyes falling straight to your pussy, his cock twitching.

“Gonna be a good girl for me, huh?”

You whimpered at his words and Mason huffed smugly, finally giving what you wanted and planting a single kiss to your clit.

He pulled away again, dragging the tip of his finger slowly up your slit, watching on as you squirmed under his touch.

Mason took in the sight of how wet your folds were, and he couldn’t wait to ruin you.

He ducked his head down to blow on your most sensitive area, smirking when he saw your entire body twitch at the sensation. He used his fingers to part your lips slightly, groaning as you pulsed around nothing, whimpering slightly in desperation.

Mason left kitten licks all around your slit, gasps leaving your mouth as you felt him so close to where you were so desperate for him. Finally Mason’s tongue licked a stripe to your clit, and you let out a strangled mix between a gasp and a moan, your whole body relaxing and sinking into the mattress beneath you.

You reached your hands down to tangle into his hair as his tongue continue to perfectly work your nub, swirling round in circles. You lightly tugged at Mason’s hair and he moaned in response, the sound vibrating through your core.

The sweet sounds falling from your lips as his tongue worked you to perfection had Mason repositioning himself between your legs so his lower body came into contact with the bed beneath him, allowing him to shamelessly rut his hips into the soft mattress, relieving some of the pressure he was feeling.

Mason bumped his nose to your clit and you brought your hand to the nape of his neck, softly playing with the hair there as his tongue swiped over your slick folds. Your hips jolted slightly and your pussy rubbed against his nose once more, eliciting the sweetest of moans from your lips, causing Mason to moan, muffled into your heat.

He pulled away before using his thumb to mimic the previous movements of his tongue, the perfect circles making you throw your head back against the pillows below you.

Mason slowly sunk one finger into you, intently focused on your face to make sure you weren’t in any kind of pain. He curled his finger and as it brushed against the spongey part, he felt you clench around him, your nails seeping into the skin at his neck.

He whined as his lips stayed attached to your clit, licking and gently suckling as he straightened out the finger he had buried deep in you before curling it to graze against your g-spot. You were in complete bliss, a mixture of whimpers and moans leaving your parted lips as you watched him work your body so sweetly.

Mason slipped a second finger in, sliding in so easily with how wet he had got you. He was quick to find the same rhythm as before, his fingers curling at the perfect angle as he expertly fucked you with them.

The pleasure was piling in your tummy and your thighs were shaking, threatening to close around his head. Mason used his free hand to press into the soft flesh of your thigh, pinning you down.

You could feel your high approaching and you wanted nothing more than for Mason to carry on just what he was doing, so when he pulled his mouth away you let out a strangled groan in dismay. Mason smirked to himself as he watched on as you writhed beneath him, his fingers still inside of you as you looked up at him, eyes wide and confused as you stuck out your bottom lip at the loss of contact.

You were taken by surprise when you felt Mason spit onto your clit, his fingers slipping out of you to messily spread his salvia on your pussy.

“Fuck, Mason…” You moaned, knowing you wouldn’t last much longer. Your thighs involuntary tried to close around his head once more, and he dug his fingers into your skin harder, sure to leave fingerprints as he pinned your thigh back to give his the access he needed.

He slipped two fingers back into you, pumping and curling them to brush perfectly against your g-spot as his tongue swirled your now overly sensitive clit.

“Mase.” A strangled moan slipped from your lips as you struggled to compose yourself any longer. “I don’t think - I feel like I’m gonna - oh.”

The noise that fell from your lips only spurred him on more. He removed his hand from your hip and placed it flat on your stomach, pressing down slightly. Mason was certain he could feel his own fingers as they curved inside of you, the feeling making him groan into your core.

“Masey, baby-“

“It’s okay, princess.” Mason mumbled into your pussy, focused on keeping his movements exactly the same, wanting nothing more than to bring you to your high now. “Let go for me, angel. Come all over my tongue.” He reattached his lips to your clit, gently sucking and licking as he felt your pussy tightly grasp around his fingers.

A uncontrollable sob fell from your lips as your thighs tightened around him, allowing the blissful feeling to completely take over your body. You pulled at his hair a little harder than you probably should’ve as his fingers and tongue made you see stars, and he groaned into your core.

Once you both managed to calm your breathing, Mason gently slipped his fingers out, trying his best to compose himself.

You tried your best to open your eyes but you couldn’t help them from falling shut as you took some breaths, attempting to bring yourself back fo reality.

Mason surfaced from between your legs, a massive grin across his face as your chest raised up and down rapidly. His lips were glistening and you felt yourself blush at the mess you made on his face, but Mason was completely shameless. He held your face and kissed you softly and tenderly before slipping his tongue into your mouth, the taste of yourself on him making you pull away shyly.

”I’ll be back in 5 minutes, I just need to have a shower real quick.” Mason said before planting a final quick kiss to your lips, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart twinge in disappointment at him leaving you already, even if it was just for 5 minutes.

“Oh.” You mumbled out disappointed, which Mason picked up on straight away.

“Sorry angel, it’s just - I’ve made a bit of a mess in my pants.” He trailed off, nuzzling his face into your neck in embarrassment.

Your eyes widened and you raised your eyebrows. “You… you came in your pants?” You questioned, a little unsure till you felt Mason nod into your neck.

He pulled back up to look at you, his face reddening. “I couldn’t help it. The noises you were making and how you were tugging my hair just made me so fucking hard, baby.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but feel pleased with yourself, your confidence increasing more and more. “Maybe I could… join you in the shower?” You asked hopefully. “I guess I need to clean up too.”

Mason grinned, grabbing your hand and leading the way into his en-suite where the pair of you basked in the warm water, the shower full of nothing more than lots of sweet touches and soft kisses as you washed each other clean.

- - - - -

#mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine

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therealcocoshady · 2 months

Note

Coco!! Just wanted to say THANK YOU for indulging another one of my requests and so QUICKLY too. I know you’re busy, busy and I really appreciate it! This was everything I ASKED for and more! Love me some sweet and sexy Marsh 🤍💪🏼🧘🏻‍♀️💦💋🌶️🥵🧸

Hope you enjoy a ☕️ or 2 on me! 😉

A/N : Hi bestie 🌟. Thank YOU for supporting me and being my first ever commission ❤️.

For those of you who didn’t know, you can support my writing by giving tips on my Ko-Fi account and I am now open for commissions as well 😏.

@shady-577 kindly allowed me to post the commission on this blog, too, to I hope y’all enjoy 🌟

Sweat Session

Marshall was a very healthy person and it showed. On your very first date, he’d told you about him trying to lead a healthy lifestyle by maintaining his sobriety, eating well and exercising and, two years into your relationship, he was more than consistent. You had recently moved in together and you got to see just how seriously he took it. And as he was getting ready to drop a new album, perform regularly again and do some promo, he started exercising even more. Not only it kept him fit, but it also helped him deal with his stress. He got up even earlier in the morning to hit the gym and, even though you enjoy the fruits of his labor (what with him being even more buff than before), you were a little grumpy not to have your man in bed with you when you woke up. And since he spent even more time at work, polishing the album and working on the promo, you didn’t see him as much as you liked, which made you a little frustrated.

- You know, you could hit the gym with me, he suggested with a smile when you told him about your annoyance. Might do some good.

- Is this a sneaky way of telling me I’ve gained weight ? You asked as you side-eyed him.

- What ? No ! He immediately said. I’m just saying it’s healthy to exercise. You could wake up a little earlier and join me in the gym.

- Or you could skip a day and stay in bed with me tomorrow morning, you suggested with a charming grin.

- Not happening, doll, he said with a smile. Need to be consistent.

- Fine, you groaned.

With the public appearances and photo shoots he had planned, as well as music videos to shoot, he wanted to look buff. At 51 years old, he didn’t want to be seen as some « aging rapper who let himself go ». And sure enough, the results were there. His chest was chesting and he had Twitter go feral over the outline of his pecs, clearly visible on the latest pics of him at Dre’s Walk of Fame ceremony.

The next day, you woke up to the sound of his alarm going off and let out a groan. He whispered an apology and kissed your forehead before going to the home gym in the basement. You tried to fall back to sleep but without your man by your side, the bed felt cold and empty. That’s when you decided enough was enough. You got up and put on a cute working out outfit, which looked more like underwear than clothes you could actually work out in, consisting of a bra and the tiniest shorts ever. Just enough fabric to highlight your figure and make your ass and breast pop out. When you got downstairs, you saw him working out on an incline bench, absorbed on what he was doing. He was wearing simple sweatpants and sneakers, not even bothering with a teeshirt. The view reminded you of how lucky you were. You looked at him from afar for a good while, him so focused that he didn’t even notice you standing there, practically drooling.

- Hi handsome, you said seductively. Mind if I join you ?

- You decided to get up after- he began. Jesus Christ…

- Yes ? You said innocently.

- You’re gonna work out in these ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You don’t like it ? You asked.

- I don’t think that’s enough fabric for me to critique, he hummed.

- Far be it from me to distract you, you said with a smile. Unless…

- I have to work out, babe, he said with a frown. But you’re welcome to join.

You shrugged. You’d been dating for a while but, clearly, he should know better than to assume you didn’t have more tricks up your sleeve. You kicked off your sneakers and grabbed a yoga mat, strategically placing it so that he’d have a good view. You started stretching, going from pose to pose. He kept on working out next to you, though you could see his gaze.

- Like what you see ? You hummed.

- Making sure you’re doing it right, he said with a grin.

- Sure, you giggled.

He got up while you were in downward facing dog and put a hand on your hip, helping you stretch your back a little.

- You know, these tiny shorts don’t hide much, he whispered in your ear. Especially not in this pose.

- Oh yeah ? You asked as you switched to a three-legged down dog that gave him an even better view.

- Fuck, he muttered under his breath.

You kept your flow going under his watchful eye, looking at you as if you were a snack.

- I think my flexibility is not too bad, you remarked.

- It’s really good, he mumbled. Really good.

- Thank you for correcting my posture, my love, you said innocently. Let me repay the favor and spot you.

He hummed and laid back on the inclined bench, grabbing some halters, working on his arms. You gently ran your hand on his biceps, feeling how much bigger they had gotten in the past weeks.

- So muscular, you said seductively. You are so strong…

- Am I ? He mused.

- And that chest, you continued. It’s all for the « Stan » shirt lift for your upcoming tour, isn’t it ?

He looked at you with a grin, knowing this particular move drove you absolutely crazy. You watched him exercise. He clearly didn’t need you to spot him, and you knew it, but this allowed you to stare. He sat back up and grabbed his water bottle, taking a big gulp. You were staring at each other with « fuck me eyes » and you could tell he was trying hard not to give in to the temptation.

- You’re awfully distracting, woman, he said.

- Maybe you need to take a little break, you suggested. I think it’s time you were shown some appreciation for all this hard work…

He smiled and playfully shook his head before taking another gulp of water. Some of it missed his mouth and trailed down his neck and chest. You stepped closer and ran your tongue on his neck, catching the iced liquid. He let out a groan, letting you know how pleasurable it was.

- Let’s not be wasteful with water, now, you said seductively. Oh, I think I missed some…

You proceeded to kiss his chest, catching the water with your mouth. You took advantage of the moment and placed a kiss on one of his pecs. He chuckled and pulled you to him so that you’d sit in his lap before kissing you passionately.

- You’re impossible, he hummed between kissed. I can’t focus.

- And you’re a fucking tease, you retorted as you kissed him back. I’m only human, you know ?

- I’ll give you teasing, he grinned.

With one movement of his knee, he had you spread your legs for him, before running his fingers on the inside of your thigh. You hummed in pleasure as his hand got dangerously close to your pussy, eventually cupping it over the thin fabric of your shorts, making you sigh in pleasure.

- Is this what you wanted ? He asked playfully.

- Yes, you whined.

There was nothing more you loved than to sit in his lap, his arms around you, free to run his hands across your body. He knew it and he happily obliged, keeping on teasing you over your clothes, cupping your breasts and grazing your nipples with his fingers. He freed one of your boobs from your sports bra and pinched the nipple, making you moan in pleasure. You automatically started grinding against his thigh, your body desperate for some release.

- Look at this, he chuckled. You don’t need me to take care of you. Looks like you’re doing it on your own.

- Please, you asked breathily. Marshall.

- Patience, love, he whispered in your ear before letting his hand go back to your pussy.

He played with you over the fabric, no doubt feeling how wet you were. His head was buried in your neck and you could feel his smile against your skin. You kept on moaning, desperate for more. Eventually, you took matters in your own hands and knelt between his legs. You decided to put him through the same misery and stroked his high through his sweatpants, going higher and higher with each motion. Even through the fabric, you could see his growing bulge. You looked up to him and saw that he was looking in the mirror across the room, admiring the view of you, kneeling for him.

- You’re so beautiful in this position,he said as he ran a hand through your hair.

- Keep enjoying the view, then, you suggested with a smirk.

You tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips to allow you to lower them, eventually kicking his sneakers so that you’d remove the whole thing, along with his boxers. There was something about him, naked on the bench, his massive erection showing you how excited he was. You stroked his cock and gave it a few pumps before approaching your face.

- I could leave you like this, you mused. Like you’ve left me alone in our bed…

- Babe, no, he pleaded. Please.

You thoroughly enjoyed reversing the power dynamic. By the look he was giving you, you could tell that he was wrapped around your finger, eating in the palm of your hand. You gave him a mischievous grin and started licking the tip of his cock, earning sighs of pleasure in the process. You kept on stroking the length while kitten licking the head, knowing it drove him crazy, that he wanted nothing more than for you to take all of him in your mouth. Eventually, you did and he moaned loudly, still holding on to your hair. You kept on sucking him, hollowing your cheeks to pleasure him even more. You took as much as you could, making you drool all over his cock. You stared at him from below and saw he was bemused by the reflection of you sucking him in the mirror. You could feel him twitch inside of your mouth, a sign that he was about to come.

- Stop, he warned.

- You can come, you said as you kept on stroking him.

- Don’t want to, he said. Not yet.

He helped you get up and kissed you hungrily before undressing you. He sat back and pulled you so that you’d straddle his lap, giving him an opportunity to suck on your tits while grabbing a handful of your ass. He lined himself at your entrance and inserted himself, making you whimper. There it was. What you’d been craving. The sole sensation of him inside you was heavenly. His mouth traveled between your nipple and your neck, proving that he knew your sweet spots all too well.

- is this what you wanted ? He asked breathily.

- Yes, you whispered.

He started thrusting his hips slowly, making sure to bottom into you and hit your sweet spot. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sloppily, dying to be close to him as ever. The making out was hotter than ever and you always wanted more, desperate for some release, knowing this man could make you come like no one else before him.

- Faster, you begged. Harder. Please.

He gave you a smirk and carried you to another bench that was slightly higher. He had you on your knees, ass up and face down and penetrated you roughly, making you scream before thrusting violently. He was going so fast that you had trouble catching your breath. But at the same time, it was so good, so hot to have him use you. His thrusts became slower again and he put your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look in a mirror in front of you. You could see your faces twisting in pleasure. His gaze met yours and he gave you a smirk before quickening his pace. He closed his eyes and all hell broke loose. His hips moved faster than ever, hitting you deep. There was no doubt that you’d be sore for the following days but, in the instant, neither of you cared, lost in the pleasure. You moved your hips in sync, trying to keep up with him. You didn’t want it to end and, yet, you could feel you were both so close to climax. The coup de grâce came when he looped a hand around you to reach and rub your swollen clit, making you cry in ecstasy. You could feel your juices flowing, forming a puddle underneath you, in which you inevitably collapsed, Marshall on top of you.

The both of you stayed still and silent for a minute, taking the time to catch your breath. Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss there that made you shiver.

- Are you alright, love ? He asked as he got up.

- Y-yes, you replied as you were still struggling to breathe properly.

He chuckled and got up with a grunt, grabbing a towel to clean you and a water bottle to help you hydrate. You let him clean you and sat up on the bench, taking a good look at his naked form. In spite of rocking a buzz cut, he still looked disheveled and insanely sexy.

- You’re so hot, you said lovingly.

- Is that why you jumped on me ? He asked with a smirk.

- Maybe, you giggled. Been missing you, lately.

He gave you a smile and wrapped you in his strong arms before kissing you.

- Missed you too, he said. But you do realize you’re the main reason I’m doing all of this for, don’t you ?

- Am I ? You mused.

- Of course, he hummed. When I’m making music, I think of how much I want you to be proud. And when I’m here… my main motivation is you. I want to look good for you. You’re always on my mind.

You cooed and kissed him tenderly. He was too adorable.

- Well, I am proud of you. And I do think you look incredible me you complimented. I’m proud to be yours.

- I love you, he said. How about a shower before you need to go to work ?

- Ok, you said with a pout.

You got up and he grabbed you by the waist before leading you out of the home gym.

- I like fucking you in here, he hummed. I can’t believe we waited so long for this, though.

- We’ll have to do it again, you said with a smile. I can think of a few creative ways to use that gym equipment.

- Oh believe me, next time I’m putting those resistance bands to good use, he chuckled. I guess it completes the tour of the house. We’ve officially done it in every room of the house.

- Does that make me a permanent resident ? You grinned.

- It does, he chortled.

- Oh no, there’s one room missing, though, you said.

He looked at you with a frown, knowing exactly where you were going with this. He sternly shook his head as he led you to the stairs.

- Nope, he said. Don’t even thing about it. We’re not doing it in the hope studio. I have rules.

- We’ll see, you grinned.

- I’m not going to cave in, he warned.

- You know I like a challenge, you said innocently. Besides… you love me. You wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He chuckled, failing to keep the annoyed look on his face. You knew he loved you being all needy, and that there was only so much charm offensive he could resist.

- We’ll see, he hummed before bringing your hand to his lips and then placing a loving kiss on your ring finger.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Eminem smut #Eminem commission

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iamtired10 · 1 month

Text

once upon a sleepless night

pairing: pham hanni x fem! reader

genre: pure fluff.

warning: mention of mother insomnia and kissing.

SUMMARY: it’s one of those sleepless nights again. you’re restless, mind racing, but hanni, even though she’s exhausted from her long day, decides to tell you a whimsical fairytale to help lull you into dreamland.

you sighed as you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms and glancing at the clock on your desk. 9:53 a.m...

“i’ve been at this for four hours straight.. still tired but not sleepy,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead as a persistent ache throbbed. regretting the 7 cups of coffee you’d downed today, you wondered what you could do. you always felt drowsy in class and needed the caffeine to stay awake.

rising from your chair, you decided a break was in order. grabbing your phone and a lollipop from the desk (a sweet gift from your best friend’s sister while you were hanging out), you settled on the couch. you turned on the tv and started scrolling through your phone.

absentmindedly munching on the lollipop, you browsed instagram, checking out the latest posts from newjeans.

**buzz! buzz!!**

a notification popped up, jolting you from your scrolling.

pham honey:

hey there, gorgeous..

the love of my life..

do you need me to bring you anything before i arrive?

your eyes widened in surprise. you paused your lollipop mid-chew, reading hanni’s message over and over.

“wait—what does she mean by 'she’s coming'?” you wondered aloud, trying to recall if she’d mentioned a visit today. nothing came to mind. she’d been swamped with idol commitments, and it had been a month since you last saw her. newjeans had just had their comeback, and they were buried in work—stages, photoshoots, and all the usual idol grind.

and you missed her. a lot.

her hugs, her kisses, her voice, her smile, her playful teasing, her jokes—everything.

you quickly tapped out a response, your excitement evident.

you:

wait you’re coming over?

omg, you could’ve given me a heads up!

i didn’t clean my room today 🙂💔

and all i need right now is

you ❤️

come back soon

our plants miss you so much

i mean, our ‘kids’

simpsona smith

and flex armstrong

pham honey:

hehe i wanted to surprise you 🤭

i’ve got a day off tomorrow

so manager unnie finally gave me the go-ahead to visit you.. yay!

what did you mean by ‘you need me’ though? 😏

care to explain? 😜

and i MISS our ‘kids’ so much 😭

have they grown up at all? 🥺

i’m going to shower them with water and love when i get there 🤭

you:

well it’s not a surprise anymore😕

when i said i need you, i meant that i miss you so much, you silly bunny

you’re the only one who completes me

honestly i can't even put into words how much i miss you

could you hurry up a bit

so i can finally give you that big hug?

pretty please 🙏🏻

pham honey:

ooh~ 😏

someone seems extra needy for my affection today huh?

alright i’ll try to walk faster

but be patient, baby.

patience 😉

and...i’m super excited to see you.

i MISSED you too… like a ton?

i’ve been hugging my pillow at night, pretending it’s you ☹️

i can’t wait to shower you with kisses, like SO MANY kisses.

and cuddle you endlessly.

i LOVE YOU so much that it’s hard to even describe.

oh my god why are you so perfect?

you’re unbelievably perfect and i can’t believe you’re MY girlfriend, mine <3

you’re mine

oh god 🤭 i THINK I’M OBSESSED.

seriously baby... marry me 😍

you:

stop texting

and come home quickly

you walk so slowly with your short legs ☹️

and don’t you dare be late

pham honey:

wow. that’s kind of rude!

alright alright 🙄

you couldn’t help but smile as you set your phone down. “why is she so cute...” you murmured to yourself. with a sense of urgency, you mentally chastised yourself. “y/n, clean the room before she arrives!” you told yourself as you stood up, lollipop still clutched between your teeth.

you made your way to your room, determined to tidy up. the bed was reasonably clean but still a little messy. you didn’t want your perfect girlfriend, hanni pham, to see it less than immaculate. she deserved everything to be just as perfect as she was.

while humming contentedly and chewing your lollipop, you changed the bedsheets to fresh ones, making sure everything looked neat and inviting.

after you finished, you glanced at the clock. it was 9:31 p.m.

“when is she coming back...” you wondered aloud as you grabbed another lollipop from your desk, tossing the stick from the previous one into the trash. you stepped out of the room, a chuckle escaping you as you imagined hanni possibly tripping over her own feet. it was amusing but also a bit worrying.

hanni was always unpredictable. like, REALLY unpredictable.

you never knew what kind of delightful mischief she’d get up to next...

and it only made her cuter.

you loved her for it.

you loved her for exactly who she was.

you reached for your phone, which you’d left on the couch earlier. the tv’s soft hum played in the background, a distant noise in your current state of anticipation.

just as you were about to enter the final number of your password—

**ding-dong!!**

the doorbell rang loudly, making you jump slightly. “is that her?” you mumbled, the lollipop still dangling from your mouth.

“probably her,” you mused to yourself.

you made your way to the front door, fingers gripping the doorknob. you took a deep breath, peeking through the peephole to get a glimpse of the visitor.

there she was—standing outside the door, looking absolutely adorable in a hoodie...

wait a second—

IS THAT YOUR HOODIE!?

with a resigned sigh, you thought, “nothing new, she’s swiped my hoodie again…”

but she’s finally here...

why am i so nervous? you wondered, turning back to the door. slowly, you opened it. before you could even get a good look, she leapt into your arms, hugging you like a koala.

“oh my god, hanni, i can’t breathe,” you groaned, feeling her arms tighten around you. “come on, you’re squishing me.” even as you grumbled, you couldn’t deny how much you needed this.

“no way,” she mumbled into your neck. “i’ve waited a whole month to hold you again. baby, i missed you so much, like a person who’s lost something vital and can’t get through the day without it.” you stood there, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face, as you wrapped your arms around her. with your foot, you nudged the door shut and locked it.

“can you let go now?” you asked, making your way into the living room.

“uh-uh,” she shook her head, her nose buried in your scent. “why do you always smell so good?” she asked, pulling back just enough for her eyes to meet yours. she looked both exhausted and exhilarated. “i don’t use much perfume. it must just be my natural scent,” you shrugged, still chewing on your lollipop as you gently tried to pull her off the couch.

“no, don’t pull away!” she protested, pouting and crossing her arms, clearly disappointed. “you can’t just push me away after i’ve missed you so much!”

“you just came in from outside. go wash up first, you might have germs. i can’t risk catching anything—eww,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you settled down on the couch opposite her. she huffed in response, turning her head away with a dramatic sigh. “seriously, how could you be so rude?” she grumbled.

“i’m just being careful, you know. can’t help it if that bruises your ego,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips. “and let’s talk about the whole stealing thing, shall we?”

“stealing? me?” hanni raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you’d just accused her of some heinous crime. “when did i ever steal?”

you rolled your eyes, finally taking the lollipop stick out of your mouth and licking your lips. “don’t try that innocent act with me, pham. it’s not gonna work.”

she huffed dramatically. “fine! i might’ve borrowed one hoodie…”

“oh, just the one?” you crossed your arms, leaning back with a knowing grin.

“ugh, okay, fine! three hoodies!”

you shook your head, a mock-serious look on your face. “no more cuddles for you—”

“five! okay, five of your hoodies! happy now?”

you chuckled, clearly amused. “now i am. i think i'll call the cops now. imagine the headlines: ‘newjeans’ hanni caught red-handed stealing five hoodies from a fan, scandalizing her career.’”

“oh, shut up!” she pouted, crossing her arms. “i have every right to take your hoodies! i need something that smells like you when i miss you... and i even left one of my favorite hoodies with you, didn’t i?” she tried to sound indignant but it came out more like a whine.

without warning, she launched herself at you, nearly knocking you over. you caught her with a laugh, holding her close as she snuggled against you like a clingy koala.

“seriously, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day,” you grumbled, though you couldn’t hide the smile on your face as you felt her warm breath against your neck.

“oh, please. you’re the one who was begging me to get here fast so you could hug me,” she retorted, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

you ran your fingers through her hair, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “okay, maybe i was being a little sweet... but i didn’t mean it that much.”

“liar!” she pinched your side playfully, making you yelp.

“ow, hanni!” you whined, trying to pull away, but she tightened her grip around you.

“hmm..” she looked up, her eyes meeting yours, weary and soft. “you look exhausted,” you mumbled, gently rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles. she sighed, cupping your face in her small hands. “i am... really tired... today’s practice was brutal. we recorded a new song today and... oh! you know, dani tried to moonwalk and tripped over her own feet!” she chuckled, her eyes lighting up for a moment. “haerin and i had a dance battle... but she beat me this time. minji was teasing me, as usual... and, oh! by the way, hyein told me to say hi. she misses you.” hanni rambled on, her voice a sweet melody to your ears. you couldn't help but chuckle softly as you brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“you’re just too cute, baby... i can’t handle it,” you sighed, feeling a surge of affection wash over you. her cuteness was something that always left you both awestruck and grateful.

sometimes, you wondered what good deed you had done in life to deserve a girlfriend as wonderful as her.

“oh, shut up... i’m not that cute,” she grumbled, hiding her face in your neck, her voice muffled. “i don’t get why you and bunnies find me so adorable... you guys are too much.” she playfully hit your chest, causing you to laugh. you pulled her closer, enjoying the way she felt in your arms. “oh, my hanhan is flustered, i see. did i make you blush? yayyy!”

“l/n y/n, can you shut up... or i’ll kiss you,” she threatened, pulling back with a pout. you smirked, “oh really? but sorry, i'm busy eating my lollipop right now.” you teased, chewing the lollipop with a mischievous grin. she rolled her eyes. “is it weird that i'm jealous of that lollipop? you’re giving it more attention than me—”

“excuse me!? pham hanni, stop being so blunt!” you raised your eyebrows, feigning shock, as she crossed her arms, her expression daring. “can’t help it when you're licking that lollipop like that... it's kinda seductive.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, caught off guard by her words. “y-you're so weird...” you muttered, turning your gaze away. “don't look at me like that, you little freak.”

she chuckled at your flustered state, her fingers gently tilting your chin back toward her. “what look, darling?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. before you could respond, she reached out and popped the lollipop out of your mouth, bringing it close to her own lips. “hey, what the hell? that's mine!” you protested, but she just grinned wider.

“it must be really sweet, the way you were eating it... i want to see if it's as good as it looks...” she murmured, her voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. your eyes widened in realization. “no! don't! that's gross, i already licked it! a little kid gave me that, and you can't just—”

“who said i was going to taste it from here?” she interrupted with a chuckle, her voice sultry and suggestive.

you froze, narrowing your eyes, trying to process her words. then it hit you.

“pham hanni, don’t you dare—”

before you could finish, she leaned in, capturing your lips with hers in a kiss that felt like she had been waiting forever for this moment.

her lips moved against yours with a hunger and intensity that left you breathless, her hands tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss, leaving your lips swollen and red, and a few love bites on your neck as souvenirs.

just your average pham hanni behavior...

“baby, you're not sleeping?” you snapped out of your thoughts as you looked up from your notebook. you stopped writing and saw hanni lifting her head up from the bed. her hair was a bit messy, her eyes half-open, wearing one of your pajamas, looking absolutely adorable.

“ah.. i just have a few things to finish, my sweet bunny. did the lamp wake you up? sorry, i'll turn it away a bit..” you smiled, adjusting the light so it wouldn't bother her. hanni sat up with a sigh, rubbing her eyes. “what do you mean by 'a few things'? it's 2 a.m... you should be in bed too...” she yawned, clearly still half-asleep.

“can't sleep...” you admitted with a small, nervous laugh, turning your chair to face her. “did you have a nightmare or something? do you want me to cuddle you again?” you asked, getting up and moving towards her side of the bed. she reached out, grabbing your shirt sleeve and pulling you closer, wrapping her arms around your waist. “no, you're the one who should be sleeping...” she mumbled, her voice still heavy with exhaustion.

“you didn’t get much rest last night, and now you’re up again... working through the night like an owl or something,” she huffed, pressing her face against your stomach. you chuckled, patting her back gently. “baby, i can’t help it... even when i’m dead tired, i just can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter what i do...” you admitted, watching as her eyes widened slightly.

“has this been happening a lot lately?” she asked, concern evident in her tone. you nodded. she sighed, “sounds like insomnia... you’ve got insomnia, babe.”

“yeah, you could say that... but don’t sweat it.” you shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck. she scoffed, “don’t sweat it? do you even know how bad insomnia is?! it makes you tired... *yawn*... gives you poor concentration, mood swings, and increased stress or anxiety... it’s sooo bad. it can lead to health problems like heart disease, high blood pressure, and even accidents due to drowsiness...”

“oh... you’re making it sound like a big deal...” you laughed nervously, your hand gently caressing her back. "it is!” hanni insisted.

“we need to fix this.. chamomile tea, meditation, melatonin…” her voice trailed off as sleepiness tugged at her again. despite her best efforts to stay awake and worried for you, she was clearly still exhausted. all she could think about was making you chamomile tea in the morning or finding a meditation video on youtube to help you relax.

“you’re still so tired...” you tilted your head, observing her. “yes, but you’re even more tired than i am... so get in.” she sighed, letting go of your waist and scooting over to make room. “huh, what?”

“get in bed, dumbass,” she said, snuggling back under the blanket and patting the space next to her.

“uh... okay, let me just turn off the lamp...” you murmured, reaching over to turn off the light before climbing into bed beside her.

you groaned as you turned to the other side... it's been an hour now, and you still can't fall asleep. beside you, hanni was fast asleep again, clearly exhausted from her long day. you could hear the soft sounds of her breathing, occasionally mumbling something in her sleep and pulling you closer, snuggling against you.

“god... why the hell can't i sleep... i'm too tired to deal with this,” you sighed, rubbing your neck and opening your eyes. “i can't just lie here doing nothing... maybe i should get up and read a book in the living room, don’t want to wake my tired baby again...” you thought, carefully trying to get up. but as you moved, you realized hanni’s arm was still draped over you, holding you tight.

you blinked. “she's asleep... i’ll just move her hand aside... she's too sleepy to notice,” you thought as you slowly began to lift her arm off your shoulder. but you failed, accidentally jostling her awake.

“y/n-ah, what are you doing...” she murmured sleepily, her voice groggy with fatigue. you closed your eyes, silently cursing yourself for waking her up again. “uh, i need to pee...” you blurted out nervously, trying to come up with an excuse.

“huh... you've been to the bathroom like four times already... do you have diabetes too or something?” she muttered, slowly opening her eyes. “oh god, why did you give my baby all these problems...” she sighed, shaking her head.

you blinked in surprise. “no! i don't have diabetes! what the hell...” you exclaimed, and she chuckled softly. “then why do you keep running to the bathroom, huh?”

“okay, fine... i lied. i just... can’t sleep,” you admitted with a sigh, dropping your head back onto the pillow. “can’t sleep?” she whispered, pulling you closer. you nodded, feeling her warm breath on your neck. she sighed gently. “is there anything i can do to help you? do you want me to make you some chamomile tea, baby?” she offered, her voice filled with concern despite her own exhaustion.

“no, you should sleep,” you insisted, shaking your head. “but i can't sleep peacefully when you're struggling to sleep, baby. you're going to be exhausted tomorrow, and that's not good... just tell me if there's something i can do. i’m not going back to sleep if you don’t...” she said, softly caressing your cheek.

“i don’t know... but your voice calms me a lot... if you don’t mind... could you tell me a story?” you asked, snuggling closer to her. she hummed softly, her fingers gently brushing through your hair. “you want me to tell you a story... like a fairytale or something?” she asked quietly. you nodded against her shoulder.

“let me think of one, baby...” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as she continued to stroke your hair. “hmmm... i remember one that my grandma used to tell me when i was little...” she said, and you looked up at her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“close your eyes and just listen, okay? don’t think about anything else, just listen. it’ll help you fall asleep...” she murmured, placing gentle kisses on each of your eyelids, making you feel even calmer.

“okay, baby. i'll just listen,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. she chuckled softly, pulling you even closer. “that’s my baby,” she whispered, her voice soothing as she began her story.

“once upon a time,” she began, her fingers gently threading through your hair, “there was a princess.”

hanni closed her eyes, letting her imagination bring the story to life as she spoke, her voice a soft, soothing hum that blended with the quiet of the night.

“this princess lived in a beautiful kingdom, where everything seemed perfect and peaceful. but despite all the beauty around her, the princess felt a deep unhappiness inside.”

“why was she unhappy?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“babe, you said you wouldn't talk,” hanni teased, pausing her hand in your hair for a moment before continuing. “but well, the princess was unhappy because, although she had everything she could ever wish for, she was lonely. she had a kingdom and all the luxuries one could imagine, but she had no one to truly share them with, no one who genuinely cared for her.”

“she had her parents, of course," hanni went on, her fingers resuming their gentle, calming motion through your hair. “but it wasn't the kind of connection she was yearning for.”

she paused, her voice her voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone.

"then, one day, the princess met a knight..."

"the knight came into her life like a breath of fresh air..." hanni murmured, her voice soft and dreamlike. "he was unlike any other man in the kingdom.. he wasn't interested in her wealth or her title.. he treated her with kindness and respect.. not as a princess, but as a person.."

hanni smiled at the thought of the knight, her fingers tracing lightly along your jaw.

“the princess was captivated by this new person in her life...” she continued in a whisper, her touch tender and affectionate. “she found herself drawn to him in ways she couldn't explain.. maybe it was his courage, his loyalty, or just the way he saw her for who she truly was...”

“as time went on, the princess and the knight grew closer...” hanni said, her voice now a soft murmur, almost like a lullaby. “they spent time together, sharing their thoughts and dreams.. learning more about each other with every passing day...”

her hand moved gently down to rest on your chest, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

"as they got to know each other, the princess realized she was falling in love with the knight.." hanni whispered, her hand drifting down to rest lightly on your stomach. "he was everything she had ever dreamed of and more.. and to her surprise and delight, she discovered that he felt the same way about her.."

"time passed, and their love only grew stronger.." hanni continued, her soft, melodic voice drawing you deeper into a state of calm and peace.

"they were blissfully happy, cherishing every moment they could spend together.." she murmured, her fingers gently tracing along your skin, soothing you further.

"but the princess' parents... they didn't approve of their love.. they had other plans for her.. they wanted her to marry someone of higher rank.. someone who could bring more power and wealth to the kingdom.."

"they forbade their relationship.." hanni said, her voice tinged with a note of sorrow. "they wanted the princess to marry a suitor who would benefit the kingdom politically, not a humble knight.."

"the knight and the princess were heartbroken.." hanni whispered, her hand stilling for a moment on your hip. "they tried to reason with her parents, but it was in vain.. her parents were determined to marry her off to someone else.."

"but the knight knew he couldn't just give up.." hanni continued, her voice firmer now, filled with quiet determination. "he didn't care about status or wealth.. he loved the princess, and he was resolved to find a way to be with her.."

“so he went to the king and boldly asked for the princess's hand in marriage.. the king was furious and refused, but seeing the knight's determination, he set a challenge.. if the knight could complete three impossible tasks, then he could marry the princess,” hanni explained.

as hanni continued the story, her voice calm and soothing, you began to feel drowsy.. her storytelling was comforting, her gentle caresses on your hair making your eyelids feel heavy.

"the knight, with the unicorn's horn in his possession, presented himself before the king, having completed all three tasks.." hanni murmured, her hand now tracing soft patterns on your arm. "seeing that the knight had succeeded, the king had no choice but to honor his promise and allow the knight to marry the princess.."

"and then they live happily ever after...." you mumbled sleepily, a small smile tugging at your lips.

hanni chuckled at your sleepy comment, her hand continuing to gently run through your hair.

"yes... it's a classic fairy tale.. the knight overcomes all obstacles, wins the princess's heart, and they live happily ever after.." she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of playful amusement.

“thank you... han... for the story and for everything... i love you... so much...” you sighed, feeling yourself drifting off, the world fading away.

“anytime, my love... good night.. sweet dreams, and remember to dream of me, okay?"

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this, and i hope it brought you some joy too. thanks so much for reading, and have a wonderful day or night! :)) (i need a hanni fr...)

#new jeans x reader #newjeans #fluff #oneshot #hanni x reader #pham hanni x reader

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