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pascals-doll · 7 months

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like a virgin

joel miller x reader

🫧 inspired by madonnas like a virgin MY MADONNA CONCERT IS COMING UP I-

🫧 i always make my writings for joel so long but i love this man smm i could write all day for him it dont even b on purpose 😩

🫧 description: pre-outbreak!joel, babysitter!reader, reader babysits sarah, semi-fluff, DILF JOEL DILFFF, age gap (joel is 36 and reader is early 20s), smut smut, SMUT SMUTTT, dom!joel, softdom!joel(ugh i need so bad),sub!reader, hella praise kink, reader and joel are obessesed w each other tbh, secret crushing, body worship (reader reciving/ slight joel), pussy eating, possessive!joel, unprotected sex, p in v sex, hair pulling (j recieving), tommy is a teasing p.o.s 😭, no use of y/n, use of nicknames (sweetheart, darlin, and sweet girl).

you stepped into the miller’s residence weekly to babysit his daughter Sarah, she was the sweetest teen girl. she reminded you a bit of yourself when you were her age which was probably the cause of the instant connection.

you had been baby-sitting for almost 8 months now, leading to getting closer to Joel; Sarah’s dad.

Joel was more than a hunk of a man, he towered over you even with your heeled mary-janes at times, his broad build engulfing all his clothing making him look like a slutty construction worker with his roughed up baggy-blue jeans thats sinched around his waist perfectly.

you would be lying if you wouldn’t oogle the man while his attention was pulled onto something else. you would watch the way he talked so sweetly to Sarah, yet when it came to a phone call, his neighbor, a stranger or his brother, Tommy that would occasionally stop by.

Joel would have this assertive and unruly tone underneath that thick southern accent. he was a man that paid close attention in his life which is why he has allowed you to take care of his daughter with so much trust.

you would never know it but Joel cherished you and the things you do.

Joel would show it in very discreet ways, today was a prime a example.

“m’havin a famiy cookout later t’night, why don’t you head on home to rest, so you can come back to enjoy with us.” Joel invitied you with ease as you began to grab your belongings from his coat-rack near his front door.

you grabbed your purse, walking towards the sound of his voice which was right around the corner. Joel was standing in his wide living room.

“it would be more than my pleasure. thank you for everything again. im always very appreciative for sarah and you” you thanked him sweetly, eyes meeting his.

he stood next to his large bookcase that had an assortment of different books, personal objects, some cds/dvds, and his vinyls.

joel picked up a vinyl, sliding out of the slot in the shelving of his bookcase, pulling it out of the envelope, and placing it on the record player.

yet another instance, where you accidentally ogle him.

“the real thank you should be t’ya. im adjustin’ to single parentin’ and ya’ been very accommodatin’, thank you.”

your kind demeanor was the sweetner to his coffee.

you were now home, getting dressed to return to the Miller’s residence.

usually when you’re babysitting, you dressed lazily. you would put on a random shirt and jeans or sweats.

you wanted to cleanup a bit more, knowing it wasnt just going to be you and sarah most of the day; Joel would be there.

you threw on this cute blue floral sundress that was mid-length, it stopped right below your cross necklace.

you finished up by pairing it with white frilly socks with mid-heeled black flats.

you didn’t put much makeup on, only putting the basics before doing any last touch-ups and grabbing your black mini-purse.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

once you arrived, opening the gate and greeting a few of the people that were sitting on the porch before entering through the front door.

the sound of chatter got louder as you walked through his home. you turned around to the corner and his living room was empty but his kitchen was cluttered with different food and grill necessities.

you thought to yourself how they must be outside, you began to walk farther into his home till the back where the sliding door to his backyard was.

you began to slide the door open “oh my!! you came!” sarah squealed out of excitement, she came from restroom door next to the side of his sliding door.

you immediately engulfed the excited girl that ran into your arms “i wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl!” you exclaim while smiling.

“c’mon! my dad is outside grilling!” sarah spoke excitedly. she grabbed your hand as you opened the door and walked outside together.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

“d’ya invite that sweet babysitter of yours?” Tommy asks joel while seasoning the steak “i did, i hope she comes-you know, for sarah and all” Joel tries to play off with his words.

“oh my brother fancy’s someone, i see” Tommy chuckles out, putting his beer bottle up in the air slightly.

“i do not fuckin’fancy that young lady. she’s gone above and beyond for my daughter and i just wanted her to feel welcome” Joel explains himself, his tone laced with angry yet getting his explaination a across a bit hastily. Tommy’s eyebrow quirks.

“don’t say nothin’ else” Joel utters out in a stern tone, grabbing his cold corona as Tommy puts his hands up in defence.

Tommy turned his head, not the best decision as it made his amusement grow fonder. he turns back to Joel.

“well, ya’look at that brother” Tommy slys out, throwing a wink at his older brother before making his way back to his wife Maria.

It was you and sarah approaching, Joel actually choked on his sip of beer.

you were beautiful, Joel wasn’t an oblivious man.

Joel, himself even thought it was impressive how easily you cleaned yourself up by just some jeans and sweatshirt; at times just a shirt.

tonight was different, very different.

Joel finally has seen you outside of your different hoodies and pants.

he couldn’t begin to comprehend as you and sarah got closer and closer “Dad! she made it” sarah calls him out in excitement.

you finally approached him next to his griller which caused him to immediately snap out of his gaze.

Joel gave you his hand to shake “thank you so much for having me” you thank him, sweetly accepting as you began to shake pulling you in for a soft side hug.

you were right beside him, feeling the heat of the fire from the grill on both of you.

in Joel’s eyes, up close, your beauty was now beyond otherworldly. your light blue sundress bringing out the color of your eyes, the way your hair fell on your shoulders, and your jewlery sparkiling the tone of your skin.

you looked so elegant, yet you still managed to keep it simple. your winged liner making you look more mature than just the light mascara you would rush onto your lashes before getting out of your car on babysitting days.

Joel couldn’t begin to wrap it around his mind how you could possibly look so pure yet you were a woman. a hard-working one at that.

he knew that. it was something that made him desire you which felt so wrong.

“anytime, ya deserve to be apart of the family-shit! ya’already are” Joel goes off a bit nervously after ogling you. you gave him a soft smile.

“did’ya need help with the grill?” you quickly perk in as the fire began to sizzle a tad bit louder than usual “ah shit!” Joel exclaims, flipping each of the steak.

“careful now, brother! dont burn ‘em!” Tommy calls out, laughing with a devious smirk as he approaches again with cooler in hand.

Joel grumbled something under his under his breath as he focused on the grill.

“nice to meet you, i’ve heard s’much about you! I’m Joel’s brother, Tommy.” the younger brother introduces himself.

you give him your hand to shake “It is nice to meet the uncle tommy” you joke out causing sarah to giggle with you.

Joel couldn’t begin to explain the beauty you carried within you.

he was sure that if a god made you, it was Hestia and Aphrodite.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

the evening was pleasantly spent by you getting to meet maria and her pregnant belly, congratulating her.

then once it was time to serve the dinner, you helped Joel and Tommy by moving the grilled food off of the grill.

this consisted of Tommy making jokes that had slight insinuating under-tones that you were too naive to pick up but laugh everytime Joel would punch Tommy’s shoulder roughly, not being playful at all.

you helped bring in the food as sarah set up the dining table. once everything was set up and everyone sat down to eat, Joel’s grilling being beyond splendid.

when dinner was over while everyone cleaned up, you went to use the restroom.

you finished using up the restroom which is how you were now in Joel’s living room.

you began to admire his large bookcase from where he stood earlier to invite you.

you skimmed through, your hands softly going over the objects as you observed his books, framed pictures, his collection of dvds, and then his vinyls.

you had a record player of your own, sometimes sarah would ask you to play bon jovi and tell you where the record was.

Joel had an impressive collection, ranging to every genre of music. he had some legends on vinyls like Bob Marley, Johnny Cash, Lionel Richie, and Madonna.

you immediately picked up the Madonna vinyl, it was her second album ‘Like a Virgin’.

you grew up with your mom adoring Madonna more than anything which explains your adoration for her music.

“I was in highschool when i first heard Madonna” a deep voice spoke through the room, behind you.

you automatically knew it was Joel, turning around still looking at the tracklist on the back of his vinyl “this is my favorite album besides Like a Prayer” you say as you walk up to him, smiling.

“you weren’t even born yet” Joel laughs out causing you to jokingly get offended.

“excuse me, i know my Madonna” you joke back, giving him a playful wink which he just gave you a slight chuckle too.

“she say she know she Madonna, ay?” he gives you a slight smile, opening up his record player before inserting the vinyl.

soon enough the record player began to ring a classic 80s pop beat through the room.

you automatically felt yourself slightly popping your leg with the beat and snapling your fingers slightly.

“go ahead, Mr.80s” you state smiling, inviting him to dance “oh no, i-don’t dance” Joel quirks out awkwardly, now standing nervous.

Joel admired your confidence and comfortabilty in your skin, you were so young and full of life while also being so sophisticated and methodical.

you grab Joels hands and began to playfully sway with him.

Oh, like a virgin

Touched for the very first time

Like a virgin

When your heart beats next to mine

🫧

you sang the melodious lyrics under your breath. you felt your breath hitch as you locked eyes with joel, being in his grasp.

you could feel your body burn up in his strong hold, his heavy hand on the small of your waist.

your breath hitched causing your chest to push up against his chest. this felt so right, the way his hands held your body and each of your curves.

🫧

You're so fine, and you're mine

Make me strong, yeah, you make me bold

Oh, your love thawed out

Yeah, your love thawed out

What was scared and cold

Joel made you feel more than a woman, you were so polish and refined, yet so sophisticated and mature while all-looking ever so young and full of life.

he felt a bit of confidence which made him twirl you around, engulfing you into his embrace again with one arm; your back to his chest now.

you swore the sound of the song was slowly drowning out and now the sexual tension was ringing through the both of you.

you could feel his heartbeat thump against your back as his hands rubbed both sides of your waist to the rythem of your delicate sways.

you leaned your head back against his chest, his scent being the only thing on your mind.

you felt him begin to caress your hair with one hand as it left your waist.

“you’re s’beautiful, hope y’know that” Joel could blame it on his 5 beers but 5 beers wasn’t shit for Joel, he was very conscious of his choices.

the compliment sent shivers down your spine as you swore your knees grew limp momentarily.

you turned around, your thigh now inbetween one of his legs, chests pressed against each other, his hands gripping your hips now, and faces inches away from each other.

your lips were parted, you really were debating on kissing the beautiful hunk of a dad infront of you.

fuck it

just like that, within no time your lips were moving like you both had never kissed anyone before.

the song continuing to play as the both of you makeout in his living room while everyone was outside.

the way his hands ran through all of your body like he had never touched anyone, your lips pulling away to catch your breathe momentarily like you had never been kissed like that before.

Joel completely ravished you.

hell…now that he had you, he wasn’t gonna let go now.

“m’room darlin’” he mutters against your lips, before completely scooping you up bridal style. it caught you slightly off guard, gasping which made Joel smack your ass playfully.

“oh, aren’t you a gentleman?” you joke, your arms were wrapped around his neck.

“oh, don’t’cha worry sweetheart” Joel smirks out as you arrived to his room.

he laid you on his bed, going down with you while on top of you. he began to move his lips from kissing you to your neck, pulling down the small straps that held your dress.

each kiss that Joel placed on your body felt like a burning sensation, making your insides erupt with giddiness.

you felt like this was your first time all over again. your mind was racing, heart was nervous, and body was clamy.

and it was all because of Joel.

you weren’t sexually active at all recently, you were so busy with work, about to graduate with your masters, and even babysitting sarah; spending more time at the Millers than on dates.

you did go out but lord were the guys of this generation a bunch of sluts.

“what’s on your mind? am i doin’ somethin’ wrong?” Joel’s rushes out accidentally, not wanting to sound nervous but he did.

you weren’t only one feeling like a bad teenager doing this for the first time.

Joel smelled your perfume and that was all it took to get his mind racing. he couldn’t begin to fathom how he finally got to have you.

the way his big frame craddled yours sent him into overdrive, his heart going a million miles per minute as he tries to figure out where to even begin.

for you, it might’ve been a year but for him, it was almost like ages with the years he’s gone.

all Joel’s mind could do was think of all the things he could do to you.

“Joel-hmph” you couldnt help but whine out as his hands massaged closer and closer to your arousal.

“there there sweet girl, you ever been with a man?” Joel asks, lifting your dress up, exposing your angelic white panties.

Joel was damned forsure for the filthy thoughts you provoked out of him.

“n-no, i have never—they were idiots.” you felt so small under him, feeling overwhelmed like it was your first time all again.

at this point, you could’ve considered yourself a virgin with how Joel had you and how much of a man he was.

“you ain’t gon’go lookin’ f’someone to take care of that pretty lil’mind, not after im done with’ya.” Joel claims to you.

you believe every single word laced in his southern accent; making your cunt pulsate wantingly.

“is that what you want to do, Joel? take care of me?” you ask him, lifting your leg to spread yourself open more as you wrap it around his lower waist; basically resting on his thick thigh.

the way you looked at him through your lashes, batting them softly. it was a genuine question, laced with purity and hope.

“if you’ll allow me too-” Joel began, pulling down your panties. you expected him to unbuckle his belt next but no; he got on his knees.

your chest weighed up and down heavily, each of his touch making your body hot.

“it’s my only wish for taking care of me and sarah” Joel finishes before hooking both of your legs up onto his shoulders, his tongue wasting no time.

you didn’t even get a chance to respond, a moan erupting out of you being the only thing.

the way he ate your pussy like he didn’t just eat a whole meal downstairs had your back already arching.

Joel’s tongue swiped along all of your cunt, fucking your sweethole “jesus, ya’taste fuckin’ delicious” Joel mumbles against your pussy as his tongue quickens all along your juiced cunt.

“ahmph!” your shriek sounding like music to his ears, if he didnt have his family downstairs, he’d have you screaming.

“quiet fa’me, doll” he says, taking a hand to cover your mouth as before diving back in.

joel’s tongue fucks into your hole this time causing you to let out a muffled moan against his big hand.

the way that man was eating your pussy, tainting your pussy with his spit, marking it all as his drove you insane. there wasnt nothing this man couldn’t do.

“god! j-joel!” you muffle out, your hands go to his roughed up brown hair, pulling on it causing him to groan into your dripping pussy.

you felt yourself getting closer and closer, your pussyhole squeezing around the tip of his tongue.

“this pussy s’perfect- s’all fuckin’ mine.” Joel spits out once he pulled away from your pussy, denying you of your orgasm.

your mouth was agape in pleasure but then quickly falling into a pout “don’t worry darlin’, my baby will cum…on my dick” Joel’s voice is sweet like honey now as he leaned down to connect your lips together.

you taste yourself on his lips, mixture of his spit along his lips causing you to moan at the mix of both of your filth fogging your mind.

the way both of your lips moved in sync perfectly was beyond intoxicating for joel. he swore he could get addicted to just at the look of you but at this point, both of your lips had him drunk.

he had shimmied and kicked off his pants while making-out with you. he was completely taking over you once again, your body turning small under his big one.

“are you ready, sweetheart?” joel asks delicately, pulling away from your lips to look at your eyes.

you told him yes, leaning up to take his shirt off which he happily obliged.

you had only seen his toned arms but it was obvious he had a strong build. he might’ve not had a six-pack but lord were his muscles chiseled like a greek god.

“you gon’ drool over an old man?” joel utters out, his hand going in to caress your hair.

“oh baby, you’re beyond fine wine.” you whisper. your forehead’s connected, lips away from kissing, and looking him deep in his chocolate eyes.

Joel could feel his breath hitch at what you said, you already had him wrapped around your finger as he worshipped you.

Joel thrusted himself into you, he couldn’t even fucking believe how tight you were.

“jesus- god, this pussy s-ah fuck!” joel’s groan was almost animalistic as your mouth fell as if you wanted to scream but nothing came out.

Joel’s cock was a size you’ve never had before, it didnt hurt but oh, did it stretch.

“s’big-oh my!” you moan out loudly, eyes rolling back at the feeling of him delectably stretching your pussy out.

“you got it baby, you got it” he praises you although he was too busy trying not too pass-out because of your cunt.

after a small moment of adjusting for the both of you, he began to thrust into you at a slow pace.

you arch into him as your whimpers and soft moans turn slowly work their way up to louder and heavier moans.

joel worked himself into you, his mind not being able to get enough of all of you. he still had to process that he really had a young beautiful woman with the heart of a home in his bed.

joel completely held your body with one hand, eventually putting a hand over your mouth again once his sweet thrusts turned into pounds.

your body shaking against his with each of his rough and hard thrusts, fucking your name out of your mind and replacing it wirh his.

your muffled little cries of his name “Joel! joel-ah! j-j! j-joel!” sounding like a sweet lullaby to him. he couldn’t help but smirk at your teary eyed-self.

you werent even worried about ruining that pretty liner of yours as he fucked into you.

“shh my baby, you’re taking me so well” joel coos out, caressing you hair before leaning down to plant kisses and suck on your chest.

your hands grip his bed sheets as your body begins to shake in pure sensual bliss that joel brought you, making your mind fog up as the build up of your orgasm is almost virginal.

“ya’look so beautiful like this-” praises left joel’s lips left and right, loving and indulging in every single one of his praises as he fucked you to your orgasm so sickeningly good; leaving the both of you intoxicated.

“you was made fa’me, not no one else.” Joel’s eyes were shut now, completely lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

it was almost like a prayer, a hopeful chant, almost a possessive plead.

joel had wanted you just as much as you wanted him “yes! god yes! m’close! it’s y-yours! all yours!” your pleasure-filled babbles as your mind gets drunk of joels cock and overwhelming orgasm.

“let go, darlin’ ” Joel works you through your orgasm, hips going from pistoling into you to the delicate pace he started off with.

your entire body shook as both of your sweaty hot bodies embraced each other through both of your orgasms.

the room filled with heavy pants and moans as his hand left your mouth and began to massage your hair.

you both held each other, not wanting to let go of each other.

“i understand what madonna meant by ‘like a virgin’ now” you giggle out causing a playfully scoff to come from him.

“alright alright, we need t’get dressed and head back down. would ya’ want to stop by tomorrow after i drop sarah off at school?” joel asks, his chocolate eyes now ridden of lust and replaced with soft hope.

you were about to tell him yes but another voice spoke before you.

“are you fucking done?! fuck! i can’t keep stalling Sarah and Maria!” it was Tommy.

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princessbrunette · 4 months

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lamb!reader is rather restless.

“oh he just — that jj boy is such a character. his teasing is incessant, he picks on me constantly and he’s just so crass!” you dramatically pace around the elegantly decorated living room of your home, stomping your white mary janes across the rug.

your mother — carla limbrey sits in her chair, her crutch propped by her side as she stares exhausted into space, listening to your tireless rambles.

“so why do you spend your time with him then? why do you spend time with any of them?” she croaks slowly, clearly too tired for this conversation to begin with — her mind on more important matters.

“its just until i find my footing around the outerbanks and i can find some other friends. this jj boy is clouding my thoughts and even my prayers.”

your mother clears her throat, grabbing her crutch decidedly to leave the room to head to her office. by habit, you run to her side, helping her out of the chair as she finds her balance. before she goes to hobble away, the spindly woman turns to you, looking down at you from her stance.

“well then to me that sounds like you have a crush on him. open your eyes.” her voice carries that know-it-all quality that only mothers who know their children can possess and your face falls, a pout forming on your face as you watch her slowly but surely leave you with your own thoughts.

he bounces into the seat beside you the next day. sitting too close, arm wound around you too comfortably, smelling too much like the fresh open water he’d recently dived into headfirst. you squint, because he’d knocked you out of your thoughts and your fingers come up by habit to fiddle with your cross necklace.

“y’quiet today, little lamb. whassup?” he tilts his head and you huff.

“nothing, and you’re wet.” you shrug him off, feeling his warm damp skin leave its remanence on the back of your white dress.

“such a grump. y’know i thought you catholics were meant to be nice to everyone n’stuff. love thy neighbour…” the blonde wiggles his fingers beneath your chin and for some unknown reason you nearly let yourself smile. embarrassingly enough, jj notices this and grins himself. “t’aw, that tickle?”

“so inappropriate.” you let the smile pass through only slightly, too tired from running around with the pogues to fight it.

“yeah, you like it.” he teases, and your uppity glare returns.

“no. i don’t.” you argue, which only makes the boy laugh as you’re just too easy to wind up.

“then why’d you come here, huh? if you hate us sooo much, why are you standin’ there at the dock every day waiting for john b to roll up on his boat?” he smirks, leaning back victoriously. your mind shoots back to your mothers voice, telling you that it was likely you had a thing for jj and you audibly shake the thought off, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. when you open them once more, you’ve composed yourself.

“you’re my friends. i just wish you’d stop teasing me. i am still adjusting to the way things are around here.” you speak honestly, and jj’s icy cold heart thaws ever so slightly. maybe he was being a little difficult. for the rest of the day, he eases up — and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

it’s that same night you’re back home, stirring a tea in the kitchen when your mother hobbles in on her crutch looking tired and haggard as usual.

“its late, you should be resting.” your forehead creases as your brows furrow, glancing up from the circular motion your spoon was making.

“i was having a conversation with a historian on the porch.” she sighs as she passes through. “i believe there is something out there waiting for you to collect.” she nods before disappearing to go to her bedroom. frowning, you take your steaming tea and pad out the front door in your little night gown, hoping no one was around to see you dressed indecently. at first you see nothing, but soon your eyes focus in on something sat on the first step up to your grand wooden porch. following the item, you sit on the step — placing your tea beside you and picking up the mystery item.

in your hand sits a small fluffy lamb, a stuffed animal. she’s adorable, with big black glittering eyes and a pink ribbon fashioned around her neck in a bow. attached, a small card.

in messy scrawl, it reads:

Sorry for picking on ya

You’re pretty cool, lamb chop.

— JJ :)

maybe he wasn’t so awful after all.

#div by roseraris #friendly reminder that limbreys daughter can be adopted or by blood it doesn’t matter #jj maybank prompt #lamb!reader

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atydblack · 6 months

Text

"plaything"

james potter x reader

masterlist (requests open)

summary: you started dating james who was 3 years above you when you were in hogwarts, tensions rise when he re-introduces you to his friendship group that includes his ex girlfriend lily evans

no cws this is just pure angst/fluff

lmk what you guys think!

"You'll be fine, princess." James presses a soft kiss to your temple as you walk up to his friends flat.

Your cheeks blushed as he could clearly tell you were nervous. Of course you knew of his friendship group when you were in school, everybody did. But being 3 years younger meant that they definitely had no idea who you were.

James hadn't so much as looked at you twice at Hogwarts, but you always had a crush on him. When your paths crossed again a few months ago, it was him who had eyes for you.

"I know." You smile up at him, trying to shake your nerves. "Just promise they're not gonna hate me."

"Of course they won't hate you." He chuckles. "They have to love you because I love you."

"I love you too." You sigh, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips.

You make your way inside and into the kitchen, James quickly starts to introduce you.

"This is Sirius and Remus." He smirks, pointing at the two boys who are leaning against the kitchen counter. "And this is y/n"

Sirius immediately comes forward and gives you a tight hug, Remus soon copied his actions.

"Merlin, James how've you managed to bag that!" Sirius poked at James, causing James to swiftly shove his shoulder.

"It's nice to finally meet you, y/n." Remus smiles. "We've heard lots about you."

James guides you through to the lounge where Mary and Lily sat.

"You must be y/n!" Mary gushed, standing to her feet to give you a hug. "I'm Mary, and this is Lily." She gestured toward Lily who sat on the sofa with a smug grin.

"I'll leave you here to get to know the girls, baby."

"Baby?" Lily scoffed, making fun of James' choice of pet names.

"Oh shut up, Lil. Just because you're not getting any." James poked back, rolling his eyes. Lily sticks her middle finger up at James as he walks away.

You take a seat on the sofa and take a big gulp of the wine Sirius poured for you. Lily and Mary sat opposite and Mary quickly started quizzing you about your life.

"I can't believe we never met in school!" Mary gushes. "You were a Gryffindor too right?"

You nod, trying to hide the nervous blush reaching your cheeks.

"And you never spoke to James in school either?" Mary's eyebrows furrowed.

"Nope." You laugh softly.

"Thats kind of sweet." She smiles.

"So how young are you again?" Lily butts in.

"I'm 21."

"Godric, that's even younger than the last one." Lily scoffs, making your breath hitch in your throat. Lily had been the one you were most nervous to meet, every one knew they were an item in school.

All you did was smile in response, Mary elbowed Lily in the ribs to shut her up.

"What? It's not like he won't have a new plaything in a few months anyway." Lily whispered to Mary, but something to you she wanted to make sure you could still hear her.

You glanced over at James, he was leaning against the counter with a bottle of beer in his hands. You desperately wanted him to get you out of this conversation.

"So have you met James' parents yet?" Lily continued to quiz you.

"I-uh, not yet." You try to act interested in the conversation.

"They're so nice." She smirks. "I have lunch dates with Euphemia all the time."

Merlin she's irritating you thought to yourself as Lily stared at you with a smug look. All you could do was smile in response, unsure of what she was expecting you to say.

You take a big swig of your drink, finishing off the glass.

"I'm just gonna grab another drink." You excuse yourself, making your way over to James in the kitchen.

His eyes light up as he sees you walking towards him.

"Hi, baby." James smiles, turning away from Sirius and Remus to kiss your forehead. "How you getting on with the girls?"

"Fine." You say bluntly, not wanting to cause a scene but his eyebrows furrow instantly, he knew something was up.

"Wanna come with me outside for a smoke?" He asks and you nod.

He grabs your hand and guides you to the balcony attached to the flat, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it swiftly.

"What's up, princess?" He questions you.

"It's nothing." You sigh, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I don't care if it's nothing." James grabs your chin and turns your head so you're looking at him. "It's clearly bothering you."

"Lily has just said some... interesting things." You mumble and he immediatly rolls his eyes, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"I should have warned you about her." He laughs. "She's just a bit weird with new people joining the group... she did the same thing when Sirius brought a girl round a few weeks ago."

"But that's different." You pout. "She's your ex girlfriend."

"Yeah, from when we were 16." He chuckles. "Is my baby jealous?"

"No!" You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "She called me your plaything"

He was laughing now, making your cheeks grow red as you realised how silly it was that you were upset.

"It's not funny, Jamie." You whine. He takes one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and taking a step towards you.

"I know, I know." He grabs your face again as you lean against the wall. "You're not my plaything, you're my princess."

"Promise?" You look up at him with wide eyes.

"Promise." He presses a soft kiss to your lips and you can feel his smirk as he still clearly finds the situation amusing.

#james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter #james potter fluff #james potter angst #remus lupin x reader #marauders #sirius black x reader #marauders fluff

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babybluebex · 7 months

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i’ve had this scenario banging around in my head since the movie came out but imagine a fic where the reader has a massive crush on angus but they see him kissing elise at the christmas party 😭 like i loooveee angst and i would write this fic myself but i lost my last neuron when i fell off an electric scooter and got a concussion 😔

oh no concussion!! :( i'm so sorry about that honey, hopefully this'll make up for that!//word count: 2.1k, tw for grief/loss

You couldn't help but notice the way Angus grinned when Ms. Crane said her niece's name. It was a real smile, not the firm, thin thing that he had given you at lunch— you supposed that he hated being stuck at Barton as much as you did, maybe even hating you in the process. Being the only girl at Barton was hard, but especially at the holidays, when you really felt like your choices were the school or a fucking grave. It hurt, sure, but that smile on Angus's face hurt worse.

Elise pulled both you and Angus into the basement, where children sat, doing crafts with paste and glitter and pom-poms, and you smiled at one of the little girls, playing a popsicle stick as a little doll. You heard Angus and Elise talking to each other as they crossed the room, and you lifted your eyes to him just in time to watch him raise his arms in a silly pose and pull a goofy face. You almost started to laugh at him, as per usual when Angus was doing his antics, but Elise laughed first. Her laugh was gentle, her eyes bright, and your heart sank. She really was beautiful, and she was creative and knew whatever painting Angus was talking about. She was something that you weren't, and you sighed gently. And, based on the way that Angus reacted to her, he wanted what she had.

You took to playing with the little girls, keeping an eye out for Angus and Elise across the room. He didn't look at you one single time, keeping his gaze on her the whole time, spreading paint around the page with his long, thin fingers. You tried to distract yourself, but nothing worked, and you looked at the pair just in time to watch Elise lean over the table and press her lips to Angus's mouth.

Your heart stopped and your mouth went dry. Of course. After everything, all the time you spent with him, the tells of friendship and maybe more that was building throughout the vacation, he still chose her over you. Would anyone ever choose you? Even at your old school, you were cast aside, forgotten. You thought that there was something with Angus, little flirtations and lingering glances, you could have sworn there was something there, but apparently not. You rubbed your lips together and lowered your eyes, feeling hot tears prick to the surface, and you quickly got up from the short table and made your way upstairs. You needed the bathroom, or the kitchen, or somewhere where there wasn't other people.

Unluckily for you, as you pushed into the kitchen, you heard a shuddering sob, and you stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of Mary Lamb bent over the counter, crying. Danny, the janitor, who you had interacted with a handful of times, stood in the corner, obviously wanting to help her but not wanting to aggravate her.

"Mary?" you mumbled. "Everything okay?" Even in your upset state, you hated to see the strong and smart Mary in a bad moment. If she was crying, something was wrong.

She said nothing, drawing in a breath and weeping, and your heart clenched. You turned back out of the kitchen, going in search of Mr. Hunham, but before you could even think about his whereabouts, you collided straight into Angus's chest. "Oh, hey," he said with a crooked smile. "You disappeared really suddenly; you okay?"

Seeing his stupid smile made your tears return, and you struggled to breathe. You could worry about yourself and your complicated feelings towards Angus later; you needed to worry about Mary. "M-Mary—" you started, pointing towards the kitchen. "She's— Where's Hunham?"

"What about Mary?" Angus asked, looking past you to the swinging door of the kitchen.

"Where is Hunham?" you repeated firmly, and Angus's smile fell.

"I'll go find him," he mumbled, and you turned back to the kitchen without a word. Mary's head was hanging now, her tears dripping on the counter, and you carefully approached her. "Mary?" you started softly. "Do you want some water or something?"

Mary sniffled and shook her head, and you frowned. She obviously didn't want anything, and you took a step back as Angus and Mr. Hunham noisily bustled into the kitchen. One look at her had Hunham closing the door, and Angus stood in the corner, arms crossed, as he watched Hunham lay a hand on Mary's back.

You felt sick as you listened to her sob about her Curtis, the boy you never met but would always admire, and the group of you was quick to grab your jackets and decide to go home. You were glad; if you ever saw Elise again, you might have dropped dead. But, of course, Angus was whinging the whole walk to the car about leaving Elise behind. "I was having a good time!" he complained. "You can take Mary home and pick me up later!"

"Yeah, having a good time sucking Elise's tongue," you scoffed before you could stop yourself, and Hunham's head snapped to you with intensity.

"I can't believe you two," Hunham grunted. "This poor woman is bereft with grief—" Mary interjected that she didn't need anyone feeling sorry for her, but Hunham paid her little mind— "And all you can think about is that silly girl!"

"What did I do?" you gaped. "All I said was—"

"I heard you, miss," Hunham said. "Mary and I are going to get the car, and by the time we get back, you two had better fix whatever this is."

Your face heated up with shame and embarrassment as Mary and Hunham scuttled away, and you couldn't even bare to look at Angus. But you did, and you saw, on his pale and sharp chin, the smallest red mark, a cut, a nick from shaving. "You have a cut on your chin," you mumbled.

"I know!" Angus spat. "What's your fucking problem suddenly?"

"Hey, don't yell at me," you said quickly. "Look, I'm sorry that you're being pulled away from the love of your life or whatever, but you've got to start giving a shit about other people!"

"Like who?" Angus asked. "Like you?"

"Like Mary!" you said, even though your heart was screaming, begging for Angus to see you. For him to really see you, see through your timidness and shyness and see how badly you liked him. "Oh my God, this is her first Christmas without her son; Jesus Christ, at least act like you've got a heart inside your chest!"

"Why do you care so bad about her?" Angus asked. "And, for a matter of fact, why do you care about Elise?"

"Trust me, I couldn't give less of a shit about Elise," you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest in the cold. "But Mary, I... Fuck... My dad died in January. S'why I didn't wanna go home for the break... It would just be me and my mom, alone in our place, not being able to avoid the empty space on the couch where my dad should be. I don't know what Mary's going through, I'll never know how that feels, but... I get it. It hurts like fucking shit, and, like, you'll never understand how that feels because your parents are alive—"

"My dad's dead."

The way Angus venomously spit out his words made you feel rotted inside. "But..." you started. "I thought your dad...? Saint Kitts...?"

"That's just some rich prick my mom married," Angus said.

"So you should get it," you sighed. "The first holiday without family is hard, every day is hard, but Mary... I can't imagine how she feels, and I'm trying to be as sympathetic as possible, try to make it easier for her or something, y'know?"

Angus was quiet for a long moment, pressing the toe of his shoe into a snowy patch on the sidewalk. "I guess I like Elise because she likes me," he said softly. "S'not everyday I find someone who likes me."

"God..." you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. "Is that what that was?"

"Shut up," Angus sneered.

"Hey, easy," you said gently. "Angus, I..." You didn't know what to say to him. You had no idea how to start the conversation, let alone get to where you wanted to be quick enough— Hunham only parked around the corner, he and Mary should be coming back at any second— and you said, "Was that your first kiss? Just then, with her?"

"All-boys schools don't make it easy to find a girl to kiss," Angus mumbled.

You sighed heavily. Your eyes drifted down to a snowbank at the edge of the street, watching it glitter under the streetlamp for a moment, and, before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him and pressed your mouth to his, grabbing his upper arms to keep you upright with your shaking legs. He started for a moment, shocked and surprised, and his hands hovered above your hips, wholly unsure of how to proceed, and you broke the kiss quickly. His owlish eyes stared you down, his mouth open, but he didn't look upset.

"Say something," you whispered, and he let out a breath, the warmth of the air hitting your lips. "Fuck, please, just say something—"

He kissed you again. His hands grabbed your hips and tugged you against him, and you easily looped your arms around his neck and rose up on your tip-toes to reach his height. His lips were warm, if a little dry, and his nose bumped yours as he went to deepen the kiss, his fingers itching in the skirt of your dress. You smiled, unable to control yourself, and Angus did too, pulling away from your mouth.

"Oh," you whispered, and you smoothed your thumb across his top lip, wiping off a little bit of the rosy lipstick that you had worn to the party. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Whatever," Angus said breathlessly, his eyes soft as he gazed at you. "You taste good."

You chuckled lightly, lowering your eyes to his shoes. That shyness returned as your skin flamed, and you worried your bottom lip between your front teeth. "S-So I guess you see why I wasn't too jazzed about Elise," you said, trying to attempt a lightness in your voice.

"I'll say," Angus said. "How long have you liked me?"

"Since I met you?" you squeaked. "Since, um, I got sat in front of you in Hunham's class...? I don't know, it's dumb."

"Nuh-uh, that's not dumb," Angus said. "I've liked you for... I don't know, I guess since that first day too. We had, um, heard that a girl was coming to Barton, and I didn't really care too much, but I heard how much the other guys cared, and it... I don't know, it became a contest on how little I cared. But then I saw you... Heard you laugh... Watched you sneak a cigarette behind the bleachers during a football game..." You laughed, as did Angus, and his big hand came to cup your face, angling you to look at him. "But I think I really, really fell for you when I kissed her."

"Huh?" you asked, wrinkling your nose.

Angus rolled his eyes, obviously a little abashed by his admission. "Listen, I'm a teenage boy, it's in my nature to daydream about you," he started. "I had dreamed about what it would be like to be your boyfriend, to kiss you, to have my first kiss with you... Then, Elise kissed me, and, when I opened my eyes, I was sorta disappointed to see her and not you."

"Oh," you said softly.

"You went upstairs, and I went after you to try to talk to you about that," Angus said. "And then Mary, and... But yeah. I've just been too chickenshit to tell you before now."

"Well..." you whispered, listening to the quiet rumble of Hunham's car come from around the street corner. "Thank God for Elise."

"Don't you ever say her name again," Angus told you, and he leaned down to kiss you again. You were acutely aware of how Hunham and Mary could certainly see you two necking in the middle of the sidewalk, but you didn't care. Hunham said to work it out, and so you had.

The blaring of the old Buick's horn made Angus pull away from you, and you heard the window squeak down before Hunham shouted "Will you two quit and get inside the goddamn car?"

"Take it easy on 'em," Mary said as you slid into the backseat, followed by Angus.

"Yeah," Angus said. "Take it easy on us."

"I don't need your sass, Mr. Tully," Hunham said, glaring at you two in the rearview mirror. "Now I have to find a way to separate you two at night, no more sleeping in the same room, no more..."

You didn't care to hear Hunham's ramblings; you leaned your head on Angus's shoulder, you took his hand in yours, and you closed your eyes. Maybe the rest of break would be okay.

#bex answers #anon ask #angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers #dominic sessa

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schemmentigfs · 4 days

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Req/idea: Melissa wanting to pleasure the reader, but she’s inexperienced with women? (Talking her through it, reassurance, building trust, etc)

Her First Woman’s Touch.

Summary: Melissa goes through a difficult process of self-discovery and acceptance to learn more about intimacy between women, so she can give you pleasure during sex.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of religious trauma, internalized homophobia, a single slur, body insecurities, smoking, smut. melissa might be out of character sometimes? joe hate club

Notes: This is long, but it’s worth it. 🤍 i wrote it with so much love, so enjoy babies.

Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti wasn’t insecure and vulnerable. She always was the rock of her social circle, the unstoppable woman who could handle anything thrown at her with a steady, unflinching resolve. Her demeanor was tough, marked by a confidence that rarely wavered. But lately, a huge doubt consumed her.

After years of feeling trapped by a label that didn’t define and fit her, she finally came out as a bisexual woman. However, this new freedom came with its own uncertainties. Now, being in a stable four months relationship with you, a more younger, captivating and more experienced soul. Her heart was racing as she thought about how she wanted to please you and be sexually intimate, but her lack of experience with women made her hesitant.

The painful memories of her college years flooded her mind again and again, a time when she had yearned to explore her bisexuality but felt shackled by her upbringing. Her parents, deeply religious, had instilled in her a profound sense of guilt about any feelings that strayed from their beliefs. Melissa always watched with envy as others embraced their identities, while she remained in silence, suppressing who she was. This inner conflict persisted long after graduation, but now, as an adult, it felt heavier than ever.

The memory of her father’s harsh words cut through her like a knife. “You’re going to burn in hell, Melissa Ann!” he shouted, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. “You’re gonna be the black sheep of the Schemmentis. If you don’t stop with those stupid thoughts.” Those horrendous words, once echoing through their small, cluttered kitchen, now reverberated in her mind, haunting her even years later. “Someone corrupted you, that’s not the daughter I raised to make me and your mother proud. Non sei un fottuto frocio!”

A knot tightened in her stomach, a familiar feeling of dread and nausea creeping in as she recalled her traumatic childhood. She remembered the confusion and shame she felt, struggling to understand why she was drawn to both boys and girls. It was a realization she had kept hidden for so long, fearing the wrath and rejection of her family. Every stolen glance, every fleeting crush on a girl, had been tainted with guilt and self–recrimination.

For decades she blamed herself for not being straight. For not fitting into the strict normal mold her family expected her to follow. The fear of condemnation had forced her to hide her true self, living in a constant state of doubt. The burden of carrying her secret had made her feel isolated and alone, as if she were the only one in the world grappling with these feelings.

In her teenage years growing up in a strict devout Catholic household, Melissa would often lock herself in her bedroom, her sanctuary from the outside world, and pray. The room was small, with a crucifix hanging on the wall above her bed, and a small statue of the Virgin Mary on her simple nightstand. The faint scent of incense from morning Mass still lingered in the air. On the days when the weight of her feelings became too much, she would kneel by her bed, clasping her hands tightly together, her knuckles white with tension.

But her prayers often turned into desperate arguments with God. She’d rail against the silence that seemed to mock her suffering. In fits of anger and confusion, she would scream at the crucifix, questioning why she was cursed with desires that didn’t align with the life she had been taught to lead. Melissa was supposed to marry a good healthy man and start a family of her own, wasn’t she?

“Dear Lord, why have you condemned me to this torment?” she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. “Why have you made me this way? Why can’t you accept me for who I am? Am I so abhorrent in your sight that I must suffer endlessly? Tell me—am I so wrong, so irredeemable in your eyes?”

She paused. “And what about my feelings for both boys and girls? Is it a sin to love them both? Am I to be punished because my heart refuses to choose between them? Why must my own nature be a source of such unending pain? Why can’t you understand that my love for them is just as real, just as genuine, as any other?”

One evening, overwhelmed by the unbearable weight of her internal conflict, Melissa’s deepest frustration reached a boiling point. She hurled a wooden chair across the room, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as it crashed into the wall. The violent act seemed to punctuate her desperation, the chair’s splintering echo a stark contrast to her deep-seated pain.

“Why do you let Pa call me a dyke? Why do you let him say I’m an abomination? You know the pain it causes me! Why do you let him tear me apart inside while Ma pretends nothing’s wrong?”

Her knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor. The coldness of the tiles was a stark contrast to the feverish heat of her anger. One of the holy saints statues, a symbol of her faith, tumbled from its pedestal and shattered, its fragments scattering across the room.

The once serene face was now a mosaic of broken pieces. The porcelain, once pure and whole, now lay in shards, mirroring her own fragmented sense of self. The saint’s broken visage was a stark reminder of the purity that had been tainted by the harsh reality of her suffering.

“No! Not Saint Maria! Nonna’s favorite saint!”

The exhaustion was overwhelming. She felt her limbs growing numb and her head growing heavy. Her vision blurred, and the room spun around her. Despite her attempts to fight it, her body succumbed to the fatigue. Her breaths grew shallower as she drifted closer to unconsciousness.

As she began to lose consciousness, her lips parted, and a whisper escaped her mouth. “I’m just… a failure,” she murmured, voice barely audible. Her depressive words were a final, fragile admission of her internal turmoil. The words were soaked in the weight of her self-loathing and the pain of feeling misunderstood and rejected.

The door creaked open slightly, and Kristin Marie peeked into the old bedroom, her wide eyes searching for her older sister. She saw Melissa sprawled on the floor, her form partially obscured by the scattered shards and a amount of blood. Her innocent curiosity was momentarily replaced by concern, but the sight of her stillness made her stop.

“Sister Mel is sleepy,” she giggled, her words full of poor miscomprehension. The toddler turned to leave, deciding to give her sister the rest she seemed to need. “Play later!”

Hours later, Melissa slowly stirred, her head throbbing with a dull ache. As she tried to sit up, she felt a sticky warmth on her forehead. She reached up, her fingers coming away covered in a faint crimson. Groaning softly, she touched the spot gingerly and winced as the pain intensified.

“Son of a bitch...”

Gazing at the mess and determined to salvage what was left, she carefully gathered the shards of the broken statue, her hands shaking slightly. She meticulously cleaned the pieces, placing them in a small box as though they were precious remnants of something sacred. And pretended that nothing happened. It was now her dirty little secret.

One that Melissa would keep with her until her death.

Every family gathering, every holiday, was a reminder of how different she felt, how she didn't belong. The Schemmentis prided themselves on their strong values, and she felt like an outlier, a blemish on their perfect image. The weight of her father's words and her mother’s neglecting was a constant reminder of the expectations she could never meet the acceptance Melissa feared she would never find. The poor woman’s siblings, although supportive of their sister, stood in silence, afraid of going against their beloved ma and pa.

In the midst of this stifling environment as life continued, the older woman remained in complete denial. At work, she kept her personal life carefully hidden. Even though her closest colleagues sensed her discomfort and unease, they never pried. She wore her public mask of professionalism and cheerfulness, but beneath it, she was struggling with her own truths.

Becoming a tough woman and pretending to just be heterosexual, a role she embraced, took a significant toll on her mental being. This strength she presented to the world was both a shield and a cage. The weight to maintain this image meant suppressing her vulnerabilities and emotions, leading to a constant internal battle. Her moments of solitude were marked by a deep, unspoken sadness as she grappled with isolation.

The persona she projected often felt like a lie, one that she had to uphold despite the emotional exhaustion it caused. Her mental health suffered as she became increasingly disconnected from her true self. Not recognizing herself anymore.

Melissa’s failed marriage with Joe was a constant reminder of the life she had tried to conform to but never truly belonged to.

That seemed to change when Ava hired you as the new teacher to take third-grade class. You brought a warmth and openness that cut through the fiery redhead’s worst barriers, sparking a connection she had not anticipated. As your friendship deepened into something more, she found herself struggling with feelings she had long suppressed. Despite her growing affection for you, she hesitated to cross the line into physical intimacy.

This vulnerability and insecurity consumed her every single second. As she lay in her king-sized bed on a Friday night after a busy day at school, she couldn’t help but replay every moment of your relationship in her mind. She worried constantly about whether she was good enough for you, fearing she might be making you impatient due to her reluctance to have sex. The fear of disappointing you gnawed at her, and she found herself staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She ached with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level, to show you just how much she cared, but the uncertainty held her back.

Each night, as she lay next to you in your complex apartment, the older woman would often find herself tracing the gentle curves of your sleeping body with her fingertips, memorizing the softness of your skin under her touch. You were a source of warmth and safety, still every time she opened her mouth to voice her fears, the words lodged in her throat. It was a silent battle, one that filled her with shame and frustration. Melissa felt as if she was a stranger in her own body, struggling to reconcile her desires with her reality.

You had been nothing but patient, reassuring her multiple times that there was no rush at all, that love was about connection and trust. Even amidst your understanding, a humiliation consumed her. How could she be almost fifty four and still feel so unprepared for something natural like that? The shame burned fiercely in her chest, a constant reminder of her late blooming, leaving her wondering if she could ever truly satisfy you in the ways you deserved.

“Santo cielo. I can’t do this I fuckin’ can’t.” Melissa cursed, tears threatening to fall into her green eyes. Why was this so damn complicated? The internal struggle felt unbearable, as if a storm was about to explode inside her. It consumed her, and even surrounded by understanding, the pressure of everything was overwhelming.

Turning her head toward the mirror, she stared at her reflection. The image staring back at her was a woman trapped between two worlds. On one side was the freedom she had found in accepting her sexuality, a liberation she had long yearned for. On the other hand, the harsh reality of her insecurities loomed large, amplified by her constant comparisons to others who seemed so much more experienced and confident. The weight of her inexperience made her feel small and inadequate.

She sat up in bed, wiping at her eyes angrily. “Fuck this, Schemmenti,” she muttered. The words came out as a broken whisper, a desperate plea to herself, but the self-reproach did little to ease the turmoil inside her. The tears came anyway, hot and unchecked, as she let out a shuddering breath. She needed to find a way to talk to you, to bridge the gap that her disquiet had created. But the question remained—could she overcome her past and embrace the love she had found with you? She wanted to explore, to learn, to share everything with you, but the fear of failing paralyzed her.

“There are so many things I still don’t understand,” the redhead continued, her voice choking, as if she was waiting for someone to answer her. “So many things that I need to explore. And I keep getting lost in doubts. It’s not fair to you, baby. It’s not fair to me either.”

Melissa let out a long, weary sigh as she sank into the soft embrace of the sheets once again, curling up into a tight ball of self–deprecation. The emptiness of the bedroom started to swallow her figure, a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she used to feel. She stared at the empty space beside her, her gaze tracing the outlines of the pillow and the indentations where you lain on weekends. The walls of the room, once so familiar, now seemed cold and distant, offering little solace from the storm of emotions inside her.

Memories of happy times with you surfaced, fleeting but powerful, when she would catch you looking at her with tenderness, and such understanding, that it felt like the world stopped spinning. In those moments, her apprehension would momentarily dissipate, replaced by the warmth of your company and gaze. She remembered how you would gently reassure her, your voice a soothing balm to her restless state.

I know I’m your first woman; that means everything to me.

I’ll be gentle, just take your time. You’re safe with me.

Your reassurances helped—sometimes. When you’d say things like those, a part of her believed you, trusted in your kindness. But another part of her couldn’t stop the flood of negativity, couldn’t shut out the fear that she would disappoint you, that she was fumbling through something too precious to ruin.

You’ll never be enough for her, Melissa. You’ve never done this before. She’ll get tired of waiting for you to figure it out. You’ll embarrass yourself.

You’re fumbling, and she’s just being nice. She’s just waiting for the moment she can walk away.

You’re too old for this. You’re too slow, too clumsy. She can do better. She will do better.

“Mi dispiace amore mio, sono un codardo,” she yelled punching the mattress with her fist.

That Friday, she cried until she fell asleep. Exhausted, her salty tears wet the pillow, and silent sobs shook her body as she tried, in vain, to calm the storm of emotions built up inside her. The deep need to feel confident and equal to the love you gave her. And as a troubled sleep finally embraced her, Melissa felt a small relief. The crying, in a way, had been a step towards releasing the feelings that tormented her.

Was she really a coward that would never face her fears?

What were you doing with an old lady like her who didn’t know anything?

Wouldn’t it just be better if you left her?

Over the weekend, the older woman was relaxing on the plastic couch in her living room, a glass of red wine resting in her right hand as she puffed away at a cigarette. The soft lights created a welcoming atmosphere, and the sound of the television, playing Celebrity Jeopardy, filled the space with a comfortable familiar distraction. She was distracted, but her mind was away from the entertainment, deep in thoughts about what she had just watched and what she still needed to do. Melissa watched the show's contestants, her eyes scanning the confident faces on the screen.

She looked at her cigarette, which was almost finished, and let it go out in the ashtray. Her old cigarette addiction had become a metaphor for her deepest insecurities — a habit that was difficult to break, but one that constantly reminded her of her challenges and rage. Each ember that dimmed seemed to echo the older woman's own struggles, a poignant reminder of the destructive patterns she fought to escape. The acrid smell lingered, an olfactory ghost of her past, stubbornly clinging to her clothes and her very soul. With a heavy sigh, she flicked the ash and resolved to confront the parts of herself she had long tried to ignore.

She leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes and taking another sip of wine. The warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest, loosening some of the tension. She knew she needed to do something, to find a way to overcome her fears and insecurities. But where to start? And how to reach information? The idea of opening up about her feelings, of admitting her lack of experience, felt terrifying since she hated to show any sign of weakness.

“Maybe I should do some research?” Melissa thought aloud, the idea dawning on her slowly. It sounded ridiculous at first, but the more she considered it, the more it made sense. She had always been someone who liked to be prepared, to have all the information before making a decision. This situation was no different. If she wanted to feel more confident, she needed to educate herself.

As the edition of Celebrity Jeopardy on the TV ended, replaced by a late-night talk show, Melissa stood up and stretched, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. She walked over to the windows, looking out at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly, a reminder that the world was vast and full of possibilities. She smiled softly to herself, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

The redhead raised another cigarette to the empty room, striking a match with a soft scratch. As the flame illuminated the dark space for a moment, she took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl up around her. “To new beginnings, for me, for Y/n. To us,” she whispered, voice barely above a murmur. The words hung in the air, resonating in the quiet of the room. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and she knew doubts and fears would still linger. But it was a step in the right direction. As the TV continued to hum, Melissa felt a small flicker of hope. She might not have all the answers, but at least she was ready to start looking for them.

Over the next few days and weeks, on several sleepless nights, the teacher searched on Google. How to navigate a same-sex relationship when you’re inexperienced? she typed, pressing enter before she could second-guess herself. As the results loaded, she skimmed through the titles. There were so many women who had been in her shoes, who had felt the same insecurities and fears at one moment of their lives. With each click, she felt more intrigued and amazed as she noticed the many different options for how she could give and receive pleasure. Articles, videos, forums—an entire world unfolded before her, revealing nuances she had never considered or imagined. She read article after article, watched educational videos, and even ventured into The Womanizer and Quinn blogs where women shared their intimate experiences and advice. The sheer variety of ways to connect and pleasure each other was both overwhelming and fascinating to her.

As she read through personal stories and advice columns, Melissa felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She took notes, bookmarked pages, and even found herself blushing at some of the more detailed descriptions. It was a strange, exhilarating education that left her feeling more informed but still uncertain. The more she learned, the more she realized how much she didn't know. And as she delved deeper into this research, she began to realize that the key was not just in techniques, but in communication and emotional connection. The Sicilian woman recalled how your soft touches and kind words made her feel safe and wanted. Perhaps the most important thing would be to bring that same security and desire to both of you.

After weeks of diving into intense research, Melissa found herself at a crossroad. Each day spent pouring over books, articles, and seeking advice had only heightened her awareness of her inexperience. The redhead made a heartfelt promise to herself, one that resonated deeply within her. She resolved that rather than allowing her fears and uncertainties to overshadow her, she would harness the insights she had gained to fortify the bond between you. This wasn’t just about confronting her own apprehensions; it was about opening her heart fully and trusting you in ways she had never allowed herself before.

She envisioned a future where both of you could explore and embrace the full spectrum of love and connection. Melissa understood that the path ahead would not be without its challenges. It would require patience, understanding, and a willingness to be vulnerable. Although, she was committed to embarking on this journey with you. She was prepared to face her worst fears head-on and let the promise of love and trust guide her.

—

“C’mon. It shouldn’t be that hard, stop being a pussy.” The redhead huffed, walking through the busy streets and holding a small pamphlet with an address on it. Pushing herself forward. The words were meant to be a pep talk, but they came out more as a grumble. Dressed in a black leather jacket, her left hand buried deep in her pocket gripping her keys so tightly that the cold metal dug into her palm. While the right clutched the paper, she cut a confident figure. But inside, she felt like a terrified kid again.

On this afternoon, Melissa found herself standing outside a cozy queer café in Philadelphia. The establishment’s large windows framed a warm, inviting interior filled with plush armchairs, bookshelves, vases of plants and soft lighting. A sign with an impeccable handwriting on the door read Sapphic Women’s Discussion Group. All Welcome! The vibrant façade, adorned with rainbow flags and welcoming posters promoting LGBTQ+ events, felt inviting and intimidating.

She was resting on the door handle. The intrusive thought of turning around, retreating to the safety of her car, and forgetting this whole idea crossed her mind. For years, Melissa had thought about walking into a place like this, spaces that welcomed women like her, women who loved other women—but she never imagined she’d actually do it. Not at her age, not after a life of silence and denial.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloping her.

“Here goes nothin’,” The Italian redhead said with a hint of sarcasm, her South Philly accent wry and unmistakable. “I swear if anyone makes funny of me, I’ll fucking ran away–”

Inside, the atmosphere was lively but casual. Women of various ages and backgrounds were seated at tables, engaged in conversations. Laughter and the hum of voices filled the air, creating a sense of community and belonging. The older woman spotted a table in the corner with a small group of women and made her way over, hoping to blend in while still taking in the atmosphere and aura. The table she chose was adorned with a simple centerpiece of fresh flowers, next to a hand-drawn menu filled with witty drink names like Sappho’s Latte and Audre’s Espresso.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, her voice betraying just a hint of nervousness.

They nodded, murmuring polite welcomes, and she sat down, smoothing her jacket out of habit. Just as she was settling in, a woman in her mid-thirties approached, a friendly smile lighting up her face. She had short, dark hair that fell naturally across her forehead, and her denim jacket was covered with pins advocating for various causes—pride flags, feminist slogans, and more. There was something about her presence that radiated both strength and warmth, an unspoken understanding in her eyes that seemed to invite openness.

“Hey, you’re new here, right? I’m Jules. Can I join you?”

She managed a small, nervous smile and shifted her gaze downward, politely giving her a clumsy handshake. “Sure, it’s my first time being here. I’m Melissa.”

Jules took a seat and leaned back, her presence somehow instantly putting her at ease. “So, what brings you here today?”

Melissa took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy to open up about something so personal, especially to a place full of strangers, but something about the atmosphere in the shop made her feel safe enough to try.

“Recently, I came out as bisexual,” the older woman began, trembling. “It took me years to figure it out...or maybe I knew all along, but I was just too scared to accept it because of, you know... religious guilt and family trauma.”

“That’s a huge step, Mel. Coming out, especially after carrying something like that for so long... It’s not easy. You’re brave for even being here.”

Encouraged by understanding, she continued, though her words still came out haltingly. “I.. I’m in a relationship now, with a younger woman. She’s amazing, and I really care about her. But I’ve never been intimate with a woman before, and I... I’m so scared. I want to pleasure her, make her feel good, but I don’t know where to start. I was afraid to come here and open up about this. I thought... I thought people might laugh at me or think I’m not ‘really’ bi because I’ve never done it before.”

Jules reached across the table and placed her hand on Melissa’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat. “You’re definitely not alone in feeling that way. A lot of us have been where you are now. It’s completely normal to feel nervous, especially when it’s all so new. But what’s important is that you’re here, willing to learn and grow.”

The green eyed woman felt a lump forming in her throat.

“I was married too," she confessed, tinged with bitterness and pain. “My ex-husband, Joe… he was a dickhead. He was always drunk, and he cheated on me more times than I can count. I stayed with him ‘cause I thought it was the ‘right’ thing to do, you know? Because of my family, because of my faith… But it was killing me inside. I was miserable, and it took me a long time to realize that I deserved better.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” the youngest said sincerely. "No one deserves to be treated that way. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

As they spoke, Jules gave a subtle signal to a few women seated nearby. One by one, they began to gather around, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. They formed a small semicircle, their presence a quiet testament to the power of community. Each woman seemed to carry her own story, her own struggles and triumphs, but there was no judgment here—only acceptance.

One of the women, a young woman with thoughtful eyes, spoke up first. “You know, sometimes the most important thing is to listen and learn without rushing. Every relationship is different. What works for one couple might not work for another.”

Another woman, slightly older, nodded in agreement. “And balancing personal space with intimacy is key. You have to be able to communicate openly about your needs and boundaries.”

Melissa nodded, absorbing their words like a sponge. The advice was practical, yes, but it was the honesty and openness in their voices that struck her most. They weren’t just talking at her—they were sharing pieces of themselves.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally between experiences of first loves, heartbreaks, and everything in between. They discussed how vital it was to take things slow, to be attuned to each other’s needs, to ask questions, and most of all, to approach intimacy with openness and care. Each woman offered something unique, from personal tips to deeply felt wisdom, and by the time the gathering wound down, Melissa felt an overwhelming sense of relief and empowerment.

As the women began to disperse, exchanging hugs and goodbyes, Melissa stood up from the table, feeling lighter than when she had walked in. Jules caught her eye one last time, giving her a reassuring nod.

“You’ve got this, Mel. Just remember to trust yourself, okay?”

She smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across her face for the first time that evening. “Thank you… really.”

As she stepped outside, the sun still hung low in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. For the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful. She wasn’t just carrying the weight of her past anymore—she was moving forward, armed with the knowledge, support, and confidence she’d gained from this little café and the women who had opened their hearts to her.

Melissa was ready to take the next steps in your relationship.

—

Wednesday was different for Melissa. From the moment she woke up, she could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on her chest. After dropping her second graders—whom she affectionately called her “little eagles”—off at the gym for physical education, her day should have felt like any other. But instead, her mind raced, a nervous buzz thrumming beneath her skin. She spent the rest of the morning mentally rehearsing what she planned to say, her palms growing sweaty each time she replayed the words in her head.

By the time the lunch bell rang, her resolve had formed, but her body still trembled as she made her way to the cafeteria. She spotted you immediately, seated at a table with Jacob and Janine. The three of you were deep in discussion, laughing about the success of the recent library program project. The sound of your laughter, bright and carefree, made Melissa’s heart flutter. It grounded her, reminding her of why she wanted to do this in the first place.

But as she approached, her heart raced, and the familiar anxiety crept back in. What if she said the wrong thing? What if you didn’t want the same things she did? She had planned something special for the two of you tonight, something that would show you just how much she cared. She just hoped she wouldn’t trip over now that she was so close to making it real.

You were in the middle of recounting a funny story about one of your students when your gaze shifted, and you saw her walking toward the table. Instantly, your surroundings blurred; the laughter and conversation between Jacob and Janine faded into a distant hum as your focus zeroed in on her. Melissa wasn’t often nervous, but there was something in the way she carried herself now—vulnerable yet brave—that made your heart swell with affection.

She hesitated for a moment, standing a few feet away. Her green eyes flicked to the floor as though she was searching for the right words. Her hands, you noticed, were fidgeting at the hem of her blouse, tracing the fabric as if seeking comfort. She drew in a breath before speaking, her voice soft but laced with determination.

“I, um… I planned a romantic dinner for us tonight.” She was cautious, almost tentative. “Would you be able to come over to my place at seven, hon?”

Your heart warmed at her nervousness, and you gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Of course, babe. I’d love to.” The tenderness in your tone seemed to ease her tension, and you couldn’t help but add. “Do you want me to bring anything? A bottle of your favorite white wine or—”

“No, just you and your beautiful body,” The second the words left her lips, her face flushed a deep, fiery red, the color climbing up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide in shock at her own boldness. It was as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just said, and the mortification was clear in the way her shoulders tensed. “Oh?”

Jacob and Janine, who had been standing just far enough away to give you both some privacy, exchanged a quick glance. Janine, ever the romantic, stifled a squeal of excitement, biting her hand to keep from bursting into giddy laughter. Jacob, always the supportive friend, gave Melissa a discreet thumbs-up, mouthing.“You’ve got this. Just breathe, Mel Mel.” Their silent gestures of support didn’t go unnoticed by Melissa, and despite the fiery embarrassment burning in her cheeks, she felt a rush of warmth and gratitude.

You, too, caught the brief exchange between your friends and chuckled, though your gaze quickly returned to Melissa. There was no mistaking the anxiety in her posture, but beyond that, you could see the flicker of something else—determination, excitement, maybe even hope. She was putting herself out there, more than she usually allowed herself to, and that touched you deeply.

Just me and my body, huh?” you teased gently. “That’s quite the invitation, Schemmenti. What’s the occasion?”

Melissa’s face, already flushed, deepened into an even darker shade of red, but there was a spark in her eyes now, a glimmer of resolve. She was nervous, yes, but she had made her decision. “I just thought it was time to switch things up a bit,” she replied, her voice steadier than before, though still laced with vulnerability. “You know, take a leap and maybe… celebrate us.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn’t just about a dinner; this was about moving forward, about her desire to deepen your relationship. You could see how much this moment mattered to her—the courage it took to say those words, to open herself up to the possibility of rejection, even if that fear was unfounded. You stood up and closed the distance between you. Without hesitation, you wrapped her in a tender hug, your arms encircling her in a protective embrace.

She stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection, especially in such a public setting. But as soon as she felt your warmth enveloping her, she relaxed, melting into your arms as if this was exactly where she was meant to be. The proximity, the way you held her so tightly yet so gently, made her realize how deeply she needed this, needed you.

“Baby, that sounds perfect,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against her ear. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

Melissa’s hold on you tightened as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, the anxiety that had gnawed at her all day slowly ebbing away. She pressed a soft kiss to your hair, the gesture filled with such tenderness it made your heart ache. With your bodies pressed together, she could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against hers, the calming syncopation reminding her that she was exactly where she belonged.

As you held her, you caught a glimpse of Janine and Jacob, who were watching from a distance with proud smiles. Janine gave Jacob a giddy nudge, her spirit high and full of excitement for you both. Even Mr. Johnson, who was still sweeping the cafeteria floor nearby, muttered something about “first love making messes,” though there was a small, almost imperceptible grin on his face.

Eventually, you pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands resting on her arms. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” you asked, with playful curiosity. “I’m guessing it’s not just spaghetti and meatballs.”

Melissa’s lips twitched, the nervousness in her eyes slowly giving way to something warmer, more confident. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she said, her voice teasing now. “But I can promise you, it’s going to be unforgettable.”

You grinned at her, the excitement for tonight bubbling up in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As you stepped back and returned to your spot, Melissa lingered for a moment, watching you with a cute, almost dreamy expression on her face. The weight of the day’s nerves had finally lifted, replaced by a sense of joy and anticipation. With one last glance at you, she turned and headed back to her classroom, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months.

“You two are seriously the cutest couple ever,” Janine gushed, nudging you with her elbow as she sat back down.

Jacob nodded in agreement, a small, knowing smirk on his face. “She’s a lucky woman.”

You felt your face flush with warmth as you beamed softly, your thoughts already drifting to the evening ahead. “I’m the lucky one,” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.

—

The soft glow of candles flickered across the kitchen, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls. Melissa had taken great care to set the table just right. The white linen tablecloth was smooth and immaculate, the polished silverware gleamed under the dim light, and delicate crystal glasses sparkled like tiny stars. A simple yet elegant centerpiece—a vase filled with fresh roses—added a touch of romance, their soft petals a gentle reminder of the evening’s purpose.

After a quick shower, Melissa stood in front of her bathroom mirror, wrapped in a thick towel as her reflection stared back at her. She untangled her hair with her fingers, letting the soft waves settle naturally around her shoulders. The evening felt charged with meaning, and as she pulled on a deep green dress that highlighted the rich color of her eyes, she couldn’t shake a sense of anticipation that made her fingers tremble. But before she slipped into the dress, Melissa lingered in her reflection, standing there in her bra and underwear.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the delicate lace of her bra before trailing up to her cross necklace. The small, familiar weight of it rested against her skin, a reminder of her faith and the strength she often sought from it. She gently kissed the cross, her lips touching the cool metal, as if grounding herself. Closing her eyes for a moment, she whispered, “I’ll be okay.” Her voice was steady, a quiet promise to herself. When she opened her eyes again, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was ready—nervous, yes, but there was an undeniable sense of purpose in the evening that outweighed her fears.

The act of kissing her necklace and reminding herself that she would be okay brought a small but real sense of calm. She unclenched her jaw, letting herself breathe before stepping away from the mirror to pull on the deep green dress she had picked out.

Slipping into the dress, Melissa took one last look at herself, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps. It wasn’t an extravagant gown—just a simple dress that made her feel beautiful in a way that mattered most to her. It hugged her curves in all the right places, the fabric complementing her fiery red hair and highlighting the vibrancy of her eyes. She added a light touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her natural features, before stepping back to admire the final result. A moment of calm settled over her, the flicker of nerves tempered by the reassurance she had given herself.

The house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of lasagna, garlic, tomatoes, and bubbling cheese coming together in the oven. The familiar, comforting smells filled every corner of the room, making it feel warm, welcoming. Melissa stepped into the kitchen, checking on the lasagna and adjusting the heat, ensuring everything was perfect. The faint sound of the record player drifted in from the living room, where a playlist of your favorite songs played softly, romantic melodies filling the air with warmth and intimacy. Everything was set, and now, all she needed was for you to arrive.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet with a soft chime, and Melissa’s heart skipped a beat. She stood still for a moment, gathering her courage. This evening wasn’t just about the food or the setting—it was about the leap she was taking, the love she wanted to show you. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her dress once more and made her way to the door. As her hand reached for the doorknob, she murmured to herself, “I’ll be okay,” one last time, her fingers briefly touching the cross around her neck.

When she opened the door and saw you standing there, her nerves melted away at the sight of your smile. You looked at her, taking in the beautiful green dress, her soft waves of hair, and the way her eyes shone with a mixture of happiness and vulnerability. There was a beat of silence, the world falling away for a moment as you exchanged a quiet, meaningful look.

“Hey, babe,” you said warmly, stepping forward and pulling her into a gentle hug. You could feel the slight tremble in her body as she relaxed into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as if she had been waiting for this all day.

“Hey, mia principessa,” she whispered back softly, but there was a strength in it. You could sense how much this night meant to her, how much she wanted it to be special. “Come in. I’ve got everything ready.”

The smell of lasagna welcomed you as you stepped into the cozy warmth of her home. You glanced around, admiring the thoughtful touches—the candlelit table, the vase of roses, the soft music filling the space. It was intimate, and it spoke volumes about the care she had put into this night.

“Lissa, this is beautiful,” you said, turning back to her. “You did all of this?”

Melissa smiled, the nervous energy that had been building inside her easing just a little at your reaction. “Yeah, I wanted to do something special for us.”

You reached out, taking her hand and giving it a gentle peck. “It’s perfect.”

For the first time that evening, your girlfriend felt a deep sense of calm.

You followed Melissa to the dining table, where the soft glow of the candles illuminated the spread before you. The lasagna sat perfectly golden in its dish, steam rising from the surface, and the fresh roses at the center of the table filled the air with their delicate scent. She pulled out a chair for you, her hand brushing against your shoulder as you sat down.

The older woman served the lasagna with careful hands, the utensils clinking against the plates as she handed you your portion. As you took your first bite, the rich flavors of garlic, tomato, and cheese filled your mouth, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second to savor it.

“This is delicious, Mel,” you said, smiling up at her as you set your fork down.

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied sweetly, still carrying that undercurrent of vulnerability that made your heart swell with affection. You could see how much she wanted tonight to be perfect, and it already was. The evening felt like a beautiful, slow unfolding of something deeper, something you both had been moving toward for a long time.

For a while, you ate in companionable silence, the music playing in the background as the evening settled into a comfortable rhythm. Melissa stole glances at you as you ate, and each time your eyes met, she smiled a little more freely. But there was something else too—an sexual tension hanging in the air between you, unspoken but unmistakable. It made every touch and every shared look feel heavier, more charged.

After a while, Melissa set her fork down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her wine glass as she spoke, quieter now. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while…” Her eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the seriousness in them.

You frowned, sensing the shift in the conversation. “What is it?”

“I’ve been… I’ve been wanting to take the next step with us. I’m ready. For sex.”

The weight of her confession settled between you, and for a second, it felt like the world outside this moment ceased to exist. Your heart skipped a beat, the meaning behind her words sinking in. You knew how much this meant to her, how deeply she felt things, and how careful she was with every step in your relationship. And now, here she was, opening herself up, offering all of her to you in the most vulnerable way possible.

You reached across the table, your fingers finding hers, and she held onto you like she’d been waiting for this connection all night. “Mel,” you began. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. I’m here. I’ll always wait for you.”

A soft laugh touched her lips, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she held your gaze. “I know,” she whispered, and then, as if the moment couldn’t hold itself back any longer, she leaned across the table and kissed you. Her lips were soft, warm, and full of promise. The kiss started gentle, but there was a sense of urgency behind it, a need she had been holding back for too long.

You stood up, gently pulling her with you, and without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her arms around your waist. The closeness felt intoxicating, the room spinning with the scent of roses, the warmth of the candlelight, and the taste of wine still on her lips.

Melissa pulled back slightly. “Come upstairs with me.”

You nodded, unable to speak, the weight of the moment settling in your chest. With her hand in yours, she led you out of the dining room and up the stairs, her grip firm but trembling ever so slightly. The steps felt endless, each one echoing the rapid beating of your heart, but when you reached the bedroom door, everything else faded away. It was just you and her, the world quiet and still, as if this moment had been waiting for you both for a long time.

After going upstairs hand in hand, you enter her bedroom. The environment is spacious and welcoming, with a palette of neutral tones that creates a soft and intimate atmosphere. The walls are painted a light, almost sandy beige, and there are several old photo frames hanging in an elegant pattern. The floor is covered in a large, shaggy rug in a soft brown tone that provides a pleasant contrast to the dark wooden floor.

The center of the room is dominated by a king size bed, covered with sheets and bedding set in beige tones. The pillows and duvet combine in different textures and subtle patterns, creating a feeling of comfort and simplicity.

You lay down on the bed, messing up the bedding set and pillowcases that were still fresh and spotless. Melissa sat on top of you, with her knees on either side of your hips, and began to unbutton the elegant blouse you were wearing. Her movement was careful, almost reverent, as if each blossoming bud revealed not just your skin, but also the vulnerability and trust you were building together.

“I’ve never looked like that,” she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your own in a long kiss that was both hesitant and eager. As her mouth lingered on yours, she noticed the way you slightly shudder beneath her touch, a clear sign of your nervousness. And how anxious you seemed, more so than she felt herself. “You’re trembling.”

Melissa reaches for the lamp, her digits brushing against its switch as she considers dimming the light to make the room more comfortable and less intimidating. But before she can, you reach out to stop her, grabbing her wrist feeling the subtle pulse of her beat beneath your touch.

“No, I want to see you too,” you peel off your blouse, followed by your pants and underwear, letting them fall to the floor in a silent haze.

The older woman gulps and bobs her throat and starts to undress too. Her long green dress fell away in soft folds to the edge of the king size bed, followed by the delicate unfastening of her bra, revealing her full, supple and delicious boobs. Their natural weight makes them sway slightly and her nipples, a dusky rose, stood erect in the cool air. Her panties followed, slipping down her legs to reveal her glistening, damp center with some reddish, slightly trimmed pubic hair above her mound that was a stark contrast to the smooth milky white of her thighs.

For a fleeting second, doubt and insecurity crept in. She wondered if you saw her as beautiful or if the passage of time, with its subtle marks on her skin—fine lines around her eyes and mouth, the gentle curve of age. Arms flaccid and a little droopy, and the fact that she is not completely shaved underneath—might be off-putting. The decades that had shaped her were etched into her form, a testament to experiences and moments lived, but she questioned if they would overshadow the intimacy of the present.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the side, overwhelmed by the thought of you finding her less than desirable, maybe even disgusting like Joe did when they used to have sex in their marriage years. The idea of her imperfections being too much to bear made her shiver with apprehension, and unexpected tears dropped into her cheeks as those thoughts almost brought her to the brink of crying.

In that vulnerable instant, Melissa searched for any sign of disapproval, any hint that the years might have dimmed her allure. But as your gaze locked with hers, she saw something entirely different—an intense, unspoken admiration, a hunger that seemed to pierce through her insecurities. This recognition of her allure gave her the courage to continue.

“You’re so beautiful, bambina.” She tilted her head, her swollen lips meeting yours again in a passionate kiss that deepened as she felt your response. Your hands roamed over her back, feeling the heat of her skin and the subtle firmness of her muscles. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders, cascading like a dark waterfall that framed her face and partially covered her chest. The sight of her, disheveled and beautiful, made you catch your oxygen.

Melissa lets her thumbs glide down your abdomen, feeling the softness of your flesh beneath her fingertips while she trails imaginary patterns. That only she can see. She squeezes your breasts gently before she leans in to nip at your earlobe. There’s a hunger in the way she worships you, a need to feel you, to taste you.

She begins to kiss her way down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When she reaches your boobs, she pauses for a moment, her breath ghosting over your nipples before she takes one into her mouth slowly. The feeling sends a shiver down your body, and you can’t help the loud whimper that escapes your lips.

“That feels so good. Don’t stop. Suck harder,” you gasped, unable to contain the fervent need building inside you.

The redhead hums in response, her gaze locked onto yours as she continues to suckle on your hardened peak. There’s something almost reverent in the way she’s looking at you, as though she’s in awe of the effect she’s having on you. Her hair, now tousled and wild, brushed against your skin like a silken curtain. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of her lips on your sensitive areas, and opened your mouth to draw in deep, steady breaths, trying to ground yourself amidst the swirling sensations.

She traces a slow, deliberate path down your body, her lips grazing the curve of your waist, until she’s almost between your legs. Her hands rest on your thighs, gently urging them apart, and you feel the smirk ghosting over your most intimate area. When she parted your legs, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of your wetness dripping down and the intoxicating smell that made her drool.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Please.”

Melissa’s hands move to your hips, and with a deliberate, almost possessive grip, she pushes you down against the mattress, pinning you in place. The bed creaks softly beneath you, but all you can focus on is the way her mouth hovers just above your aching pussy.

She lowers herself between your thighs, her breath hot against your skin as she leans in, her mouth finally making contact. The first contact of her tongue against your wet folds is electrifying, a shiver running down your spine. She’s never felt anything like this—so raw, so intimate. The sensation of your taste, warm and sweet on her tongue, ignites something deep within her.

The older woman begins to lick through your wetness, her movements grow more confident, more assured. Her face becomes slick with your arousal, but she doesn’t care—if anything, it only drives her to delve deeper, to explore every inch of you with her warm mouth. The soft slurping and suckling sounds she makes while she eats you out, along with guttural groans of satisfaction vibrating against your most sensitive spots muffled against your folds, tell you everything; how much Melissa is enjoying this. Amplifying the pleasure coursing through you. And you can’t help but moan, your fingers tangling in her hair, urging her closer.

“Oh, Lissa…go faster,” you murmur breathy, trying to guide her with gentle encouragement. “Just like that, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She’s teasing your clit now, her tongue flicking over it teasing it with featherlight strokes that makes your hips buck involuntarily. She seems to be memorizing, learning and responding to your every movement, every sound. You can feel her fingers hovering at your entrance, the pads of her tips brushing teasingly against your folds. The need for more—more of her, more of everything—builds inside you like a tidal wave.

“Fingers. Use them to fill me up.”

Two fingers slide inside you easily, the heat and slickness enveloping her in a way that makes her gasp. The knowledge that she’s the one making you feel this way, that she’s the cause of your pleasure, is almost overwhelming for her. She starts to pump her fingers, slow and deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, hon,” Melissa groans. “You’re so tight… so fucking good.”

“Mhhm.”

The older woman intensifies her pace, her fingers moving faster, deeper, her thumb circling your clit in slow, lazy circles. Her brow furrows in concentration as she continues.

The pressure builds rapidly, and your hips buck against her hand, your need growing more urgent with every passing second. Her eyes stay locked on your face, absorbing each scream and tremor that escapes you, her lips parting slightly as she watches your pleasure build.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, never letting up the pace. “Are you close?”

Your breath catches, the coil tightening inside you. “I’m so so close, please let me come,” you beg, your voice trembling as you ride the edge.

A flicker of confidence crosses her face as she leans closer, her thumb pressing harder against your clit, her fingers driving deeper. “Cum for me,” she whispers, laced with longing. “I want to feel you, pretty girl.”

That command, spoken so softly but filled with intent, sends you spiraling. With a final, perfect stroke, you fall over the edge, your body arching as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave. Your whines grow louder, desperate, as Melissa guides you through the bliss.

She keeps going, drawing out every shudder and whimper until you’re completely undone beneath her. Only then does she slowly withdraw her fingers, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Collapsing against you, her face finds the crook of your neck, her figure trembling with emotion. It takes a moment to realize she’s crying, low sobs muffled against you.

“I did it?” she breaks in disbelief. “I made you feel good… I can’t believe I did it.”

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. “You did, baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You were perfect.”

Melissa shakes her head slightly, still clinging to you. “I was so scared I’d mess it up… but I did it.”

You gently lift her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her emerald eyes are red and glistening with tears, but the satisfaction you see there only makes your love for her grow stronger. You cup her face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

She lets out a shaky breath, her curvaceous body leaning into yours as if seeking reassurance. Her pink lips brush over yours in a tender, almost desperate kiss. Between soft pecks, you speak against her lips, “You’re safe. I love you. You're safe with me.”

She gives you a small, tearful smile before pressing kisses to your chest, resting her head there as if she never wants to let go.

And you don’t want her to. Not ever.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary #wlw #wlw smut #yes #that was a carol (2015) reference

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thatdammchickennugget · 1 day

Text

One Of The Guys

pairing -james potter x fem!reader

summary - you have always been one of the guys, but what if you don't want to be anymore?

warnings - insecure reader, some teasing, fluff, gryffindor!reader

wordcount - 2.4k

a/n - first fic in months and the anxiety posting this is higher than ever! hope you like!

You’d always been one of the guys. Since first year, when you’d been sorted into Gryffindor with Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter, it just made sense. You spent your days causing trouble with them, sneaking into the kitchens for midnight snacks, planning pranks, and laughing at inside jokes only you lot seemed to understand. You were as much a Marauder as any of them, and you wore that title like a badge of honor.

In some ways, being "one of the guys" had always felt natural. You were never the girl who fussed with her hair, never bothered with makeup or cared much about fashion. While the other girls in your year experimented with nail polish and tried different spells to make their hair curl just right, you’d been happier wearing trousers and comfortable jumpers, getting dirt on your shoes as you kicked a ball around with the boys or plotted another prank.

The boys never treated you any differently. You were as rough and tumble as they were, always up for an adventure or a laugh, whether it was dueling in the corridors, sneaking out under the Invisibility Cloak, or hanging around the Quidditch pitch, watching James practice his broom skills while you tossed playful insults his way. They teased you, sure, but it was never about your appearance. It was always about how you accidentally hexed Sirius’s hair to turn pink that one time or how Remus beat you at Wizard’s Chess two weeks in a row.

But lately, something had started to shift. You’d been spending more time with the girls—Marlene, Lily, Alice, and Mary. It wasn’t like you abandoned your usual activities with the boys, but something about hanging out with the girls had made you realize that maybe you’d been missing out on a whole other side of yourself. They weren’t as concerned with pranks or causing trouble, but they had their own kind of fun—painting nails, talking about what charms they used to keep their hair shiny, and swapping makeup tips. At first, it had all seemed foreign to you, like you didn’t belong. But, bit by bit, you began to get into it. And even though it was obvious you were out of your element, they never made you feel left out because of it.

It started small. A dab of lip gloss here, a charm to make your hair lie flat there. Nothing too crazy. You didn’t want to completely abandon who you were. But when Marlene offered to paint your nails a deep, shimmery red one afternoon, you figured why not? It was fun, in a way you hadn’t expected.

The girls never treated you like you needed to change, and that made it easier. They were all for letting you do your own thing, and whenever you felt out of place, they’d remind you that it was about what made you feel good, not about impressing anyone else.

Still, there was one person’s opinion you couldn’t quite shake.

James Potter.

You weren’t sure when it had started, this nagging crush you had on him. Maybe it had always been there, buried under layers of friendship and pranks. But recently, every time he smiled at you with that lopsided grin of his, something inside you flipped. Every time his hand brushed yours when you reached for something at the same time, your heart would race a little faster. He’d never looked at you like he looked at the girls who swooned over him—like you were someone to notice beyond just being “one of the guys.”

And you hated how much that bothered you.

It wasn’t like you wanted to change for him. But some part of you wondered if he’d ever see you differently if you weren’t always running around in jeans and messy ponytails.

So, that Saturday morning, when you slipped on the dress Lily had convinced you to buy during one of your Hogsmeade trips, you felt like a fish out of water. It wasn’t anything too fancy—just a simple green dress that hugged your frame in a way your usual clothes never did. You’d even put a little effort into your hair, letting it fall loose around your shoulders instead of shoving it into a messy bun like you normally did. Your nails were still painted red from the other night, and you’d borrowed a light bit of makeup from Mary, who had smiled and assured you it wasn’t “too much.”

But as you stood in front of the mirror, you hardly recognized yourself. The tomboy in you felt like you were playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes. It was so far from your usual style that you couldn’t help but wonder if you were making a mistake.

Still, part of you wanted to try it out—to see if maybe, James would look at you differently today. Maybe he’d see something more than the girl who could throw a punch as good as Sirius or outrun Peter when Filch caught you roaming the halls after curfew.

You took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of the dress one last time before heading down to the common room.

ੈ♡˳

When you reached the common room, you were immediately met with the sight of the boys lounging around like usual. James and Sirius were in the middle of some animated conversation while Remus read a book nearby, and Peter was munching on something from the kitchens. None of them had noticed you yet, which only made the nerves bubbling in your stomach worse.

It was Sirius who spotted you first. He turned to call for James, but his words faltered when his eyes landed on you. His mouth fell open slightly, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, standing up from the couch with a mock bow. "What do we have here? Y/N, in a dress? I never thought I’d see the day."

The others looked up at his words, their eyes finding you in an instant. You tried to smile, but the way their gazes seemed to linger made you want to shrink into the floor.

James was staring at you, his expression unreadable. His warm eyes widened just a fraction, his usual cheeky grin faltering as his gaze swept over you. But before you could figure out what that look meant, Sirius spoke up again.

"Blimey, didn’t know you owned anything besides jeans and jumpers," Sirius teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You sure you’re feeling alright?"

You forced a laugh, trying to shrug off the growing discomfort. “Yeah, just, uh, thought I’d try something new.”

Remus closed his book and smiled at you warmly. “You look nice,” he said, his tone sincere but still carrying a hint of playfulness.

But Peter, never one to read the room right, piped up from the couch. “Who knew you could look like a girl?” he said with a chuckle, and Sirius howled with laughter, clearly finding the whole thing hilarious.

James finally spoke up, his voice quieter than usual. "You do look nice, Y/N," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. But his tone—sincere as it was—couldn’t erase the sting of the teasing from the others.

You laughed along with them, but inside, the knot of unease tightened. You weren’t mad at them; you knew they didn’t mean to hurt you. But every comment, every joke, made you feel more and more like an imposter in your own skin. Like you weren’t really supposed to be this person, this version of you that wore dresses and makeup and tried to be something more than “one of the guys.”

"I—I’m gonna go change," you muttered, not trusting yourself to look at James when you said it.

Sirius frowned, his laughter fading. “Wait, we were only joking, Y/N. You don’t have to—”

But you were already halfway to the dorms, the sound of their voices fading behind you as you fled.

ੈ♡˳

You ripped off the dress the moment you were alone, tossing it onto the bed and quickly pulling on your usual jeans and jumper. The relief was immediate, but the ache in your chest didn’t go away.

There was a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” James’s voice called softly from the other side. You hesitated but opened the door anyway, finding him standing there, looking uncertain for the first time in a long while.

“You didn’t have to change,” he said, stepping inside. “You looked… you looked beautiful.”

Your heart jumped at his words, but the discomfort from earlier still weighed heavily on you. You shrugged, sitting on the edge of your bed, not quite ready to meet his eyes. “It didn’t feel right,” you admitted softly. “I just... I don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of thing.”

James frowned, walking over to stand in front of you. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze lingering on the discarded dress. “We weren’t trying to make you feel bad, you know. We’re just not used to seeing you like that.”

“I know.” You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. “It’s just—” You paused, struggling to find the right words. “I thought maybe if I tried something different, I could, I don’t know, feel like... more than just one of the guys for once.”

James was silent for a moment, and when you finally looked up at him, there was something soft in his eyes—something that made your heart skip a beat. “You’ve never been just one of the guys, Y/N.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

He stepped closer, his expression earnest. “I don’t think you get it. You’re—” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You’re amazing the way you are. Jeans, jumpers, all of it. You don’t need a dress or makeup to make anyone notice you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you weren’t sure if you were reading too much into his words, but then James ran a hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “I’ve liked you for ages, Y/N. And not because of what you wear. Because you’re you.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. He... liked you?

James let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re brilliant. You’re tough, you’re funny, and you’re always there when we need you. That’s what I like about you. That’s what matters.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and for a moment, some of the insecurities you’d felt earlier melted away. “You’ve liked me?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah. For a while now. Just didn’t know how to say it without mucking it up.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected to feel today—hope. "Well, you didn’t muck it up too badly," you teased, a bit of the old you returning.

James grinned, relief evident in his face. “So, what do you say, Y/N? Maybe next Hogsmeade weekend, we could go together. Just us?”

Your stomach flipped, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. It was excitement. “I’d like that,” you said softly, the smile on your face growing wider.

As the excitement simmered between you, a question began to bubble up in the back of your mind, nagging at you even though you were already starting to feel more at ease.

"James?" you began, your voice a little uncertain as you glanced up at him, still seated on the edge of the bed. He tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to continue. "Would it be... weird if I did want to wear dresses sometimes?"

James blinked, surprised by the question, but the soft smile on his face didn’t waver. "Weird? No, not at all," he said quickly, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. He knelt down, so his face was level with yours sitting on the bed, his eyes warm and serious. "Why would it be weird?"

You hesitated, unsure how to explain the knot of confusion that had been sitting in your chest all day. "I don’t know," you said, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. "It’s just... I’ve always been more comfortable in my clothes. I never really thought about wearing anything else. But lately, hanging out with the girls and seeing how much fun they have with it... I guess it made me curious, you know?"

James listened, his eyes never leaving yours, and nodded for you to continue.

"I don’t want to change who I am," you added quickly, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. "But I also think... I want to try new things, and I don’t want you—or the others—to think I’m not being myself."

There was a beat of silence before James reached out and gently placed a hand on yours, his touch grounding. "Y/N, you’re allowed to wear whatever you want," he said softly. "It doesn’t change who you are. Whether you’re in a dress or your favorite old jumper, you’re still you. That’s what matters."

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he replied with a grin. "Look, the dress was a surprise, sure. But if you want to wear dresses sometimes? That’s just another part of you we get to know. And trust me, Y/N, you could show up in a full ball gown, and it wouldn’t change a thing about how we see you."

You felt a smile creeping back onto your face, warmth spreading through your chest as his words sank in.

James squeezed your hand, his gaze softening. "Besides," he added, his voice a little more playful now, "if you ask me, you look great no matter what you wear. But you should do what feels right for you. Not for us, not for anyone else."

You laughed, a little embarrassed by how much his words affected you, but you couldn’t help the lightness you felt now. "Thanks, James. That... actually helps a lot."

He stood up, his grin returning to that familiar, cheeky smile that always made your heart race. "So," he said, offering you a hand to help you up, "how about we head back downstairs, and you can wear whatever the bloody hell you want, yeah?"

You took his hand, standing up. "Yeah," you agreed, feeling more like yourself than you had all day. "Sounds like a plan."

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Requesting Guidelines

#james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauder x reader #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #mari writes

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satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Text

Worth It

Summary: Marie’s Summer Fest prompt: babysitting

Pairing: Choso Kamo x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: language, handjob, fingering, smut, protected sex, fluffy fluff

Word Count: 4,988 (oops)

A/N: hi y’all sorry for the delay heroes the last prompt for my summer fest celebration!! I am finally getting back on track, my goodness have I been super busy! Enjoy!

Choso was so damn stressed. He ran his hand down his face with a sigh as Yuuji screamed at the top of his lungs, singing along to the theme song of his favorite show that was playing in the background. Choso was left feeling more than a little stressed between his dayshift at the hospital and trying to find a new babysitter while taking care of the apartment. On top of everything else, he was trying to prepare himself to see you for the first time in four years.

He had run into your Mom at the grocery store last week. After talking for a bit and hearing about all the stuff piled up on his plate, she offered for you to babysit during the summer while his grandpa was on a month-long cruise. You had been friends growing up, having lived next door to each other; it only made sense. But the age difference between you caused you both to grow apart. It was only natural since there was a four-year difference. Choso was off to medical school for his nursing degree by the time you started high school.

But now that he was twenty-four and you were twenty going to college yourself, things wouldn't be so different. God, when had he seen you last? Would he ever recognize you?

While Choso found himself lost in thought, pacing the kitchen. You were excitedly bounding up the stairs to his apartment door, knocking on it. God, you were so excited! Your mom’s consistent meddling with your dating life had finally paid off for once! She had successfully given you a chance to rekindle a relationship with your longtime crush. You’d always had a down bad for the gothy boy next door. But since you were four years younger, it never went past friendship.

Things are different now, though! You both were older now, more mature, and you were jail-bait any longer. You wouldn’t throw away the golden opportunity you had been given.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost jumped out of your skin when the door to the apartment opened. Your childhood crush towers over you, black hair tied up in two buns, and he was in his tight maroon scrubs that looked delicious on him, showing off his muscles. While you were looking over him like a tasty meal, he swallowed hard, eyeing your blue jean shorts and a black crop top, leaving for Choso’s imagination. Both of you practically eye fucking each other when a flash of pink hair came bolting out of the door.

“Sissy!!” Yuuji yelled, throwing his arms around your legs and hugging you tight.

You giggled, allowing him to knock you back a step before you reached down, ruffling his hair. “Heya Yuuji!” Your eyes trailed from pink tufts of hair to Choso’s dark eyes. “Hiya Cho.”

“H-Hi, uhm, c-come in!” He stepped aside, allowing you to shuffle in with his little brother, still attached to your leg. “Sorry about the mess, I uhm—haven't had much time to clean.”

“No worries.” Your smile was soft, warm, and understanding.

Why did you have to smile at him like that?! It took every ounce of strength in him not to confess his undying love for you right there in the apartment's entryway. Instead of an impromptu confession, he cleared his throat, ushering you to the kitchen, where the sink was filled with dishes and toys littering the floor. Choso flushed, rubbing his neck with a huff.

“Uhm—yeah, the apartment is a mess, I'm sorry—I just—ya know—”

“Choso, you're good, so there's no need to worry. You've been balancing a lot.” you are so sweet, caring, and understanding. To not like you would be an atrocity.

“Right, right, so I’ll be home around 6 o’clock; you can order food. If you want, my credit card is on the counter. Yuuji already ate breakfast, so he’s good. Thanks again for doing this. My life has been hectic between my shifts at the hospital and trying to balance everything.”

You gently took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever I can do to help alleviate some of that stress, I’m happy to do so.”

Oh, Choso could think of multiple ways you could help alleviate his stress. One day, he would tell you how much he liked you and had a crush on you since you were small. The other things he wanted to do to you involved that tiny crop top you were wearing.

“Okay, uhm—if you need me, I'm just a call away!”

“Right!”

Choso grabs his saddlebag, lunch, and his badge for work. He headed towards the door with you and Yuuji following him behind. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to look at you. You look so cute standing there holding his little brother's hand. He wouldn’t mind getting to see you like that every day he left for work.

“I’m off.”

“Be safe, see you later!”

Choso kept thinking about how you were at home with his little brother all day. He thought about how pretty you looked this morning. You were too cute for your good; you had grown up from that little kid with pigtails to a beautiful woman—one that Choso would love to take out for dinner, kiss, and finally confess his love for.

It was like that that helped him get through his hectic day. What was supposed to be a regular shift turned into a busy, nightmarish day. Between all the patients coming in for heatstroke and hiking accidents, Choso had been busy since the moment he stepped into the hospital. But a busy day, and his day went by fast, and the faster it went by, the quicker to go home to you—Yuuji, he was going to Yuuji, not you.

When he finally got home, he was about an hour and a half late. He grumbled, dropping his shoes by the front entrance before shuffling inside the apartment. "Sorry, guys. The hospital was busier than I thought." Yuuji lifted his head from the paper he was coloring on, rushing towards his big brother's arm, stretched wide.

“Big brother! Sissy made dinner! Lots of meat, and it was super tasty, too!”

"Welcome home," You said, setting a plate for him. "I hope you had a great day other than it being busy.”

Choso’s face flushed a deep red. Oh god, you’d be so cute as a stay-at-home wife someday. Shit. He nodded to you, swallowing down those thoughts. "'Uhm—yeah, it was pretty good. Thank you for dinner." He grumbled, looking you up and down as he ruffled Yuuji’s hair.

You beamed at him before kneeling to Yuuji’s height. "Yuuji, why don’t we clean up the coloring stuff? When we’re done, let's get you ready for bed while your brother eats before we watch a movie.”

Yuuji nodded excitedly, babbling on about the firefighter movie you would watch, while he looked at you with surprise written on his face before he took in the apartment. Not only had you taken care of his little brother and made a home-cooked meal, but you also had time to clean the apartment! You truly were perfection in his eyes as he happily ate the dinner your loving hands prepared while he watched you and Yuuji sitting on the couch laughing.

Yeah, this was a sight he would never get tired of looking at. When he finished dinner, he ruffled you and Yuuji’s heads before heading to the bathroom to shower. You watched from the couch, a little too obviously, as he took his scrub top off while walking down the hall. Fuck he looked so hot; it had to be illegal in some country to look as good as he did! The things you would do to him—.

“He likes you too.” Yuuji’s little voice spoke between a yawn.

“Eh?!” The eight-year-old's blunt comment left your cheeks flished as you jolted your attention back to him. “W-What makes you think that?!”

Yuuji so sweetly tilted his head to the side, smiling softly. “I see the way you guys look at each other. Plus, I heard Choso telling Gramps how excited he was to see you again. He said he couldn’t wait to see how prettier you were.” He yawned louder, rubbing at his eyes as he snuggled into your side.

“He said that?”

“Yeppers.”

About six minutes later, you carried Yuuji back to his room, tucking him in as he softly snored onto his tiger plushie. When you left his room, you decided it might be best to be blunt about your feelings for Choso. It was painfully evident that both of you were pining after each other, but neither of you knew how to tell one another. So, it seems as though you would have to make the first move.

But how are you going to do that?

It would probably be best just straight up to tell him, but you weren’t sure if you could look him in the face and tell him how you felt. Sometimes, actions spoke better than words. You toss your options around as you clean the kitchen, scrubbing at the plates left in the sink. At about that same time, Choso walked out of his bedroom, heading into the kitchen in a towel, his eyes watching you clean like a hawk. "Hey, honey."

"Hello Cho-o-ooh!" You blushed, looking him over, taking in the stray droplets of water running down his chest. He looked so hot! The water emphasized the definitions of his toned abs, making your mouth dry, suddenly thirsty for him. Miraculously, though, you shook your head, turning away from him. "Ehem, are you feeling better?"

He nodded, running a hand through his damp hair. "Yeah, a lot better.” He pursed his lips together as he watched you drain the sink before wiping down the counters. “Thank you for watching Yuuji and cleaning up for me—it means a lot.”

“I figured since I was here, and Yuuji could entertain himself, I might as well help out a little more. I like making it a bit easier for you.”

“You are a breath of fresh air.” He hummed, propping his head up on his elbow. “Seriously, you just lifted ten tons off my shoulders. I’m so glad your mom told you I needed help.”

“I’m glad she told me too.” You whispered as you wrung on the rag before folding it over the edge.

“Seeing you here at the house, taking care of Yuuji, making dinner, made me wish you could be his permanent babysitter until you return to college in the fall.”

You stepped around the counter, leaning against it before your childhood friend. “Are you offering me the position? Because I can assure you I am CPR certified and have tons of experience babysitting from my high school years.” Choso grinned, exhaling contently through his nose.

"Consider it, then. You're extremely qualified, and you’re good with him."

A compliment was his subtle way of asking you to be the full-time babysitter. Your tummy was all fuzzy as you gave him your best sultry laugh. A laugh that had Choso’s cock twitching to life underneath his towel

"Oh yeah?" You bit your lip. "Are you sure it's not just because you want me around—?" Your eyes glittered as you smugly grinned.

He flushed, eyes going wide as he turned to look at you. "No! I—I mean, only if you want to! There is no pressure at all!" He corrected himself, looking away as he rubbed at his neck.

“Well, what if I were to say I wanted the position?”

“T-Then you could have it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts together. “AlrightI—.” before you could answer, you couldn’t help but notice your childhood friend's eyes glancing towards your cleavage. “Oh my god—are you staring at my tits?” There was no disgust or anger in your voice as she questioned him. Instead, nothing but the light and excitement laced your tone, which went completely unnoticed by Choso.

He choked on his saliva, coughing as he looked away, trying to hide his blush. "N-No!I'm not some pervert!'

"Whoa, Cho, it’s okay! I was teasing you." You said, changing your laid-back demeanor. "I know you're not a perv." You returned to drying the washed dishes with a wink and a smile.

God, the things you did to him drove him absolutely insane. Choso couldn't deny that he was looking at your pretty breasts. His mind conjured up different ideas on how he worshiped them. Those delusional thoughts had him moving a hand to cover his mouth as he glanced out at the sink, flushing deeply. The embarrassment left him feeling numb to the temperature, your laughter, and the sensation of touch. Because he was so entranced, he never noticed his towel starting to fall, but it never lost, all thanks to his hard cock holding it up.

“Cho, really you’re—” your eyes peered away from the cup in your hand. The sight of his seemingly levitating towel caused the plastic cup to fall out of your hands, clattering in the sink. "I-I fuck~ you have a huge cock.”

His eyes widened as he looked down. "O-Oh fucking hell!" He grabbed the towel, trying to hide his erection from you, but it was too late. You’d already seen a peek, and you wanted to see more.

You walk over without a care in the world, your tits jiggling. "Choso~ do you need help with that?" you eye him closely, teasingly brushing your fingers over his shaft through the towel.

“H-Honey—I uhm—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Choso sighed, shaking his head. “I-I uhm—no, I don't.” He groaned, shaking his head.

Without another word, you gently cupped his face in your hands, kissing him deeply. Choso’s eyes went wide for a split second, the shock causing him to release his grip on the towel as his brain tried to process what was happening. All of his dreams and fantasies for years were coming true. Your lips were on his, and he didn’t think he could longer hold himself back. So, instead of holding back those carnal desires, he let them take over instead. His fingers fisted into your hair as he kissed you back with the same enthusiasm as you had.

Lips moved in sync with each other, As he pressed you up against the counter, his hard cock throbbing against you. Your head was spinning in the best way as you dug your fingers into his damp hair, tugging at it gently as you let yourself lose all your control. You both weren’t kids anymore, and you weren’t jailbait, which meant you could finally go after what you wanted without any repercussions, and the way your childhood friend was kissing you, you knew he felt the same way.

Choso nipped at your bottom lip as he pulled back just an inch, allowing you to look at the black tattoo across the bridge of his nose. He was breathing; his cheeks flushed a pretty pink. His dark eyes roamed across your face, taking in your beauty.

“Oh my god, this is finally happening.” He snarled out before his lips were on yours again. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is finally fucking happening.”

“Is that why you came out of nothing but your towel?” you questioned as he grabbed your hair, forcing your neck to the sides slightly, allowing his lips to trail down your sensitive, sweet skin. “Ah~ fuck~ t-trying to seduce the babysitter?”

“Ha, more like I’m finally making my move.”

You blinked, trying to focus on what he said, but his lips running over your skin was distracting. “W-Wait~ nnngh fuck did you seriously do that on purpose?!” His hands found a sweet spot on your hips, and you could feel him grinning against your neck.

“No, not really, it’s just a happy accident.”

"Ooh." You mumbled, reaching down, stroking his insanely hard cock. "I suppose I better help you with this accident then." You whispered, standing on your tiptoes and nipping at his earlobe. “I told you I'm happy to help with the house, but I'm also happy to help in ‘other’ ways too.”

Choso groaned, his hands gripping the counter next to him. "F-Fuck, honey—" He moaned as your hand twisted expertly up and down his cock. Watching you do something he’s fantasized about while jerking off for years felt like a fever dream. "Oh fuck-!”

You smirked at the feeling of his cock throbbing in your hand, making you move your hand.

"Does that feel good?" Choso hissed head, falling forward as he nodded.

"Y-Yeah, fuck, it feels s-soo good. God fuck, you’resfucking pretty." He panted softly, trying to prevent himself from cumming too soon. It'd been a long time since he touched himself; he had been so busy.

“Good,” Your thumb ran teasingly over the slit dribbling more pre-cum. “You deserve to have some fun~ for caring for your family, working so hard.” Your hand increased in speed, desperate to help him cum.

Choso gasped, one of his hands gripping the countertop of the kitchen island, as the other hand grabbed the back of your neck, bringing your for head to rest on his as his orgasm crashed into him, his cum spurting out in thick ropes over you are hand. "FUCK!" He cried out, jerking his hips forward with whines and grunts.

“Oooh fuck,” you moaned; his cum was so thick and warm, you wished he had come in your mouth or—somewhere more intimate. "There you go~ feel a bit better now, Cho?" you asked, bringing your hand to your mouth, licking the thick, bittersweet release off your hand.

“God fuck.” Choso panted softly, looking down at you as he took his bottom lip between his teeth. "F-Fuck, yes, thank you—b-but I think we have a problem now.”

“And what might that be?”

“I can't control myself around you.”

Hearing that had your panties soaking wet. You found yourself biting your lip, rubbing your hands slowly down his bare chest. You could see the way his eyes rolled back into his head, how he shuddered and groaned as his cock slowly twitched back to life. Giving you more confidence to press against him with a soft, needy sigh. Choso groaned, eyes rolling back as you kissed slowly up his chest.

“So now might not be the best time to tell you I'm soaking wet right now?”

Choso groaned, nodding quickly. "Y-Yeah, maybe you should stop. If you don't... If you don't, I won't be able to stop myself."

You pouted and sighed. "If that's what you want, I'll stop." You headed to the sink to wash your hands. "You just look so stressed out and in need of a good fucking. Oh well, guess I'm lucky you're such a good guy, Choso~ wanting to contr—”

As soon as you said 'a good fucking,' all hell broke loose. Choso grabbed you by your wrist, dragging you down the hall. He didn't allow you to think before you were pulled into a bedroom, and the door slammed behind you. Choso pushed you back and pinned you down onto his bed. "Fucking tease." He growled.

The sudden change of scenery and the drop of his voice had your thighs squeezing together. All you managed to do was gasp loudly, looking up at him in awe. "I-I—holy fuck Cho."

He leaned down, biting and kissing your neck.

"Is this what you wanted? For me to lose control and fuck you?"

You nodded, whimpering as you squirmed.

"Yes, Cho~ I do~!" You shivered before moaning into your hands.

A hand slid up your body, massaging your breasts with a desperate groan. He was so in love with you. To have you underneath him like he'd fantasized about a hundred times before was unbelievable. Choso wanted, no, he needed you so insanely bad. Nothing would stop him from making you feel good and showing you how much he cared.

“Tell me what you want, honey."

“Y-You Cho! I want you! I've always wanted you!”

He nodded with a smirk, his hand gliding down to slip under your panties, his fingers brushing against your pussy. "Fuck, so wet~" This, indeed, was better than any of the daydreams he'd had about you when you had come home from college.

You were a mess, gasping pit loud, hands gripping the sheets underneath you. His fingers felt so much better than you had imagined them feeling. Being with him like this would make every solo session you had from this moment on lackluster. Thank god he was only a few streets away from you.

Because looking down at his hand working at you would not be enough to get you off in the future. You needed him, to feel him on you, touching you, feeling the heat of his body on you. "Fuck, your fingers feel so good-!" You mewled out, your hips bucking up against his hand.

Choso pulled his fingers up slightly to gently toying with your swollen clit. "Yeah? Is that true?" He chuckled softly, trying and failing to hide the desperation in his voice.

"Y-Yeah~ god, they're calloused, and it feels fucking good!” Your eyes bore into his with pure lust. "Will you please have sex with me? I bet you know how to fuck well, Cho."

Your childhood friend stiffens at your request. The shock faded into a need as he growled softly, sliding two fingers into your tight wet pussy to start stretching you out. "I have a bit of experience, yeah." His lips met yours in a searing kiss. “I’d be happy to show you how experienced I am.”

“Fuuck!” You inhaled sharply, looking up at him.

"Fuck yes, I want it so bad~" You moaned out, your walls clenching around his fingers.

Choso growled in response, curling them up and slowly pumping them into your wet walls. "Such a good girl— fuck honey.” While you arched and squirmed underneath him, Chosk leaned over, nipping at your sensitive neck as he slid a third finger in, thrusting them into you with a low hum of approval.

You could hardly take it anymore. You threw your head back. His fingers brushed over a sensitive, spongy spot deep inside of you that you could hardly reach. But the instant his fingers pressed down on that mythical spot, you saw stars.

"I-I'm c-cumming!" You screamed out loud, causing Choso to finger you faster until your slick coated his fingers, making his cock throb hard.

Seeing you come undone like that left Choso smirking as he continued working his fingers in and out of you, helping her ride out your orgasm. His gentle touches and soothing kisses had you eager for more. Your fingers dug into his biceps, trying to drag him close to your face and attempt that Choso found himself helping you with and allowing his body to follow your needy touch until his lips were on yours.

"Fuck me, god, please fuck me." You whispered against his kiss-swollen lips.

At this point, your walls relaxed enough to allow Choso to slide his fingers from you, moving them up to his lips and cleaning them off with his mouth. “You want me?” he grabbed a condom from his bedside table. "You think you're ready?"

"Oh god, yes, please fuck. I'm so ready. I've been ready for so long. God, I need you, Cho; I need you so bad, please.” You pleaded out, looking down at his thick long cock that throbbed at the sound of your voice.

That begging left Choso a groaning mess as he nodded, sliding the condom over his length before pushing the head of his cock against your entrance. "F-Fuck, you're so tight, honey." Choso moaned softly before he slid his cock into you, grabbing your legs and placing them over his shoulders. "Tell me to stop, and I will, okay, sweetie?”

“I will.” You whispered, only to have your words cut off by a gasp as Choso pushed further inside of you. "I—fuck!”

Hearing your oft cries only pushed Choso to press himself further inside of you. He made sure to pay attention to your body, breathing, and facial reactions the entire time. He wanted you to feel as good as he did but didn't want to hurt you. Luckily for him, you were so wet; everything went as smoothly as any couple could hope for their first time. And this was one neither of you would forget.

"Are you okay, honey?" Choso asked tentatively as he pressed his hips to flush against yours. You nodded in agreement, trialing hot, open-mouth kisses down his neck, encouraging him to keep going as you rocked against him. Feeling you get into it made Choso feel drunk off of you and your pussy. He felt like he was desperately restraining himself from fucking you fast and hard, just the way he liked it. "Honey, fuck—you're making it hard to hold back."

"Then, fuck me the way you like it, Cho." You whispered as you stared into his eyes. "I want you, no matter if it's hard or slow. Being with you like this is more than I could have ever asked for.”

He growled softly, leaning in and biting down on your shoulder as he started to rail his cock into you. Losing the last remains of self-control he had. The sudden change of pace and speed left you screaming and whining as you dug your nails into his back.

"Cho!" You cried out, thrashing your head side to side against the pillows beneath you. Seeing you in such a state had Choso's eyes rolling back as he desperately fucked into you like a wild animal, growling into your shoulder. You whimpered and moaned louder, feeling your legs starting to tremble at the feeling of another orgasm approaching. "C—Cho!" Your own eyes rolled back into your head. "F-Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep fucking me this hard!"

Choso finally released his grip on your shoulder, kissing and biting at your neck between moans. "G-Good g-girl, fuck! I-I want you to c-cum on my cock, fucking milk me, honey--!"

You were going to cum, and you were going to cum hard. Not wanting to wake up his brother, you decided to follow his lead. You bit into Choso’s shoulder as hard as you could to silence your voice as she came hard around him. Getting fucked like this by your long-time crush was everything you dreamed of. And Choso felt the same as his eyes shot wide as you bit him, his teeth clenching as he groaned loudly as his cock twitched inside you, unloading his cum into you faster than he thought.

You both remained still like that, teeth and fingers digging into each other as your body shook with the aftershocks of your orgasms. You were the first to release him, panting as you pulled your teeth out of his, opting to wrap your arms around him instead. A gesture Choso was grateful for as he panted against your shimmering skin. You were pulling back to look down at you with blazing, dark eyes.

“Oh fuck." You giggled, tracing your nails down his back.

"God fuck, yeah, that was unexpected."

"It was Unexpected, but it felt so good." You whispered against his lips with a wide, warm smile.

Seeing such a warm smile made Choso melt against you as he realized he was falling harder for you. "Y-Yeah. " He let out a breathless laugh, disgrading the used condom in the trashcan before he laid back down, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. "Yeah, it did."

You relaxed against the bed, holding him close against you. "You know, I could get used to this. Hanging out at your place, making dinner, waiting for you to come home. It was nice." Your nails gently scratched at his scalp with a hum

“Only if you promise to let me take you on a real date. One that doesn't involve cartoons and crayons.” You giggled as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You know, to an actual restaurant, then we can come back and have incredible sex like this over and over again."

"Mhmm, I hope you can match my sex drive.”

Choso couldn't stop the growl that rose in his lower chest as he tightened his grip around you. "Oh, honey, that's what's good about older men like me. We have the stamina and the experience."

You giggled as Choso yanked you onto his chest, holding you tight against him. “You're only older by four years, Cho.” His hand gently rubbed up and down your arm, as he sighed contently. As you nuzzled your head into his chest, Choso couldn't help but look up at his ceiling fan. “But that difference seemed to work out in our favor.” Pulling your head back, you rested your chin on his chest, finding His dark eyes focused solely on you; it was a look that melted your heart.

“Yeah, I guess it did, didn't it?” you agreed, resting your chin against his chest.

“Yeah, but it was well worth the wait,” Choso whispered, leaning down and kissing you softly.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

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corroded-hellfire · 7 months

Note

With Eliza at school and Luke nervous about a little girl a thought came to me.

How would Eddie react when Eliza came home and I just talked about a boy giving her things, like a picture of them holding hands?

And Luke talking to reader, asking how her dad made her fall in love with him.

Obviously you don't have to do this if you don't want to.

I love you.

This request just seemed like the perfect one for @munson-blurbs and me to write for Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoy and that Cupid shoots all of you in your wonderful butts with an arrow 💘

Warnings: smut, oral, f receiving, male masturbation, pregnant!reader, older!eddie

Words: 2.6k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Little Eliza Munson slides her glittery green Little Mermaid backpack off and sets it down on the coffee table in the living room. Her small Mary Janes had been kicked off near the front door and now she tucks her pink sock-clad feet beneath her as she unzips the bag.

First out comes the folder that her homework is always secured safely inside. Keeping with the theme of Disney Princesses, a smiling Mulan stares up at Eliza as she opens the folder. Before she can get to her homework though, a drawing slips out and floats down onto the carpet next to her. Heaving a sigh and rolling her brown doe eyes in annoyance, she snaps the folder closed as Luke traipses into the room.

Drawings weren’t uncommon in the Munson household. In fact, there was probably a drawing from every member of the family hanging on the over-crowded fridge. But as Luke glimpsed this slightly crumpled paper next to his sister on the navy carpet, he knew he didn’t recognize the style—or lack thereof—from anyone in the house.

“Liza, whatcha got?” he asks his sister.

“A drawing from my boyfriend,” Eliza replies, nonchalantly.

A loud bang and a murmured “shit” from the kitchen has Luke snorting in amusement at what was obviously their dad’s reaction to Eliza’s little announcement.

“Oooh, Liza likes a boooooy!” Luke teases as he walks over towards her. He bends over to pick the drawing up, but Eliza snatches it and slams it down on the table in front of her before he can.

The little girl wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Ew, no! I don’t like him. He’s always eating sand from the sandbox.”

Ryan pokes his head in from the kitchen, his mouth full of food like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Hey, Luke used to do that.” He strolls over to his siblings. Luke glares at his older brother as he continues speaking. “When did you finally stop? Last month, right?” Eliza giggles and it diverts Ryan’s attention back to her. “Then why is he your boyfriend if you don’t like him?” The oldest Munson sibling takes a seat down on the floor next to the little girl. He tilts his head as he inspects the drawing the boy made for her. Ryan is able to make out that it’s supposed to be Eliza holding someone’s hand—presumably the boy who drew it. The little hearts around their heads in reds, pinks, and purples add the final touch.

Eliza shrugs. “Cuz he said so.”

“Who said what?” Eddie asks as he comes into the living room. He’s caught wind of what’s going on from being just on the other side of the wall in the kitchen, but he doesn’t wanna come in ready to send this four-year-old boy with a crush on his daughter to Siberia. “Please don’t tell me you listened to Luke again. Didn’t you learn your lesson when we had to unglue those shoes from your feet?”

Luke throws his arms in the air. “Why am I being attacked like this today? You know what, I’m going to find the one person in this family who actually likes me.”

Ryan smirks to himself and can’t help adding, “Wormy Munson died when you were four, dude. He’s long gone.”

Luke flips him the bird as he walks out of the room. Eddie crouches down and looks over the drawing with Ryan when Luke returns with you in tow.

“It’s them,” Luke says in a whiney voice, pointing to his older brother and father.

You sigh and shake your head as you rest your hand on your swollen belly. “Why are you all picking on my son?” You wrap your arms around Luke the best you can in your heavily pregnant state and press a kiss to the side of his head. “My little angel did nothing wrong.”

“Yeah,” Luke adds petulantly, and it transports you back to when he was five. Ryan rolls his eyes and Eddie lets out a bark of laughter. Even Eliza isn’t buying it. Luke pretends to recover from his ordeal and turns to the little girl. “Okay, Eliza,” he says to his sister, “tell Mom what you just told us.”

“My boyfriend drawed me a picture, but he’s gross and I don’t like him.”

“He’s only her boyfriend because he said he was,” Ryan tells you.

“Honey,” you say with a soft sigh, “if you don’t like someone, you can say ‘no, thank you.’”

“And if he doesn’t listen, you can always hit him with the one-two.” Luke demonstrates by punching the air.

Eddie shakes his head and waves his hands in front of him. “Absolutely not.” You breathe a sigh of relief that he’s putting an end to Luke’s bad advice until he says, “you gotta kick, too. Aim for the—”

“Okay, that’s enough violence for our four-year-old, thank you very much.” You waddle your way into the kitchen and open the cupboard to find one of the few boxes that haven’t been ravaged by teenage boys. “Who wants fruit snacks?”

“Not Liza’s boyfriend,” Ryan snickers. “He’s still full from all the sand.”

Luke looks at you for a moment but doesn’t speak until you’ve handed a pouch of fruit snacks to Eliza. “Was Dad your first boyfriend?”

Eddie wraps his arms around your growing middle. “No, but I was her last,” he teases, kissing your cheek with an exaggerated mwah!

The boys mirror each other with their grossed-out faces. Luke shakes it off though and playfully nudges his father out of the way with his shoulder.

“So then how did he make you fall in love with him instead of with another boy?” he asks.

An instinct is telling you that there’s more behind this line of questioning than simple curiosity of your and Eddie’s relationship, but you know better than to pry in front of his siblings—or his dad, for that matter.

Taking advantage of the others being occupied by the snack, you tug Luke towards the front of the living room and plop down on a couch with him. You’re facing him as much as you can with a seven-month pregnant belly, adjusting to a comfortable position.

“So, what do you want to know?” you start off asking Luke, keeping your eagerness to a minimum. The last thing you want to do is scare him away by seeming too excited.

“Well, like…” Luke looks down and picks at a loose thread on his sock. “What made you want to be with dad? Like, you were in college when you two met. There were all those college guys, but you wanted dad. Why? What did he do to…get your attention, I guess?”

Your memory flashes back to when you first met Eddie. It feels like you’re watching a mini movie in your brain about how the two of you ended up together, a reel that wouldn’t be allowed on cable TV. The story isn’t exactly something you want to tell your son, so you comb through to find the bits that can be given as advice.

“What did he do to get my attention?” You shrug and shake your head. “There wasn’t something he specifically did that made me want to be with him. It was a bunch of things that make up who he is. The first thing that caught my attention though was seeing how great of a dad he is to you two boys. You guys just adored him, and he’d do anything for you. It melted my heart.”

Luke chews on his lower lip as he considers your words. “So, there wasn’t something that he…bought you or anything?” He scrunches up his nose in contemplation.

“Luke,” you say with a kind chuckle. “You can’t buy someone’s affection.” When he stays silent, you decide to press your luck. “Is there any particular reason you’re asking?”

His cheeks go pink; it makes you think how bashfulness is an odd look on the boy who is seemingly unfazed by everything.

“There’s, um, this girl at school. And I was gonna ask her to the Valentine’s dance, but I don’t wanna look like an idiot.”

You smile. Mystery solved. Honestly, you should have known that Luke would be experiencing these kinds of feelings sooner rather than later. “Part of liking someone is taking that risk,” you tell him. “Although I highly doubt you’ll look like an idiot.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs, not fully satisfied with that response. “I just don’t wanna do too much, but I also don’t wanna do too little.”

The gift question makes more sense now. Usually, Luke’s gift-giving was reserved for birthdays or bribery, but it looks like he was making an exception to the rule.

“Well, maybe you could get her a rose? Just one, not a whole bouquet,” you suggest. “And then you can ask her to the dance.”

“You think that will work?” Luke asks, a nervous quiver in his voice.

It breaks your heart to see him this anxious, and you wish you could make certain that his plan will be successful.

“Since I don’t know this girl, all I can say is that it should work. And if it doesn’t, she’s not worth your time because she doesn’t realize how thoughtful and caring you are.” You think for a second and then add, “not to mention hilarious.”

“And devastatingly handsome,” he quips with a straight face, making you giggle.

“Of course, that too.”

Your youngest son stands up from the couch and presses a kiss to the top of your hair. Pregnancy hormones have you tearing up as you remember when you used to do that to him.

“Thanks, Ma.”

Luke helps you off the couch and as you walk closer to the kitchen you can hear your husband and daughter conversing.

Eddie stands in front of Eliza with a serious expression. “Now, what do we tell boys we don’t like when they like you?”

“No, thanks!”

“Right!” He offers her his hand, and she slaps him five. “And now what do we tell boys if you do like them?”

Eliza thinks for a moment before remembering the answer. “I got a tall Daddy and crazy big brothers.”

“That’s my girl!”

Luke walks past and chimes in. “Tell them one of your brothers went insane from scurvy. Like it seeped into his brain and turned him into a flesh-eating zombie.”

The little girl makes a grossed-out face, giggling when Eddie gently slaps him upside the head. As if wanting to join in, you feel a kick from within your belly.

“You wanna know how I snagged this gorgeous lady?” Eddie puts an arm around you and looks at Luke. “Turned on the ol’ Munson charm. It’s irresistible.”

The comment about his irresistible charm plays on a loop all evening. Once the kids go to bed, it’s time for you to see if you can whip up some charm of your own.

While Eddie brushes his teeth, you strip down to nothing. Well, nothing but the necklace he gave you on the night you two first slept together. The night you’d finally felt him inside you after months of using your own fingers and pretending it was him. The night he promised to knock you up with his babies.

Mission accomplished.

He walks back into the bedroom, his eyes immediately drawn to the pendant resting between your milk-filled breasts.

“Jesus, baby.” He practically flies into bed and starts kissing you. His burgeoning erection presses against your thigh through his boxers.

You tilt your head slightly, so he knows to move his lips to your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you, Eds. How good you treat me, how loved you make me feel…”

Eddie’s fingers find your clit and make precise circular motions. “Always gonna treat you good. Like my goddamn princess.” His mouth finds your collarbone. “The way you look when you’re pregnant…god damn.”

Smiling, you start to push yourself up, but he shakes his head. “I wanna spoil you tonight.” He positions himself between your thighs, licking a gentle stripe up your folds. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet. Here, see for yourself.” He leans over your stomach and kisses you so you can taste your own arousal on his tongue.

“‘S all about you tonight,” Eddie promises. He lowers himself back down and buries his nose in your pubic hair. His tongue glides over your clit, softly at first, but gradually increases in pressure.

“Mhm, y-yes. R-Right there,” you murmur, relishing in the build-up to the stimulation.

Eddie’s hips rut against the mattress as he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull himself closer to you. The feeling of your fingers tangling in his hair has him surging towards painfully hard.

The soft moans and whimpers that float from your sweet lips break Eddie’s resolve and he reaches down to wrap a hand around his aching cock. He strokes himself in time with the flicks of his tongue over your aroused clit.

“Eddie…Eddie—oh!” You throw your head back against the pillows. A pleasant warmth grows within you and it has you arching your back, legs tightening around your husband’s head.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“That’s my girl,” Eddie says against your dripping, throbbing pussy. “Cum for me, princess.”

Sparks dance in your vision as your orgasm breaks over you. It makes its way throughout your body, curling into every corner until it feels the absolute euphoria that Eddie brought you.

Trying to catch your breath, you watch with dark eyes as Eddie pushes himself up to his knees. You know what he wants, so you lay down as flat as you can so it’s easier for him to crawl over you.

Eddie’s still fisting his cock, the tip angry and leaking precum. He manages to straddle your body and braces himself with one hand pressed on the mattress right beside your head. His other hand works over his cock until the rhythm becomes erratic—your husband’s telltale sign that he’s about to cum. You only encourage this by arching your back and presenting your enlarged breasts and rounded stomach to him.

With one final growl, Eddie releases over your bare skin. You watch as the pearly white lines make patterns across your belly with each pump of his fist over his cock. There’s so much and you love it.

Once he’s finally spent, Eddie collapses down on the bed next to you. You miss when he’d just fall down onto you after sex, but the growing in your womb has put a pin in that for the time being.

Neither you nor Eddie want to clean his cum from your body, but Eddie grabs his boxers and takes his time in cleaning you. If he went over your nipples more than once or maybe give a tit a squeeze here and there, what of it?

After a few attempts, you manage to roll onto your side so you’re lying face to face with your husband. He leans in closer and gently presses his nose against yours.

“You always make me feel so good,” you say softly.

Eddie smiles and it makes your heart kick up. That smile will never lose its magic.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Eddie replies sleepily.

You lean in the last few inches and press your lips against Eddie’s.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say.

“It’s not Valentine's Day yet,” Eddie says with a soft chuckle.

“True,” you say as you curl up into his chest. “But I don’t need that day to tell you and show you how much I love you.”

“You’re right, sweetheart.” Eddie smiles and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re my Valentine every day.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie #eddie munson imagine #AYW #AYWS #request

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sunsetchicane · 3 months

Text

cowboy like me [LN4]

lando x fem!reader

word count: 8.2k

summary: The one where you work on a ranch and it’s everything you know. There’s nothing that can come between you and your love for your home. Not even a handsome stranger who seems to pull the best out of you.

warnings: slight angst, some fluff, horses!, brief sexual innuendo, a singular swear word, and one [sad] kiss.

author’s note: hey! hi! hello! this is my first fic on here (omgggg 🤭) so please, please, please let me know your thoughts/comments/questions! might write a second part to this…thoughts??[xoxo elle]

~~~

Buxton Ranch has been in the Buxton family before Montana even became an official Union state in 1889. Land wasn’t simply a commodity or property back then; it was life or death. William T. Buxton and his wife, Mary Anne, put their boots down on this land along with their four children and they’ve never left. They fought their way over the mountains, survived the unbearable, and have reaped the benefits of their resilience for over a century and a half.

Willamina T. Buxton I, my boss, is the great-something granddaughter of William T. Buxton I. Her father, William T. Buxton VII handed over the ranch to her on her 30th birthday a few years back. The controversy caused ripples through the entire community because even though Willamina is Mr. Buxton’s first born, the ranch has always been handed down to the eldest son. Willa is the first woman to ever have ownership of the ranch.

My family hasn’t been in Montana nearly as long as the Buxtons. My mom and I moved out here in the spring the year I was born. My father skipped out before my mom could even hold herself upright in her hospital bed after laboring with me. She tells me that we came here to Montana for a fresh start, and what better place to go than where the sky is bigger and the air is pure. The mountains became our safe haven, our buffer from the rest of the world and, more importantly, our history. It’s easy to forget up here, to allow your mind to rest. I’ve never been at a loss for why the Buxtons came and never left. Sometimes, in the dark of my room, I pretend that I really am a Buxton, that I truly belong.

However, when the sun breaks across the mountain peaks and the world comes alive once again, I’m forced to realize that I don’t belong to the Buxton dynasty. I simply work for them.

My alarm blares to my right, causing me to shoot upright. With fumbling fingers, I seek for the power button of my alarm clock. When I finally find it and shut off the hellish noise, I fling my legs over the side of my bed. With the heels of my hands, I rub the sleep from my eyes. The world around me is painted in a deep blue, still fast asleep and undisturbed by my alarm. I envy it as I rise from my bed and get ready for the day.

Silently, I pull on my bootcut Wranglers and a light green long sleeved button down. My belt and beat up old boots complete the ensemble for the moment being. My next stop is the bathroom where I brush my teeth and comb my hair. Tying my hair off into a low braid so it’ll sit right under my hat takes only a couple minutes. I’ve been wearing my hair the same way to work every day for the past seven years.

Once I’m done in the bathroom, I make my way to the kitchen where a pot of coffee is automatically brewing on schedule. I toss a few eggs into a pan as well as two pieces of bread into the toaster. The breakfast of champions and me every single day. After crushing a cup of coffee and my plain breakfast, it’s time to head out. Instead of living on-site with the rest of the ranch hands, I still live with my mom. I’ve been wanting to move out to the ranch for over a year now since I finished college, but the possibility of breaking my mom’s heart stops me from even mentioning it to her.

Glancing at the clock, I know I have plenty of time to spare, but I start to pack up and head out the door anyway. I enjoy being early to the ranch. It’s peaceful and serene before it wakes and rises. Grabbing my work jacket because the winter’s just turning over to spring, my chaps, and my lunch sack, I head out the door. My mom and I share an old, sunburnt orange Chevy truck that just barely runs. I toss my things into the bed of the pickup before sliding into the worn out driver’s seat. As I slide the key into the ignition, I send up a quick prayer that she turns over. When I press the key forward, the engine roars to life. Prayers have been answered this morning and I hope it’s a good omen for the rest of the day.

The drive to Buxton Ranch is short and sweet, all dirt roads and drifting grassy fields. The radio sounds quietly and the engine hums loudly, but everything else is completely still. A distant light orange is just starting to brush the very edges of the horizon in the east. Nature is starting to reach out and stretch its sleepy limbs.

As I pull up to the place where I always park near a stretch of fence, I see a figure dressed in shadows leaning over the wood a few yards away. Once I’ve tossed the pickup into park and yanked out the keys, I jump down from my seat so I can walk over to her. She’s always out here before everyone. Sometimes I see her, most times I don’t. When I do, it feels like fate, like there’s something about today that’s meant to happen this way. Or maybe it’s just Willamina Buxton.

“Good morning, y/n,” she rasps without glancing over at me. Crossing my arms, I lean over the log fence and take in the view. I don’t think there’s a better view in all of Montana than that from Buxton Ranch.

“Good morning, Willa,” I answer quietly. Her brother, Wyatt, was my best friend growing up. She’s only 12 years older than the two of us, but somehow she seems infinitely older and wiser. She’s been a role model for me. We grew closer after Wyatt left for college a few years back. Of course he came back in the summers to visit, but he never stayed long. He wasn’t born for this life. Instead of horses, he dealt with horse power. He always wanted to become an engineer for Formula One. When the opportunity came to go overseas to study in England and intern at McLaren, he hadn’t even thought twice. One day he was here, and the next he was gone.

I struggled with feeling abandoned for a while, but I came to terms with it quickly. I realized that dreams were meant to be chased and he was incredibly fortunate to get this opportunity. I was also chasing my dream, I just had to go down the street instead of across an ocean. We keep in touch, calling frequently and texting nearly every day, but it’s not the same. I miss him.

“Heard from Wyatt recently?” Willa says quietly then takes a sip from her mug of iron black coffee.

“Not in a couple of days. Seems busy,” I mumble. Wyatt’s leaving is a bit of a sore spot for Willa. She wanted him to stay on the ranch and in the family business. Her asking about him is a bit of an anomaly.

She hums, then pauses, then sighs. “Lots to do today. We better get going.”

And just like that the work day starts.

I tend to the horses right away, leading them out into the corral so I can wash out their stalls from over the weekend. I give each of them fresh hay and fill up large troughs of water for the more temperamental ones. Then I lead them one at a time back into their stalls and give them a thorough once over to check how they’re doing.

The last one I have to put away is the youngest of the group. He came to us only last year, unbroke and wild as the river. He’s a black Morgan stallion, sleek and athletic. He’s larger than your typical Morgan, with rippling muscle, and a proud face. He’s beautiful. We call him Jupe.

“Jupe,” I coo kindly to the untamed stallion. “Come on, Jupe.”

He casts a look over his back at me telling me everything I need to know. Sighing, I toss myself over the fence and into the corral. With my palms raised up and in front of me, I show him the leather lead in my hand as I walk over to him slowly.

“Come on, Jupe, we gotta go back inside. I cleaned up real nice for you, boy. Fresh hay, new water, you’re living the five star life, buddy,” I say while creeping up on him. He doesn’t move, but simply tracks my movements with his black eyes. Nerves claw at my stomach as I approach him. Reaching out slowly, I praise him and repeat his name over and over. Finally, I slide the clip of the lead around a loop in his bridle. But there’s no relief yet. I still have to get him into the stables without incident.

“Good boy, Jupe,” I say, reaching out gently to stroke his nose. He pushes at my hand playfully. A surge of pride washes over me. Maybe the two of us are finally making progress. Jupe lets me lead him out of the corral and back to his stall with ease. Today really is my day.

“Thank you,” I whisper to the stallion as I slide the lock shut on his door. Jupe’s head hangs over the short door, his head coming down to level with mine. Patting him gently, I pull a couple sugar cubes from my pack. I hold them up to him on my flat palm and he slurps them up gratefully. A smile that I can do nothing to stop breaks across my face. I’m gonna saddle him up one day. And maybe that day is sooner than I’d anticipated.

“Only you would give that stubborn Morgan a treat,” I hear a familiar voice say. I whip around in disbelief as the tone and inflexion registers in my mind.

“Then again, maybe the two of you have bonded over your mutual stubbornness.” Wyatt hardly gets the words out before I’m taking his arm in mine and wrapping him up in a hug with the other. We laugh as we sway side to side. My hat careens to the side of my head as I hug him and I know I must be getting him all sweaty and dirty, but I can’t find it in myself to care about vanity at the moment. Wyatt’s back.

“Surprise!” He says when I finally let go of him. He’s wearing a bright smile as I pull back. Wyatt reaches up and straightens out my hat for me.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming!” I say while smacking the back of my hand against his shoulder. “I would’ve gotten off work and…”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he laughs as I slide past him to finish up sweeping this side of the stables.

“You’re right,” I laugh along with him while I sweep. He knows that I love my job too much to step away from it. I hate missing a day and he knows that.

Wyatt takes a seat on a stack of unused hay bales that I’ll have to load back up. He chats with me about school and England and McLaren. I don’t know much about Formula One, just what I picked up on from Wyatt constantly chatting my ear off about it. Most of the stuff that Wyatt has told me, however, goes way over my head. What I do know is that this boy is an engineering genius and McLaren is lucky to have him now as a full-time employee. They offered him a job straight out of university. He’ll be living full time in the UK. My stomach twists at the thought.

“So, what do you have going on for the rest of the day?” Wyatt asks after I’ve finished sweeping. I place my hands on top of the broom and lean my chin over my fingers.

“Riley and I were going to take down that rickety south fence and…” I start to say while mentally checking my to-do list.

“Sandy’s helping Riley with that,” Wyatt says matter-of-factly. I cast him a questioning look to which he simply blinks at.

“Alright. Then I have to go to the cattle and check on all of the pregnant…”

“Louise has that covered,” Wyatt informs me while picking at his nails. What is he getting at?

“Why…well, then I have to…” I begin, trying to move away from things that he could possibly know of.

“Go riding with me and my friends!” Wyatt exclaims while hopping off the hay bales and clapping his hands together. “Wonderful idea.”

My jaw drops. There’s no way that he’s trying to make me skip the rest of the day to go riding. Not after we just had a conversation over the fact that I would never do that. That I could never do that. I have an obligation to be here, to get things done.

“Wy, you know I’d love to, but I’ve got work to do,” I say firmly while walking over to hang up my broom. Jupe huffs and brays at Wyatt as he walks briskly over to me.

“No you don’t. I made sure of it,” Wyatt says while grabbing my hands so I have no choice but to stand in front of him. “Willa’s told me to inform you that if you’re found working this afternoon, there’ll be severe consequences.”

At that, I know I have to oblige with Wyatt’s request. If Willa gave the all clear, there’s no reason for me to try and argue. One thing about the Buxtons is they’re nearly as strong-willed as the horses they hold. Not to mention it would be incredibly rude of me to not accept Willa’s generosity. This doesn’t stop me from letting Wyatt know exactly how I feel about him pulling me away from my work. I do so in colorful language the entire walk over to the house.

“You don’t even want to go riding with me, you just want me to be your guide,” I feign an accusation as we approach a small crowd of people on the large front deck of the Buxtons glorious ranch home. I see a few ranch hands and two other men that I don’t know, who must be Wyatt’s friends.

“You are the best guide out here.” His backhanded compliment earns him an eye roll. As we approach the house, he tells me to wait for a second while he calls over his friends. Their heads turn quickly to the two of us when Wyatt calls to them. They say hasty goodbyes to the staff they were chatting with before walking over to Wyatt and I. One is tall and pale, with pale eyes, and pale hair. His cheeks are flushed a slight pink from the chill that still hangs in the spring air. He looks lively and excited, his eyes bouncing around from one thing to another at lightning speed.

The other man is shorter with cropped, dark, curly hair. His hazel eyes are sharp and brilliant against his tanned skin. As he draws nearer, I can tell that he’s very physically fit. He’s wearing a tight long sleeve shirt that hugs his arms, brand new boot cut jeans, and a shiny pair of boots that have obviously never been worn. His eyes, unlike his friend, don’t wander while he walks over to us; they stay trained on me. A small smile falls across his pretty pink lips as he finds me watching him swagger his way over. He’s attractive.

“Never seen a British boy in cowboy boots before,” I say when they stop in front of us, glancing down at the brunette's footwear. When my eyes flick up to his, he still hasn’t stopped looking at me. Clearing my throat, I extend a hand to the blonde.

“Hi, y/n,” I introduce myself while shaking his hand.

“Mitchel,” he says, his accent is sharp and acutely German, which takes me by surprise. I nod, casting him a warm smile. I watch as Mitchel’s eyes flick to Wyatt over my shoulder. Following suit, I catch Wy smiling like a fool and a slight blush that I don’t think has anything to do with the weather coating his cheeks. When he sees me looking at him, he quickly crosses his arms and looks away. My smile widens. Mitchel drops my hand and then stuffs his back into his pockets.

“Y/n,” I say to Wyatt’s other friend who has a bit of a staring problem. He takes my hand in his slowly.

“Lando Norris,” He says crisply, his accent confirming my previous assessment. “Nice to finally meet you, y/n.”

His name catches in my mind, as if I’ve heard it before but I can’t place it. Wyatt must have mentioned him at some point, but for the life of me I can’t remember what about. A moment passes and our hands stay held together in the space between us as I try to place him. My eyes scan over his face and catalog his freckles and scars and the way his eyes sparkle when he smiles. When it dawns on me that I’m now the one with a staring problem, I swiftly pull my hand from his. Briefly, his jaw clenches.

“Finally, huh?” I take his previous statement and run with it. Turning my back to Lando, I glance over at Wyatt. “Just what have you been saying about me?”

“All good things, all good things,” Wy assures me while coming up to clasp me on the shoulder. He leans into me with a big smile that makes my stomach churn at the thought of what he’s actually told his friends. What does Lando think of me? Why does it matter what Lando thinks of me?

“Well,” I say quickly, trying to shake the thought of Lando from my head. “I suppose we should get going if we want to be back by sundown.”

The three boys nod their heads in agreement. The four of us walk over to the stables. Wyatt and Mitchel walk slowly behind me as they chit chat and laugh. Casting a glance over my shoulder at them, I watch as their shoulders bump together and their fingers brush intentionally. I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling. Wyatt’s alway had a hard time with romance and partnership just because of where we grew up and the hate he received for simply being himself. Seeing him this way, happy and smitten, makes me feel proud. It affirms that his leaving was necessary in so many ways.

“How long have you been working here?” Lando’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. My attention slides over to him. He’s come up to my left, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes are wide and curious as he looks at me. I can’t help but feel like I’m being analyzed.

“Seven years. But I’ve been on the ranch all my life. I took riding lessons from Willa and then became fast friends with Wyatt,” I tell him while pulling my eyes from his. Returning his gaze seems difficult, so I keep my eyes trained on the stable. He hums in acknowledgement of my response. I can feel his eyes on me still.

“Do you work at McLaren with Wyatt?” I ask my new acquaintance. He chuckles to himself a little, his pretty eyes squinting from his large smile.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he says, making me feel like I’m missing something. I scoff at his vague response, but don’t press the issue. If he wanted to explain himself, he would. His aura is interesting. He seems so sure of himself, completely at ease with who he is. It’s captivating.

We make it to the entrance of the stable and I instruct Lando and Mitchel to take a seat while Wyatt and I saddle up the horses. It takes us a while to get everyone ready for the trail ride, but with every passing minute, the more excited I get. Wyatt and I used to go out on the trails all the time. During the summer as teenagers, we would stuff our packs full of camping supplies and go for days at a time. Those memories are my most cherished possessions, things that I will never forget. Now whenever I take others up there, I feel as though I’m bearing a part of my soul to them.

Once we’re done getting everything ready, Wyatt leads his and Mitchel’s horses, Rudy and Molly, outside with Mitchel in tow. This leaves me alone with Lando. My stomach twists nervously when I feel his presence looming to my right.

“Ever ridden before?” I ask while petting Luna, a beautiful sorrel tovero paint. She’s older, but strong and steady, a good horse for a beginner.

“Yeah, loads,” Lando says while joining me in stroking Luna. I cast him a critical glance. If he sees it, he ignores me. Rolling my eyes, I really can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. It’s important to know what you’re doing while working with large animals. I make the mental note to keep him in my line of sight at all times while riding.

“Oh, good. Then you’ll be good to lead Ms. Luna out? She’s yours for the day,” I tell him while handing over the reins. I watch his adam's apple bob and his eyebrows lift slightly before nodding and accepting the reins from my hand. When his fingers brush over mine, goosebumps run across my arm. Quickly, I pull my hand away and turn towards Beau, my stallion for today. Fiddling aimlessly with his bridle, I wait until the steps of Luna and Lando have disappeared before releasing a breath. Leaning my forehead against Beau’s neck, I sigh at my stupid behavior. Am I really so touch starved that I get goosebumps at my finger brushing against his? That’s sad.

I take Beau’s reins in my hand and start leading him out to the waiting pack of boys. Just as I’m about to exit the stables, I look over at Jupe. He’s looking at me like he knows exactly what’s going on in my mind.

“Don’t give me attitude,” I tell him.

He just blinks at me.

Beau and I join everyone. Wyatt’s running Mitchel through the basics while Lando watches on. He’s pretending to not be listening by petting Luna and quietly talking to her, but I still catch the way he glances over when Wy demonstrates something. I walk around and do a quick double check on everyone’s gear before returning to Beau’s side. With the ease of muscle memory that I don’t think I’ll ever lose, I toss myself up and onto the saddle. Wyatt assists Mitchel into his saddle before climbing into his own. Lando glances over at me before sliding his foot into the stirrup and attempting to pull himself up. He looks out of his depth and slightly awkward as he hauls himself onto the saddle seat. Biting back a laugh, I click my tongue and squeeze my legs a little to get Beau to move for me. The two of us saunter up next to Lando. His easy continence is long gone, replaced by nerves and uncertainty. His hands shake as he grabs onto the reins incorrectly.

“Here, like this,” I correct while reaching out to his hands. My fingers pry his anxious fists open and fix where he’s holding the leather cord. I’m surprised to find calluses littering his palms, a mirror of my own. I maneuver his palm to rest in the right way so he doesn’t agitate Luna. I can feel Lando watching me as I touch and hold his hands. I’ve done this a hundred times when teaching lessons, but this is the first time that I feel an uncomfortable blush creeping onto my cheeks. Lando’s presence has me off axis, spinning out of my routine. I’ve known him for maybe an hour and he’s already getting under my skin.

“Just trust Luna, she knows the way,” I say quietly as I pull away from him. He bites at his lip but nods along with my words. Smiling as warmly as I can, I leave his side to ride up to Wyatt. However, I can’t help but glance back over my shoulder at him. He’s not looking at me, thankfully. Instead, his eyes are trained on his hands as he flexes them on the reins the way I showed him. His focus is endearing, almost cute.

But when his eyes rise to find mine, I snap my head forward in hopes that he didn’t catch me staring at him. The last thing I need is to develop some sort of childish crush on a stranger that I’ll never see again after a few days. I just have to keep my head down and my thoughts off of him.

“Time’s wasting!” Wyatt calls to me, letting me know that everyone is ready to go. Nodding, I take the lead while Wyatt falls to the back. We keep Mitchel and Lando between us so they don’t get caught straying off the path.

Going out for a ride is one of my favorite things. I love going into the mountains, walking along the thin paths, and enjoying the earth. As we go, I hear Mitchel and Wyatt quietly chatting at the back of the pack. However, once we get to the treeline, their voices fall away from my earshot. My senses are overcome by our surroundings. The budding trees are gorgeous as they filter the sunlight into sultry beams that fall onto the new grass along the sides of the gravel path.

“Beautiful,” I hear Lando speak for the first time since we left. I’ve been distracted thankfully, leaving me free from his effect on me. Now, though, I find myself turning to the side to look at him as he comes up next to me. I’m surprised to find him staring at me instead of the lively forest that hems us in. A thought that he might be making a comment about me instead of the scenery flashes through my mind. Quickly, I shove the absurd thought away and chalk it up to wishful thinking.

“It is,” I agree, giving him a small smile. He chuckles a little before turning to look around him. Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of him. Somehow he adds to the already perfect scene around me. His hair is being ruffled by the slight, cool breeze, which also lends his skin a gorgeous pink flush. Bright hazel eyes track the swishing branches and fluttering wildlife. His muscles are on display as he engages them to ride Luna. He looks less stiff than he did earlier, as if he’s finding himself at ease here. The idea makes me giddy. I find myself agreeing with Lando’s previous assessment. Beautiful.

“See something you like, cowgirl?” Lando laughs when he catches me staring at him yet again. My eyes go wide and my mouth parts as I scramble for a proper response, a defense, anything. There’s just something about him that makes it nearly impossible to look away. I think I’d like to be able to see him a lot more.

“Cowgirl?” Is all I can come up with. It’s not an inaccurate title, but the way he said it made it sound different. It was tacked onto his question almost like an endearment, or a tease. I laugh a little at his choice of words and the way it sounds in his accent.

“I see a lot of things I like, cowboy. You’ll have to be more specific,” I challenge. This successfully pulls a proper laugh from him. It’s the type of laugh that sends birds flying frantically from their perches and the creatures hidden in the grass scurrying away. It’s impossible to not laugh along with him. My heart flutters and I have to hold on tighter to my reins so I don’t fall off the saddle.

“I may be a lot of things, but I am no cowboy,” he corrects. I nod while continuing to laugh.

“I could have told you that,” I confirm while adjusting my hat.

“Oh really?” Lando says, urging me to explain myself. He tilts his head to the side while his mouth pulls into a closed lipped smile.

“If the brand new jeans and boots didn’t give you away, then you’re riding definitely does. You ride stiff as a board,” I inform him while glancing down at his boots and jeans. His denim clad thighs are tight around Luna’s middle, tense muscles visible through the fabric.

“Alright, teach me then,” he says, his free hand coming to rest on his hip. “Cowgirl.”

I roll my eyes at his words once again, but am resolved to help him nonetheless. There’s nothing like going out and being able to ride properly. I want to ask him why he lied to me about his experience with riding, but I don’t want to bruise his ego any further. Trying something new is challenging enough, and if he’s willing to learn, then I don’t want to jeopardize that.

“Keep sitting up straight, but relax your body. Your hips should shift back and forth in the seat a little. Don’t fight what feels natural. Just watch me,” I tell him. His eyes slide slowly from my face down to my hips. I watch as his eyes track my hips back and forth just slightly with Beau’s steps. Lando’s breathing goes uneven and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth. He’s staring at me like there’s nothing else he’d ever want to look at. It makes my heart race and nerves flutter in my stomach. I hadn’t really thought about the more sensual implications of having him watch my hips, but it seems rather obvious now. However, I don’t really mind the way he’s looking at me, or the way his focus is completely attuned to me. Selfishly, I really wish he wouldn’t look at anything else ever again. But that can’t happen.

“Eyes up, cowboy,” I tell him after a few more seconds of letting him watch. “Go ahead.”

Clearing his throat, he shifts a little in the saddle before settling in to do what I asked. I don’t miss the way he avoids looking me in the eye, as if he’s embarrassed. Have I flustered him? The thought makes me just a tiny bit proud. He doesn’t seem like the type to be flustered easily. He sits up straight and attempts to relax his body. His lower half starts to shift the right way, looking more natural and less jerky than before. Indulging myself, I watch for a few more seconds. I bite the inside of my cheek as he rocks back and forth in the saddle. My mind goes wandering to places that I shouldn’t be thinking about with a man I’ve only known for a day. Less than a day. And yet, I can’t stop myself.

“Maybe we’ll make a real cowboy out of you yet, Lando Norris,” I tell him after I’ve noticed improvements. His focus fractures and he looks over to me.

“I think I’d like that,” He shoots back, a sly smile accompanying his words. The look twists my stomach into nervous knots. There’s something about him, something intangible, that draws you in. Maybe it’s charm or charisma, or maybe it’s just the way he was made. Whatever the circumstances or reasons are, it’s not fair. I feel as though I have hardly a fighting chance to ward off any sort of desire that’s bubbling to the surface. I want to keep getting to know him; I want to teach him anything he asks; I want to never let go of the way he makes me feel.

The walk back to the ranch grounds is much faster than I would have liked. Lando chats with me the entire way back about this and that. He’s smart and funny and my chances of not having a crush on him grow slimmer with every passing minute I spend with him. When we get back to the stables, I find myself taking much longer than I normally would to put everything away. Mitchel and Wyatt decided that a fire would be the best way to end the night, so they ran out to get it started while Lando and I finished up with the horses. He tried his best to help, but kept getting distracted by visiting all of the stalls.

“Who’s this?” Lando says as I finish putting away the last saddle. I say a quick goodbye to Beau before heading down to the last stall near the open barn doors. Lando is standing in front of Jupe’s stall, his arms crossed over his chest. I stop next to him, leaving an appropriate amount of space between us, even though I want to come up right next to him and press my shoulder to his.

“This is Jupe. He’s our newest. Bit ornery, but a good boy,” I say while reaching my hand out to pat Jupe’s head. He brays at my touch, but doesn’t pull away. I give him a quick kiss on the nose and coddle him a little. Positive reinforcement does wonders.

“My turn,” Lando says from behind me. Astounded, I turn my face toward him. He’s insinuating that he wants me to kiss him. My brain short circuits at the thought. He’s just standing there with his arms still crossed over his chest and a stupid smile playing across his handsome face. I scoff at his joke, trying not to let on how much it affected me.

“Careful what you wish for, you might end up with a stall of your own,” I jab back. However, keeping him here doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“Being praised, kissed, and ridden by you? Sounds like these guys are living the dream,” Lando says. My jaw hangs loose as his words hit me like a freight train. Shock courses through me, leaving me beyond speechless. Is he being serious? Who says things like that? I blink at him, unsure of how to continue. I can’t lie and say that the images that popped into my head when he spoke were entirely unpleasant. If he’s being serious, there’s a lot to consider here. I could deny my feelings and spare myself the heartache. Or the alternative, which is letting my emotions get the better of me. This would mean that in a few days after spending time together, I would have to deal with heartbreak and come to terms with the fact that I’ll maybe never see him again. Or maybe I could, if there’s something really here. Maybe I have to give into hope for once. There’s never really been anyone who I’ve put ahead of my goals or dreams. I’ve never been tempted to stray from my path by anyone. Sure, I’ve gone out with guys, had a boyfriend for a while. But if something didn’t line up, I made cuts so my life would fit together how I needed it to. Suddenly now, as I stand here in this stable with a man I met only hours ago, I’m finding myself bending my rules for the first time. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my whole life.

“Alright, cowboy,” I say while taking a tentative step toward him, I’m ready to play this little game of his. His hands have fallen to his side, so I gently slide my fingers into his. Shining eyes lock onto mine. His tan skin is set aglow by the dying sunrise, highlighting the ridges and curves of his face. I want to memorize every freckle, every line, every corner of him. I’m lost in the way his hand feels around mine and in the way he’s looking at me, and I don’t ever want to find my way out. One of his fingers comes to the front of my hat and pushes the brim up. He draws closer now, his face mere inches from mine. His jaw flexes and his large neck muscles twitch with tension as he dips his head down just enough for his lips to hover over mine.

“We have a fire to get to,” I finish my earlier thought in a whisper. With hooded eyes, I look into his wide ones. Smiling smally, I step away from him. Adjusting my hat back to its original place, I begin walking out the door. Lando is hauled after me with my hand still grasped in his. Giddiness takes me over as I walk hand in hand with him towards the fire pit near the house. My small smile breaks into a much larger one as I pick up my pace, breaking into a jog. Lando’s hand clasps around mine tighter as he adjusts to the new pace. A laugh bubbles from my chest as I bring my free hand to hold onto my hat as I run harder. A sense of carefreeness has corrupted my usual serious disposition. Rarely do I feel as free as I do now. Lando’s lightness has infected me, and I can’t help but fall in love with how it’s buoyed my spirits. It feels like the first hit of a drug; it’s the type of high I’ll be chasing for the rest of my life.

As we approach the house, I can hear Wyatt’s laugh ring out from around the corner to the back. Just as we’re about to turn that last corner, Lando’s arms reach around my waist, stopping me from moving another inch. His chest hits my back with no small amount of force, tossing my hat from my head. I’m bent over in his arms as both of our laughs pull the last threads of air from our tired lungs. He hauls us both upright and my head falls back against his shoulder. I suck in a deep breath of the cool, dusk air. It cools me from the inside out. A feeling stirs deep in my stomach as I stare up into the sky while basking in the feeling of Lando’s arms wrapped around me.

Belonging.

It’s something I’ve been chasing my whole life; a sense of knowing where I belong and who I am. And now I feel as though I’ve finally found it: a home; a place to belong; a knowledge of exactly who I am.

Once we’ve regulated our breathing, I break out of his arms. Leaving them isn’t what I want, and as I pull away, I immediately feel much colder. However, we have to accompany Wyatt and Mitchel before they grow suspicious. Carefully, I pick up my hat, but don’t place it back on my head.

“Are you coming?” I ask quickly, tossing a glance to Lando over my shoulder. He shakes his head with a smile, but follows me around the corner without a word. Wyatt’s eyes find us over the roaring fire he’s built. Mitchel is seated right next to him on a log, a thick blanket spread over their laps. Between the warmth of the fire, the blanket, and the present company, I know that the nighttime chill won’t be able to touch me. As I approach Wyatt, he reaches to the side to pick up another blanket with a couple beers and s’mores supplies stacked on top. I accept it with a quick thank you before plopping down on the log next to them. Lando saunters after me, slowly taking a seat to my right.

“Hold this?” I ask while placing the blanket onto his lap. Gently, I set my hat down behind me, then reach over my shoulder to grab the end of my braid. I pull the elastic from the end and go about undoing the braid.

“So, Lando, how was the ride for you?” Wy asks as he brings his beer to his lips. My eyes are on the fire as he speaks, my mind slipping out of focus for a brief moment while I concentrate on my hair. But I’m aware of the fact that Lando doesn’t answer. When I turn to look at him, I find his eyes already on me, following my fingers as they finish pulling out my braid. I run my fingers through my roots to shake out the nasty hat hair that I undoubtedly have.

“Lando?” Wyatt laughs.

“What?” Lando says as he snaps out of his dazed state. His eyes go wide as they shift over to Wyatt who’s chuckling to himself. A goofy smile breaks across Lando’s face as Wyatt restates his question.

“I think I might have to switch professions,” Lando says, his eyes flicking down to me. The fire is lighting his skin with a warm glow. The flames flash lazily in his glossy eyes.

“I think it would be best for you to stick with McLaren,” I joke while cracking both of our cold beers. With a small smile, I hand over one of the bottles to a slightly offended Lando. Laughing to myself, I nudge his shoulder and click the neck of my beer to his. The liquid is cold and fresh against my lips, sending the perfect chill cascading down into my neck and chest.

“Yeah, mate, I think it’s best if you stay in the cockpit rather than the saddle,” Mitchel adds. “Play to your strengths and all that.”

The cockpit? As in the cockpit of a Formula One car? The realization hits me with all the grace of a drunk elephant. Lando Norris; I recognized his name earlier because Wyatt works as an engineer for a driver named Lando Norris. A Formula One driver named Lando Norris. With wide eyes, I stare forward into the fire. Every possibility that I’ve just dreamt up has suddenly become nothing but a fantasy. My body tenses as it physically revolts against my idiocy and naivety. Reality settles into my bones and I have to chide myself for being so stupid to ignore it for as long as I have. Not only did I ignore it, but I created a work of fiction where maybe we could end up together.

“Shit,” I hear Lando breathe next to me. His face is one I don’t recognize, one of seriousness. For the few hours that I’ve known him, which feel more like years, I haven’t seen him lose that little spark that makes him so him. Now it’s nowhere to be seen. He didn’t want me to know that he was a professional driver, one of the most elite in the whole world. It stings because I don’t understand exactly what his intentions were and it allowed me the space to concoct some seriously messed up notions. There’s no way that anything could happen between us now. It’s hard enough to maintain a friendship of years over an ocean with an engineer; imagine trying to hold together a relationship with a driver across continents and seas that constantly change. However, I can’t justify being angry with him. It is his life to be in the public eye constantly. If he came out here to not be recognized for a while and to be treated like just a normal guy, then who am I to deny him that. I just wish he would have given me the opportunity to do that with knowing who he really is. Now I’m stuck with feelings that I know won’t go away in a hurry and thorough embarrassment.

The rest of the night passes monotonously. Wyatt and Mitchel are wrapped up into their own little world, so they hardly notice the ever eroding gap that suddenly formed between Lando and I. We chat a little, but it’s not the same anymore. Roasting marshmallows has suddenly become my new favorite thing because it gives me an excuse to not look at him. I know that if I do, I’ll start to adore his curly hair and the scar over the bridge of his nose and the way that he looks right into your soul with his pretty eyes. I know that if I dare to look at him, I’ll start to believe in fiction once again. That’s not something I can allow; I won’t be the person who falls in love with the idea of something they can never have.

I won’t be the person that falls for someone they can never have.

Wyatt and Mitchel bid us goodnight before walking hand in hand into the house. Envy flares in my chest, jealousy turning my heart an ugly shade of green. The crackling of the dying fire and the rustling of wind through the grass and trees are the only things that greet my ears. Usually, I would be incredibly fond of this quietness. But now, it simply feels like a life sentence of silence. And once again, as the world turns to night, I feel the loneliness creep in at the edges. The night chill has crept into my fingers and toes, slowly creeping inward.

“I’m sorry,” Lando’s voice is gravelly from lack of use. “I should have…”

“You should have,” I agree. My voice isn’t harsh or condescending, it’s soft, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I understand, though. I just wish I had known before…”

My voice trails off and gets blown away with the smoke that floats lazily into the atmosphere. Clouds have collected across the sky, cutting the stars from our view. With a melancholy heart, I can’t help but admit how fitting that is. I suppose we really weren’t written in the stars. We are the opposite of destined.

Lando’s hand wraps around my cold fingers, but instead of warming me, it burns. The kiss he leaves on my knuckles feels as though my hand was dipped into the embers of a fire. Blinking back the prick in my eyes from impending tears, I watch his face fall into a frown. I hate the way his eyebrows are creased in the middle and the concern that’s painfully evident in his stubborn eyes. It’s not the look I wanted from him tonight. It’s not the face that’s become my brand new favorite. It’s not Lando.

“How long are you staying for?” I find myself asking. I have to know how long I’ll have to endure his presence. But what’s worse: having him here and knowing I can’t have him, or watching him leave and knowing that I’ll never have him?

“We leave on Monday,” he says. Just for the weekend then. I’ll only have to see him on Monday and then I’ll be free of him. I know he’ll torment me in my sleep, when I see someone walking down the street who looks a little like him, when I look at Luna. I’ll never truly escape him.

“Alright,” I mumble. A beat passes without any more conversation. Then Lando’s hand is slipping under my hair and around the side of my neck. My head turns toward him, his touch unprompted and sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin.

“I’m sorry, but I have to know. Just once and then we can put it away forever. Alright?” He’s closing that gap between us, both physically and emotionally. His face slows as it hovers in front of mine. My breathing has ceased and fear has seized my heart. Is this the right thing to do? Or will it make it worse?

“Alright,” I find myself agreeing without thinking. Maybe I have to know, too, if this is everything I think it is; if this really is everything that I’m losing.

His kiss is light at first, lips just barely brushing mine. It’s soft and gentle as he uses his hand to bring my face closer to his. When his lips are fully on mine, my mind bursts into stars and streams of color. He kisses me with quiet passion, slow and strong. That belonging that I felt when he had his arms around me flares back to life in my chest. His fingers flex under my jaw, holding onto me tighter like he’s scared I’ll slip out of his grip. Which I am. When we break away from our first and last kiss, I feel as we filter through each other’s fingertips. We’re lost now, never to be found.

A crack in my chest sends me to my feet. Tears suddenly blur my vision.

“Goodbye, Lando,” I find myself saying, my words taking every bit of strength I have left. As I turn away from him for the last time, I find myself wishing I'd have said no to his kiss. As I walk away from him for the last time, I know now that I’m losing the one real thing I’ve ever known.

The truth is he isn’t a cowboy like me.

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erosmutt · 5 months

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☆ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇꜱᴛ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ⨾ 𝗛𝗮𝘆𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗻

𖦹 dddne: incest ⋆ dad!hayden x daughter!reader

☆ HAPPY BELATED HAYDEN DAY !

You skip down the stairs happily, backpack over your shoulder as you hurriedly make your way to the front doors. You took the train to school that morning, so you hadn’t seen him all day. Your absolute favorite person - your dad, Hayden. When you pushed the door open, you saw him there, waiting for you, cigarette between his fingers and phone up to his ear as he paced at the car.

With a bright smile, you run to him, catching him by surprise. He must’ve been very into the conversation if he didn’t hear the sound of your Mary Janes against the pavement. He looks down at you and gives a quick smile, then takes a pull from his cig. Is whoever’s on the phone really that important?

“Dad…” You begin, tugging gently on one of the lapels on his coat. He ignores you, making you scrunch your nose in irritation. “Dad,” You tug again, and he gives you a ‘wait a minute’ look. You let out a huff, and begin to pick the little fuzzies off his wool coat.

Once he finally hangs up, he can’t even speak before you’re chewing him out. “I haven’t seen you all day, and you’re ignoring me!” He sighs and gives you a half-smile. “I know, sweets. I was on the phone with your mom.” Oh. That’s why he looked so pissed.

“What did she want?” You ask curiously as Hayden takes your bag, setting it in the back. His cig was long discarded, crushed on the curb. “What does she ever want? She apparently called to wish me a Happy Birthday and we nearly ended up in a yelling match." He opens the passenger door for you, watching as you get in. Once in, he leans over you and puts your seatbelt on for you. You were 18, fully capable of doing it yourself, but he’d always done this since you were small. He’d always given you princess treatment.

You watch as he closes the door and walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side. As soon as he’s in the car, you begin again. “You know what today is, right?” You ask, kicking your feet with the allowed space. He clicks his belt in, and starts the car. “Mm, do I?” He smiles weakly, adjusting himself in his seat. You could tell the conversation he had with your mother - whatever was said in it - really had him discombobulated. He would always give you his full attention. Well, ¾ of it when he was driving.

“Yeah.” Your mood was beginning to dampen. You reach down and pick at a string on your navy blue skirt. “Your birthday.” He nods, giving a soft hum in response as he pulls off. “My birthday.” He sighs and relaxes in his seat, left hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console. “Don’t sound so bummed, honey. When people get older, they just don’t get as excited about their birthdays as you guys.” You lay your head against the window, looking out at the buildings that blur past. It was an overcast day anyway. Maybe it just wasn’t supposed to be a celebratory day.

Once you two were home, he went to the kitchen while you went up to your room. You had planned a whole thing - bought pretty underwear, planned on making a cake together with him. You hear him call to you from the bottom of the stairs. “How does takeout sound, kiddo?” He isn't using his nicknames for you. 'Sweets,' 'Princess,' 'Honey'… They always make you giggle and blush, no matter what. How can you get into the mood if he isn’t entertaining you?

You come out of your room clad in your white tights and bra, hands resting gently on the doorway. “Just get whatever, I don’t care.” You see his eyes flicker down to your chest, then back up to your face. “How about pizza? Chinese, maybe?” Once more, he glances at your chest, then back up to your face. You shrug once more. “Just whatever.” You repeat, making his face fall. “You have to work with me, sweets. You know how you get. I get something you don’t like, you make me drive you 40 minutes for something outlandish. Like kebabs.” You would have giggled if you weren't so bummed.

“Just get pepperoni.” As you retreat back into your room, Hayden comes up the stairs and follows after you. He looks around your room - at the posters on the wall, the fairy lights strung along your headboard, and the picture of you two on your vanity. He plops down on your plush bed, leaning back on his hands as he watches you shimmy out of your tights. “What’s wrong?”

You toss them, fabric flowing through the air and landing on the bed, just missing your dad’s thigh. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You dismiss him quickly, making him sigh exasperatedly. “If you don’t talk about it, I can’t figure out what’s wrong, and won’t be able to help you, sweets. So, come on.” He sits up and pats his lap. “Lay it on me.”

This was too good to be true.

Hesitantly, now in your bra and panties, you perch yourself on his thigh. He reaches down and puts your legs over his lap, other arm wrapping around your midsection. “Tell me all about it.” He was giving you that pretty, pretty smile. You mirror it. Everyone always told you - you smile just like your dad.

“I just thought you’d be more excited for your birthday, dad.” You murmur. The clock on the wall ticks, seconds going by before your dad gives your side a gentle squeeze; But he doesn’t speak. You continue, “I miss when I was little. You’d let me throw you birthday tea parties with all my plushies, and we’d have those nasty artificial store-bought cupcakes with the red frosting. Is red even still your favorite color?” He chuckles. “It is.”

A handful more seconds pass. You two just stare at each other. You swallow down your growing anxiety. “I want to do something more for you… But I can’t if you don’t let me, you know.” He pulls you up further onto his lap. “What did you have in mind, sweets?” He murmurs softly, hand coming to cup your face, thumb rubbing gently across your rosy cheek. You lean into his touch, biting at your bottom lip. “Can I show you?” When he nods, you slink off his lap, and point to the seat of your vanity. “Sit there, and close your eyes.” His brows furrow in confusion, but he obeys your command, going over to the small pink-cushioned bench.

He heard a shit ton of rustling and shuffling before hearing your bed gently creak in protest underneath your weight, followed by a gentle exhale. “You can open them now dad.” Boy, when he did, the sight that greeted him caught him off guard immensely.

You. In the nude, legs spread wide, a pink jelly dildo in your hand. “Honey,” You shake your head. “Hush. Just watch, okay?” He couldn’t refuse his little girl. He swallows and licks his lips, hands resting flat on his thighs. The tip of the dildo rubs up and down your slit, makes a little circle over your clit, then slides back down. He didn’t dare look away.

Never in his life would he admit he’d gotten himself off to the thought of his daughter like this - never before now, at least. Your lithe, youthful, supple body had enraptured him for who knows how long, but all he could do was listen through the wall during nights you pleasured yourself, falsely assuming your dad was sleeping.

“Hnn…” He hadn’t even noticed that the fake cock was a fourth of the way in your tiny virgin pussy. He’d kill to be in its place.

You couldn’t help but feel filled with cocky satisfaction at the sight of your father’s cock hardening along his thigh. It was a dream come true. Ever since you were just a girl, you’d had a crush on your dad. Whenever he’d pick you up and spin you around, your little feet would kick and a happy giggle would leave your lips, and he’d press a kiss to each of your pink cheeks, big hands on your waist and pretty eyes fixed on yours.

Hayden’s hand absentmindedly begins to palm his cock through his jeans. “Dad,” You drawl, the sound of your gentle plea accompanied by the lewd squelch of your pussy getting penetrated by the 8 inch dildo he had no idea you even owned until today. “You bought that for me? Just for me?” He asks, legs spreading as he fumbles with his button and zipper. You nod, toes curling and eyes closing shut. “Jus’ for you,” The poor man wasn’t strong enough for this! He’d been single for years, and jacking off wasn’t cutting it. Now one of his biggest fantasies was soon to come true - getting to fuck his pretty, barely legal daughter.

Once his cock is free from the stuffy confines of his jeans, he quickly finds the matching rhythm, and pumps his cock to the strokes of the jelly dildo going in and out of your cunt. “God,” He rasps, eyes half-lidded as he watches your face contort in pleasure. Eyes rolled back, lips parted. Perfection.

“Gonna cum,” You gasp, squirming about on the bed. “Gonna cum, dad.” He bucks his hips up into his hand, eyes trained on your glistening folds. “Keep going sweets,” His voice was strained, cheeks flushed. “Like that - shit, just like that.” You whine softly, back arching up off the bed as you throw your head back. “Wan’ you to cum in me,”

He wastes no time in getting up and making his way to you. He grabs your ankles and snatches you to the end of the bed, taking the dildo out and away from you, discarding it on the bed next to you. “Fuck,” He guides his cock into your entrance, knees nearly buckling at the sensation of your gummy walls enveloping him. It’d been so long since he’d been inside a woman.

“Inside you,” He repeats after you, leaning down to cup your face. “Inside you?” You nod eagerly, reaching up and tangling your hands in his curls. Both of your faces were flushed, sweat dampening your foreheads. “Nowhere else.” You whisper. Neither of you broke eye contact - refusing to. Unable to.

Hayden’s hips stutter as his eyes flutter closed. His seed spurted into you, the most he’s ever cum in months. “Ohhh…” he swallows, trying to catch his breath. You play in his curls, both of you basking in the afterglow of a dream come true.

“My little girl,” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Always giving the best gifts.” His voice is now a whisper as he gently rubs your red cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “This is the best one so far, I think.”

He stands straight and looks down, slowly pulling his softening penis out of you. A shaky exhale along with a shudder is his reaction at the sight of you pushing his warm load out of your hole. “Good girl,” He whispers as he runs his hands through his hair. “The best girl.” You smile brightly as you lay your head back.

“Happy Birthday, daddy.”

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live-love-be-unique · 1 year

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Put your sweet lips on my lips

Summary: when your dad invites his new boss and his family for dinner you had no idea you’d be spending the evening with your high school crush and sharing a hot encounter in your home library with your parents downstairs.

Parings: Steve Harrington x freader

Warnings: sexual content (18+ minors dni), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving)

18+ Minors DNI

“Now remember, tonight is a very important night for your father” your mother says, tying a pink ribbon into your hair. She’d chosen everything for you and your dad to wear tonight, you all had to impress “We need to make a good impression” your dad had gotten a promotion and your parents had invited your dad’s new boss and his family for dinner and your mother was obsessed with making sure everything was picture perfect.

“Honey, Where’s my tie?” Your dad’s deep voice sounded down the hallway, as he walked into your room, buttoning his shirt. “Really Richard” your mother huffed as she went to find the tie that she had so carefully laid out for him on their dresser this morning.

“You look beautiful, peanut” he said warmly as you looked over at yourself in the mirror, hands smoothing down over the skirt of the dress your mother had picked out for you to wear tonight.

“Thanks Dad” you smiled as he kissed the top of your head. Your mother walked back into your room, helping your dad put his tie on.

“I bought two bottles of champagne, do you think that will be enough?” Your mother fussed about, going over everything as you and your dad followed her into the living room.

“It will be perfect, Mary” your father soothed, placing a gentle kiss on your mother's temple.

A sharp knock at the door broke the sweet moment. Your parents stood in front of the large mirror by the front door and made sure they looked as polished as possible, your mother smoothing a few invisible flyaways from your hair before your dad opened the front door, a beaming smile gracing his face. “Mr Harrington” he said warmly, shaking the other man’s hand.

Your dad ushered the Harringtons into your home, introducing them to you and your mother “and this must be young Steve?” Your father said, noticing the younger man as he walked through the front door.

If only your teenage self could be here right now, she’d have a fit! Your high school crush Steve Harrington was standing in your living room, shaking hands with your dad and making small talk with your mother. He looked like the kind of boy you would find in a Teen Beat magazine, with his pretty eyes and perfect hair and his easy smile just dripping with charm.

Then Steve turns and smiles at you as he says your name and oh shit, it’s not just a high school crush anymore.

Your mother ushered everyone towards the dining room as dinner was served, she’d spent all day on the perfect dinner party menu of Niçoise salad, steak diane and an amaretto brûlée for dessert.

Your dad was right of course, the night was going off without a hitch, your parents and the Harringtons getting along like a house on fire.

After dinner everyone had made their way to the living room with wines and port to relax, reminiscing about their youths; telling tales of escapades they had gotten up too, you’d stayed behind cleaning up the dinnerware and taking it to the kitchen. As your dad asked Steve his plans for the future you snuck off to your dad’s small office that housed your family’s library of books. That’s where he found you, leaning against shelves flipping through a book.

“So this is where you’re hiding?” Steve says, ditching his sports jacket onto the small desk by the door.

“Dinner parties aren’t really my thing” you chuckled.

“Mine either, too much schmoozing and trying to impress people” he smirks, falling into the large plush armchair, arm draped over the back, “I remember you, from school, you know”

“You do?”

“Sure, you sat up the back of Mrs Potter’s class. You always had your head in a book” Steve said, nodding his head towards the shelves of books that littered the room.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me, I wasn’t exactly memorable”

“Of course I would” he muttered, picking at a thread on one of the cushions. “So, what are you reading?” He gestured to the book in your hands.

Realizing you’d picked up one of your mothers Harlequin romance novels, something about a mountain man and his mail order bride, you tried to hide the cover of the novel against your chest, crossing your arms over it in an effort to avoid further embarrassment.

“Come on” Steve smirked, standing up and strolling closer to you “show me” he’d seen the blush that coloured your cheeks “it’s a dirty book, isn’t it?!”

“It’s not mine” you protested as he grabbed the book from your hands and opened it to the page you were on.

It was now Steve’s turn to blush, the page you were reading was of course one of the more raunchy chapters in the book.

“This is what you like huh? He pushed her against the wall, his large hands gripping her tight as she felt his large…” he read a line from the open page as you reached for the book.

Steve moved to hold the book away from you as he kept reading, he was a full head taller then you so he had no trouble. In the struggle you ended up between Steve and the bookshelf, one of his large warm hands holding your hip tightly as his deep brown eyes bore down on you with intensity.

“Tell me to stop and I will. Just say the word and I’ll walk away” you didn’t say a word, you couldn’t say anything, not with the way Steve was looking at you.

One of Steve’s hands moved to cup your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you. Body pressing against you as he deepened the kiss. His lips combined with his hands traveling all over your body causing all thoughts to leave your head except for one, Steve.

One of his large, warm hands grasps onto your thigh, hoisting it up against his hip as he looks into your eyes, silently questioning if you want to continue. You nod, not trusting your voice.

He slides a hand up underneath your skirt, fingers dancing up along your thighs and he maneuvers he trails his fingers along the lace on the outside of your underwear, teasing you. He finally touches the growing wet spot between your legs and over your underwear and then he dips his fingers inside you causing you to gasp. His lips pressed against the skin of your collarbone while he continues to slide his fingers in and out of you at a torturously slow pace that made you lose your mind.

“Steve?” You gasped as he kissed his way across your face and down your neck. You gripped him tighter as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Yeah baby?” He groans against your skin.

“I…I need…” your brain couldn’t form a coherent thought, not with the way Steve’s hands roamed over your body, setting every nerve on fire and not with the way his lips felt against your neck.

“I know, I know, I’ve got you baby”

Then Steve sinks to his knees and gazes up at you with those deep brown eyes, watching your every reaction as he lifts your skirt and bunches it around your waist, he drags your underwear down your legs and Steve groans as his warm hands keep your thighs spread open for him “You’re so pretty, you know that, baby?”

You watch as he licks his lips and stares at your body like he’s about to have the most delicious meal ever, savoring the sight of you like he’s got all day to do it, the raucous laughter of your parents drowned out by your heart beating out of your chest.

“Keep your eyes on me” he breathed and places soft kisses to your hips.“please I need to see you” he teases you with his tongue, moaning at the taste of you, your hands are in his hair holding him against you. You moan his name in a fractured sigh, with your other hand you lace your fingers together with his at your hip. You don't even care that your parents are downstairs, the only thing you can think about is him. and, fuck, it feels so good.

Steve eats you out like he’s a man starved, like he’s drunk on your taste. Threading your fingers through his hair, gripping a little as he moans into you.

“That’s it baby, I need to hear you” oh god, he’s so good at this You think as you arch your back needing to feel him even closer if that was possible.

All at once you feel the familiar knot in your belly tightening and you have to bite your hand to stop from crying out Steve’s name as stars explode behind your eyelids.

Steve places gentle kisses on your thighs as you come down from your impossible high. “Oh my god” you giggled breathlessly as Steve stood up in front of you grinning, eyes darkened with lust.

“I hope that was better than your book” Steve smirked and leaned in for another heated kiss as your parents called for you, the Harringtons were leaving.

“Now remember” Mrs Harrington said to your mother as you and Steve rejoined your parents “dinner is at our house next weekend, and don’t you bring a thing!” The two women laughed as you and Steve shared a look.

Another dinner party, you thought to yourself the perfect opportunity for me to return the favor.

Taglist: @m-blasterrr, @mvnsonslvt, @neymac21174, @maybe-not-this, @seatnights, @wheezyhyperfixates, @grunge-the-freak, @ettadear, @artsyfartsytheaterkid, @lma1986

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x female reader smut

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fayes-fics · 7 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 9 - Partance

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: A tiny touch of spice... some making out, celebrations and some more late-night confessions.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is when we find out if their whole gamble pays off... Happy Valentine’s Day! This is my gift to you 🫶 Also, be warned that the rating will increase in the next chapter. 😉 Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939

You awaken early to the smell of fresh coffee brewing. A glance into the living room, as you wander downstairs towards the enticing scent, shows the sofa is already rearranged and blankets neatly stowed, as if not slept on at all - a little twinge behind your ribs at Benedict’s forethought around the ruse you shared a bed last night.

Almost reluctant, you enter the kitchen, and there he is, pouring two cups from the cafetière, the sunlight catching the ring on his finger as he does so. Your husband. Benedict Bridgerton. He twists, and you see he is wearing glasses, taking you by surprise. On the table, you spy a newspaper open. You are momentarily embarrassed that you are married to a man you know so little about; you didn't even know he wore reading glasses.

“Good morning,” his greeting is soft but apprehensive.

“Good morning,” you mumble back, taking the proffered cup from him without quite letting your fingers touch.

Guilt eats at your soul as you take a seat, the creak of the old chair as you sit down seeming so loud in the otherwise silent room - guilt about pushing him too far with kissing, guilt about your confession, as if you burdened his sleeping subconscious with an unfair weight. It makes the need to talk about anything else bubble up within you.

“I had an idea,” you break the silence as he takes a seat. He says nothing in response, just looks at you expectantly. “We could pretend our relationship developed long distance. Say that we met through Eloise a few years ago? But were both with other people at the time. Perhaps we wrote to each other and, over time, grew close? I thought we could write some ‘fake’ love letters this morning. Fold them up, make them look a little old and creased, you know, and then exchange? Carry the letters as if we truly sent them to each other. It doesn't have to be many. Maybe 3 or 4? Backdated, of course.”

As you talk, his face lights up. “It’s brilliant!” he enthuses quietly, whipping off his glasses. “It's the perfect explanation! Then it makes sense I rush to Paris to rescue you! And my sister. The outbreak of war made me realise what you truly mean to me,” he spitballs, talking fast, gesturing animatedly. “It would explain our whirlwind marriage too - that we couldn't live another day apart without…. without being together with the looming uncertainty of war.”

His chair drags loudly across the tile as he stands up rapidly, grabs your hands, and hauls you up and into an embrace, lifting you off the ground and twirling around—a spontaneous celebration.

“You are brilliant!” he exclaims fervently, and then your lips find each other impromptu. A kiss that starts as a mere brush to seal the pact rapidly morphs into something else. Before you know it, your mouths are open, tongues tangled, and he is hoisting you higher in his arms, his hands grabbing your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your nightgown rides up to your hips, the heat of his pelvis crushed against yours through thin cotton pyjamas….

And that is the sight which greets the returning homeowners and Eloise.

A loud squeak from Marie has you rocketing apart, sliding down his torso back to your feet, cheeks aflame. But it's too late. There is no way to deny what they walked in upon-–you wrapped around Benedict’s body as you kiss fiercely.

“Wow… I miss that passion,” Jerome wisecracks in a bid to break the tension.

Although she is silent, the look on Eloise’s face is one you won't soon forget—shock, abhorrence but a streak of inquisition, as if taking on new information and filing it away.

You and Benedict both mutter apologies in unison, which seems to charm your hosts even more into good-natured joshing as they unpack croissants and jams from a wicker basket.

“A breakfast for our newlyweds,” Marie chimes with a wink. “I’m sure you need sustenance after a night like yours.”

In some ways, although mortifying, you cannot deny the cinch they caught you in does not exactly hurt the illusion of you being a real couple.

And so you all take a seat and begin breakfast together. Each treat on the table is delicious, and the conversation flows easily.

“You do know Solene will be mad she was not invited to the wedding,” Eloise remarks offhand at one point.

“Pssh! Let me deal with my sister,” Marie counters with an almost stereotypical Gallic shrug and a dismissive chuckle.

—

With a couple of hours until your sailing, you pack the few things you unpacked in the last couple of days and then turn to letter writing as Eloise reads. You sit outside, a delicate breeze over your sleeves as Benedict joins you. You agree on some dates and then fall silent as you pick up pen and paper and compose letters.

Yours don't feel sophisticated, but they feel honest - writing about actual events back home and more recently in Paris to lend an air of believability, interspersed with words of affection, longing, and hope to be reunited. Your final letter is dated the day war was declared, expressing a need to see him as soon as possible.

You have no idea what Benedict is writing, but his intensity and speed impress you, pages seeming to pile up around his elbows as you see glimpses of his elegant, looped script.

“I just have much to say, that’s all,” he responds, somewhat enigmatic when you express your concern that his letters appear much longer than yours.

—

Before you know it, Jerome and Marie are dropping you off at the port in Le Havre, hugging you all so tightly with promises of letters, telegrams, and phone calls. You will certainly miss them and Solene; they have been so welcoming to you, even for such a short period.

Benedict wraps an arm around your shoulder as a porter loads your cases onto a trolley and accompanies you to the boarding queue.

“Just like we practised,” he turns his head and murmurs into your ear so only you hear.

And then he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you, instantly opening your mouth under his, your pulse racing even among the crowd.

“Do you mind?” Eloises hisses, disgust evident on her face.

Breaking the kiss, you giggle and bury your face in Benedict's shoulder as he shoots her his trademark elder brother look of derision.

“Do you want your best friend to come with us to England or not, sister? Because we have to look married and madly in love,” he points out, his arm stroking your back.

“You don't have to swallow her face,” Eloise grouses, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes as she pouts, looking aside.

“The more convincing, the better,” he counters, but their dispute is interrupted by your being called forward to the desk.

After asking for your tickets and passport, the surly young man looks at your passport and frowns.

“Are you planning to remain in the UK?” His ask is terse.

“Yes,” you reply, clear but polite.

“Reason?”

“She is my wife,” Benedict cuts in, that arm back across your shoulders.

“Do you have proof?” the man looks sceptical.

Benedict produces the marriage certificate from a folio in his case.

The man scans the document, his frown deepening. “You got married yesterday?” His questioning tone raises the attention of others nearby.

Your heart leaps into your mouth as a face you recognise materialises from behind a glass office. It's Theo Sharpe - the young soldier Eloise met in the bistro a few days ago.

“Is there a problem here, Jones?” he asks with an official tone.

“These two just got married. I have concerns…”

Theo peers at Benedict and you as if assessing you as a couple.

“What sort of concerns? They look in love to me…”

“We have letters!” you pipe up, nerves jangling.

“Letters?”

“Love letters we have written to each other over the months.” Benedict takes over. “When war broke out, I had to come and rescue the woman I loved. And then I could not resist proposing. And yes, we married yesterday. Sirs, you likely know better than anyone - war brings clarity to a man’s heart like nothing else. I could not go another day without her being my wife…” his speech is reserved but impassioned, and when he is done, he tucks you under his arm, kissing your forehead.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eloise frown as he hands over your letters, and you do the same with his from your handbag. Theo takes the pile and unfolds them, his eyebrow rising at something in one from Benedict’s pile.

“Jones, tell me that is not the sign of a man in love,” he tilts the page to his fellow soldier, seemingly pointing to a particular line.

The man coughs and runs a finger into his collar. “Oh… well… yes…” he seems to stumble, his cheeks heating.

What on earth did Benedict write?

“I think we can safely say they are a real couple, can't we?” Theo argues, refolding the letters and handing them back to you.

“Yes, yes, I think so…” the man agrees hesitantly.

“Well then, please issue the lady with the paperwork for residency,” Theo prompts, almost impatient.

You can barely contain the furl of excitement as the man dutifully grabs an official certificate and transfers your details, passing it under an embossing stamp and placing it inside your passport.

“Welcome to the United Kingdom, Mrs Bridgerton,” he smiles tightly as you see Theo shoot Eloise the briefest of winks behind the man’s back.

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, almost stunned into a quiet silence, as again you are in Benedict's strong embrace.

“Well done, you were perfect,” he assures a few moments later as you walk up the ramp onto the ferry, his arms never having left your shoulders since.

With reality finally setting in, relief and elation radiate from inside - like the sunny day seeping into your being, making you feel the lightest you have felt in weeks. You can't help the grin you shoot him and drop a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“All thanks to you,” you demure as you cross onto the deck, “I owe you my life.”

“You owe me no such thing,” he counters immediately and sincerely. “Your idea - the letters - that is what sealed your future. You are much smarter and stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he adds, his tone ardent, a hand tenderly cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes your cheek.

Again, you find yourself lost in his eyes.

“God’s sake, you can quit the mooning now, you idiots,” Eloise gripes and elbows Benedict unceremoniously out of the way, drawing you into a bear hug. “I’m so happy!” she chimes into your ear.

“Me too,” you reply, laughing joyously, hugging her back as fiercely.

“I may have planned for this,” she winks, withdrawing to pull a bottle of champagne from her bag with a flourish.

And so, as the ferry pulls out of port and enters the English Channel, the three of you raise a toast to France as you watch the shoreline slip away. A kaleidoscope of emotions washing over you - a bittersweet farewell to your all-too-short French adventure, but also excitement and apprehension for the start of something new. A stay in England. And a new husband, well, sort of. For the first time, the future feels completely unwritten in a way that is freeing.

—

When you arrive in Portsmouth that evening, you immediately head for the stately Royal Maritime Hotel by the port. But there is a snag when you get to the check-in desk. The late hour and no reservation means only one room is left—with one double bed.

“I will sleep on the floor,” Benedict offers, ever the gentleman, as you all accept the room, knowing it's likely a similar story in all the other hotels with this many people escaping mainland Europe.

After dropping your luggage, you all head to dinner, which becomes drinks in a local bar, all of you wanting the celebratory mood to last a little longer. You nurse just one drink while Eloise seems determined to drain the port city dry, tipsily wandering off to the little dancefloor in the back room.

At some later point, while Benedict is at the bar paying the tab, Eloise returns, sidling up to your seat and loops her arms around you.

“You know how much I love you…?”

“What do you want, Eloise?” you chuckle, patting her elbow as you let her sway you with her hug.

“I've met someone,” she whispers excitedly, her breath sweetened by brandy, “and I realllllly like him. His name is Phillip. He’s lovellllyyy,” she singsongs.

“That's nice. But what does that have to do with me?” you ask, amused.

“If I were to spend the evening with him, would that be okay? With you?”

“You've never asked my permission to enjoy your previous dalliances, El; why now?” You are finding her thoroughly entertaining.

“Becaaaaause it means you will be stuck alone in a room with my brother,” she spells out. “And no woman should have to endure that,” she counsels with faux gravity, only mildly undermined by her comedic look of horror.

Your stomach vaults at the idea of a night alone with Benedict in a hotel room, but you must school your face to one of casual indifference.

“El, I shared a cottage with him last night; I think I can handle it.”

“Oh yes… and what in God's name was this morning all about?” she suddenly shifts the topic, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

You do your best not to choke on your sip of cocktail. “We saw you all coming up the path. Benedict thought it best for the ruse if we were caught in a compromising situation,” you bluff, waving your hand dismissively, even as you feel your cheeks glowing at the mere memory.

She side-eyes you momentarily but seems to accept it, giving you one more squeeze before bidding you goodnight. Her farewell to Benedict at the bar appears to be a smack on the arm and a warning with a pointed finger—ever the loving siblings. Then, with a flutter of butterflies under your ribs about the night ahead, you and Benedict head back to the hotel.

“Thank you again,” your tone is sincere as he unlocks the room. “If we had only known Theo would be at the port, maybe we wouldn't have had to go through all we did,” you point out wincingly, still apologetic, as he secures the door closed.

“We did what we had to. We were very fortunate he was there today; it was a wonderful coincidence, but we had to prepare for any circumstance. Besides, it is all water under the bridge now. You have your paperwork. You have your residency,” he points out brightly.

“But you had to marry me….” you point out, unable to let it go, guilt still shadowing your heart. “That was a huge sacrifice.”

“I am not the one who had to break a promise to another,” he counters softly. “You had to be the brave one here. You should not think of yourself as selfish. And you should feel free to pursue whatever you want in this world, y/n.”

Something in the choice of words in his heartfelt petition seems oddly reminiscent, but you cannot pinpoint it.

“I will still sleep on the floor,” he adds reassuringly, removing his coat.

“We… we could share…?” you feel your heart pound as you extend the tentative offer.

The look on his face is indecipherable, but you don't miss how his pupils dilate a fraction. “I promise not to kick…” his response is a genial callback to your discussion days ago.

You giggle, feeling that lightness in your being again. “And if you do, I’m sure I could find plenty of rope to remedy that. We are right by a port after all,” you can't help but banter back, gesturing to the harbour outside the window.

His responding warm laugh is like a balm.

He excuses himself to shower, and while he is gone, you unpack some basics. As you are delving in your bag for your hairbrush, the pile of letters Benedict handed you spills out.

Intrigued, you unfold them—curious to know what Theo had seen. The letters are a thing of beauty; you find yourself crawling onto the bed to read them properly. Pages of lyrically crafted praise that make your correspondence seem entirely lacking, more akin to a boring newsletter. You find yourself swept up in reading - lines of poetry, yearning sentiments and a few racier epithets that make your breath catch and your blood run hot.

‘Every night since we met, my love, I dream of nothing but you. Endlessly. I dream of your laugh, your smile, that wonderful little crease on your forehead when you think I am being foolish. You captivate me - body and soul. I dream of that delectable noise you make when I kiss you. I dream of tasting your skin. I dream of you coming apart in my arms, grasping me so tight you leave finger marks on my body. One day, my love, one day…’

You almost jump out of your skin when Benedict reenters the room, freshly showered, his hair in damp curls, sporting a distractingly fitted white t-shirt. You attempt to conceal what you are reading, embarrassed somehow, but it’s too late.

“I was wondering if you would,” he laughs softly when he realises.

“I’m sorry,” you utter, feeling as if you have snooped somewhere you should not have.

“Don't be,” he cuts in, smiling gently.

“How did you think up such poetic stuff?” you query, fingertips tracing almost reverentially over the words. A wistful ache in your being, hoping anyone would ever be inspired to write such an elegy to you one day.

“I just told the truth,” he shrugs.

“You must’ve been in love with whoever has made you feel like this in the past,” you sigh, standing up to put the letters aside on a table, feeling as if they definitely do not belong to you. Conscious of the slim band around your left ring finger, like a guilty weight stopping him from that possible life.

There is a long pause, making you look up at him. He is drawing near, something profound burning in his expression.

“You,” he breathes finally. “You inspired this in me.”

The confession knocks the breath from your very lungs, almost a need to bend double.

“Wh….” you cannot even find enough voice to finish a simple word.

He moves closer until you are almost touching.

“I heard you…” he admits softly, his fingers encircling your wrist, then bringing your hand close to his face. “Last night, when you thought I was asleep…” a plunge of utter dread in your stomach as you realise what he means. Your confession.

Oh no.

“Benedict, I….” but you can't finish. There is no end to that sentence, even in your quick mind.

“So I thought it was only fair you have mine,” he continues, a flicker of a modest but charming smile as he tilts his head to the pile of letters.

Your eyes cut briefly to them before darting back to him.

“Y… you dream of nothing but me…?” you stutter, parroting one of the many memorable lines, a flicker of desire and hope and yearning so strong you can't help but ask.

His smile turns crooked. “Every night…” he confirms, eyes glittering.

“A-all of it?” you can barely utter it, your cheeks heating as you recall precisely what he wrote that he dreams about.

“Every word,” he asserts before his warm lips brush the back of your knuckles.

It's like you are thrown into a hurricane, a hundred thoughts and feelings tumbling, making your breath catch hard in your lungs. But it all converges into one singularity as you stare up into those hypnotic eyes. An overwhelming need coursing through you. For him. A longing that is tart on your tongue and deep in your core. And you are powerless to do anything but grab his neck and pull him down into a searing kiss.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spitt @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

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evvlevie · 1 year

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❤️‍🔥„Evie how do I manifest xyz???“ watch me teach you manifestation basics in one post. ❤️‍🔥

Hello again! It is me: your favorite shifting blogger Evie and today we are covering the 101 of manifestation (based on the law of assumption). I get plenty of dms and asks that go along the lines of „Evie can I manifest a car?“ or „Evie can I manifest a boyfriend?“ or „Evie can I manifest to become the next president of the United States“ et cetera, et cetera.

The answer will always be as clear as day: YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN. Wanna know why I know that? BECAUSE YOU CAN MANIFEST EVERYTHING EVER 🥳🥳🥳.

„but how do I do that?“

Well this answer is gonna take some time as it is not definitive.

A lot of people like affirming as a method. Others love to visualize. Some people meditate and others listen to subliminals. I tend to get creative, I have written my manifestations on toilet paper and flushed it before and it fucking worked. What I mean to say is that there is no DEFINITIVE way to manifest stuff. If Mary can affirm like crazy and have her desire by tomorrow, this might have not worked for Jennifer. Jennifer affirmed for 169 days straight and never received her desire (because subconsciously she never thought that affirming would work). But when Jennifer lit a candle, thought about her desire and blew it out like a birthday candle, she had her desire 15 minutes later, because she always had this intuition that this would feel more natural to her.

At the end of the day: try as many things as you can, as you will naturally realize what makes sense to you and what doesn’t. I did try affirming like crazy and I never got any desire ever that way. But for example listening to music and feeling every single word sung in my heart has gotten me WAAAYYY further. There is no real reason for that other than some things work for you and some things don‘t.

„but why?“

Well. You believe certain things to be true. You might believe that there is no real love out there and that manifests and now you are lonely and in raging heartbreak. You might believe that you are the most glowing and magnetic person on this planet and for some reason that has proven itself through people thriving in your presence and begging to be near you. Because guess what. You manifested it.

„but I never intentionally tried to manifest that every person I ever interact with breaks my heart in a soul crushing manner!“

Look. You manifest literally every single aspect of your life. ALWAYS. The whole point of manifestation as I am teaching you is to consciously control the way things manifest. But you have always, are always, and for ever will have been always the only creator of your reality. Your thoughts, your beliefs, your emotions and your desires manifest constantly. If you subconsciously believe that you are the most unlovable person on this planet guess how this will manifest into the physical realm? As every person you meet ever breaking your heart and declaring you as unlovable. And the key to everything is realizing that only you can decide what happens in your life. You are the source. The author of the book and the director of the movie. The painter of the artwork and the chef in the kitchen. Nothing you have ever witnessed has never not happened THROUGH you. You just didn’t realize it.

„So how do I consciously manipulate my reality?“

That’s when you step in your actual power. Listen, you control things. Everything. Nothing happens without you ordering it to happen first. You decide what is real and what is not. That’s a fact.

Now when you imagine your crush Johnny to text you, and you declare that to be the truth, a stone-hard fact and a thing that 100% is real and has happened, that energy will reflect itself in your reality.

You manifest by deciding what is real.

You manifest by declaring your truth.

You manifest by choosing your fate and sticking to that choice.

„What if I decide for Johnny to text me and Johnny never texted me?“

Oh but he did text you. In your imagination remember? And we, the only creator of our realities, decided that that is real. So Johnny texted you. What you mean to say is:

„Why don‘t I see a text from Johnny in my physical reality?“

There it is. The ONE error everybody does when getting into manifestation: looking for validation from the physical realm.

„Well obviously I am looking for my manifestation in the 3D world, that‘s what I am manifesting it for Eves!“

That is the moment where I educate you about ✨states✨

When you desire something, like let’s say a new phone, you are doing one thing in particular: you are recognizing the lack of the new phone in your life. (The state of desire/ the state of lack) When you visualize yourself getting a new phone, and you decide that is real now, you inevitably enter the state of being wish-fulfilled, the state of having it. Your job is to stay as loyal as possible to that state. Because your state manifests.

If we visualize the new phone, declare that as real and true, enter the state of wish-fulfillment, then look for confirmation we already disproved our state of being wish-fulfilled because if why are you looking for proof of your truth if you knew it was true? You know for a fact that 2 + 2 equals 4. you are not spending every day proving or disproving that fact, are you?

By searching for confirmation you will re-enter the state of being in lack, because you are actively recognizing and accepting the lack of that desire by looking wether you already have it or not. If you truly declared the imagination as real, why would you search in the 3D for it?

The 3D reality will always conform to the 4D reality anyway so just accept that you have it the minute you visualize it/affirm it/ and so on. And that’s why searching for something in the 3D is pointless. If the imagination comes first, if that is the reality where everything happens, if that is the place where everything stems from, why are you searching in the goddamn reflection for validation? Your imagination is the top validation you could ask for because it is TRUE. IT IS REAL. Your physical copy of that will always always always only portray what you have created in your mind in the first place! Why are you looking for Johnny’s text message in the reality that is bound to copy your imagination anyways? Why aren’t you more concerned with what you are visualizing and thinking about all day because these things WILL show up regardless? And if Johnnys Text Message didn‘t manifest YET then why are you believing that reality WHEN IT ALL CAME FROM YOU ANYWAY. YOU CREATE EVERYTHING BRO. If you can’t see it yet that doesn’t mean it would have never appeared, that just means you entered the state of lack again because you have been searching at a place that always comes second anyway. Do not believe what you see, believe what you decide to be real. YOU DECIDE. YOU YOU YOU AND ONLY YOU.

„So the trick is to recognize imagination as real?“

Correct.

„What happens when I accidentally recognize the lack of something in the 3D? Is my manifestation then lost?“

Nope. As long as you stay loyal to your state, you are not losing anything. If you happen to think „god I manifested that stupid text from Johnny two hours ago where is it?“ and then correct yourself with for example something along the lines of „ahhh wait I remember! The DID text me! Two hours ago in my real reality! Silly me!“ and that’s it! No need to overthink it. You decide what is real, so if you don‘t dwell in the fact that your physical reality doesn‘t show the picture you want to see, and you keep on re-entering your state of wish-fulfilled, and make it your dominant state, nothing is lost. It is only lost if you decide that it is. If you accept the physical copy as the truth and not the place where it all stems from, the place where your manifestation is already done anyways, then you lose it. But only because you decided to lose it.

„Okay so Evie I want to manifest that Johnny and I get married but he is currently married to another woman and has eleven kids with her. Can I manifest my desire anyway?“

First of all: you can manifest everything

Second of all: because circumstances never matter!

„But what if I want to manifest to get into Harvard even if they already sent me their rejection letter?“

Even then.

If you are the only creator of your reality, then you have been the one responsible for these circumstances in the first place anyways. If you can put yourself into your circumstances, you can remove yourself out of them just as well.

It is not your job to figure out how your subconscious goes about eliminating your circumstances, your job is to concentrate on what you want to declare as real. And then declare it as real. And stay in your state of wish-fulfilled. The rest will happen by itself. Trust. Me.

„So how long do you think my manifestation will take to appear in my physical reality?“

Depends. What do you think how long these things should take? Because that’s what it will boil down to. If you believe that every single one of your manifestations arrives within 2 minutes, then that’s your reality bro, that‘s what’s true. If you believe that a manifestation will always take up to a month until it happens well then that’s your truth. The only limit there is your belief.

It also does not matter wether you are trying to manifest climate change to stop or a cup of coffee. There are no „big manifestations“ or „small manifestations“. Manifestation is manifestation. But you THINK that Johnny texting you is such a huge deal that you MAKE it to something harder to get so you spend more time dwelling in lack so it takes more time to appear. If I told you that manifesting a dandelion on the sidewalk is the same thing as manifesting fucking Obama to kiss you, you wouldn’t believe me because you take things like probability into account. Which is totally irrelevant. The question is not „how probable would this have been to happen to me if I didn’t manifest it?“ in order to figure out wether something will manifest faster or easier. The better question for this would be „how much do I want this to happen?“. Because as soon as you decide something is real, it is. And then it copies into your physical world. Without a doubt. Which is exactly why you should never catch yourself get impatient or „wait“ on your desires to appear in the 3D. The trick is to know it will happen anyways. But everytime you check the 3D or wait for change to happen then you are re-entering state of desire/lack. That‘s when you are accepting that what the 3D is showing you, must be a fact, EVEN THOUGH YOU DECIDE WHAT IS REAL AND WHAT ISNT IN THE FIRST PLACE.

„so basically how do I manifest a scholarship for example?“

Okay let’s take a test run. I want to manifest a scholarship. So I pick my most favorite method of manifesting which is visualizing (for example). I lay down in my bed, close my eyes, take a few deep breaths and really set the scene as detailed as I can. I imagine myself opening my laptop, clicking on my E-Mail Icon and read through the E-Mail I received in which I got accepted into my dream scholarship. I freak out because I have been waiting for this moment for ever and I am so happy and I let myself feel every single emotion that is connected to my desire being fulfilled. I open my eyes and I am happy because I know that this moment just happened. I enter the state of wish-fulfilled and now I go about my day all proud and confident because I know that since I declared my acceptance into the scholarship as real, it happens anyway. I know it is real, which is why I don’t get all worried about it showing up in the 3D and I let go of all the worry and all the anxiety attached to the situation where I still desired that scholarship. Because I don‘t anymore. Because I have it. Because I decided that that is what is real, so now it is.

Two days have passed and I still have no E-Mail in my account and the old me pops up and thinks „where is that scholarship that we manifested“ I immediately recognize that some part of me seems to think we are lacking something. I correct my behavior and remind myself through re-imagining the scene of me getting accepted to the scholarship and reminding myself consciously „that’s right! I already have the acceptance to the scholarship! It‘s real, I remember!“ and let go of the negative feelings attached to the state of desire. I stay loyal to the state of wish-fulfilled and I do not seek validation from the outside, only from my imagination because I know, that only my imagination is real, only my imagination is to be trusted.

„This sounds like it takes a lot of practice“

It does. Some people get used to this way of thinking easier than others. Some believe their 4D sooner than others do. Some might never accept the 4D as real and never consciously manifest anything ever because they are too set on viewing the 3D as factual and set-in-stone. Others accept the Imagination as truth immediately and have 100k dollars in their bank by tomorrow because they adapted to this manifestation-type-of-thinking faster than you did maybe.

But that is normal. Forreal. Some take years perfecting this skill, and others try it once and then leave it.

But to be fair: if you are manifesting literally everything in your life anyways, wouldn‘t you rather be able to control it at least? Even if it takes you several days-weeks-months-years to finally get it right? Doesn‘t that make so much more sense?

This post was inspired by a lot of asks and dms people have been sending me, and I genuinely hope I was able to help❤️

Thank you guys so much for trusting me and supporting my blog❣️

It truly means the world to me, knowing people are listening to my advice and seeing results from that❣️

I am yours in every reality,

Evie <3

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