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brailsthesmolgurl · 21 days

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WHERE'S MUMMY? PT.2

My first part has received an amazing amount of response, hence I decided that I would come out with a part two, and who knows? Maybe this could be another mini series for the boys? :)))) Regardless, enjoy the read!

Warnings: Comfort and Fluff, Slight Angst for some parts. Mentions of smexy times for one, suggestive for another. ANONS ARE POOPY SOMETIMES BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I WILL STOP WRITING SUGGESTIVE HAHA :(

RAFAYEL & MARIELA

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Mariela's voice could be heard from the other room at the end of the hallway as she called out to her father. Rafayel, who was busy working on one of his art pieces, dashed towards her room at full speed, panicking at how she was calling out to him. He slammed the door open, claymore ready to be withdrawn only to find his daughter on the floor, with paint all over her face and the canvas that he had provided to her.

One may ask why did Rafayel left his daughter all alone in her room while he was working on his art piece. Rafayel, being a good father, had coaxed his daughter for 30 minutes, with candies and also anything she could possibly want, only to be rejected by her. Her adamant 'NO's made Rafayel confused as to why she would want to paint alone in her room. 'I can do this myself daddy' was the last sentence she told him before she closed the door. And he wondered where she got the attitude from, and he had a good guess probably inherited from her independent mother.

So Rafayel sat at the living room, in his usual thinking corner, painting his artwork, but also carefully listening to anything that might go on in the room. He did tried and checked up on her a couple of minutes ago, knocking on her door and asking if she would like any biscuits with milk but the young child only replied 'NO' as if that is the only word she knew for the morning.

"I thought something happened to you, my little fishie." Rafayel sighed in relief, walking over to her to look at what she had drawn. He took a seat next to her and looked at her face. "How did you managed to get paint on both the canvas and your face?" He pulled the little girl into his lap and he chuckled, using his thumb to try and rub the paint off of her face and luckily it came off pretty easily. He silently thanked your effort in purchasing non-toxic paints for Mariela.

"I wanted to do it like how daddy do it." Her smile was angelic, one of Rafayel's trademark. She reenacted how she did it, by drawing air circles on her palm and on her face. "I drew here, and here and..." She flattened her palms and plopped her face onto the surface of her palms. Rafayel was in shock at her creativity.

"So you used your hands and your face as tools to draw?" He tilted his head and when the toddler nodded giddily, Rafayel pinched her cherubic cheeks. "You are an artist just like me. No wonder you're my daughter." He kissed her cheeks and carried her up in his arms. "Now, let's get you washed up and then we will show this piece to mummy when she is back from work okay?"

"OKAY!" She cheered, both arms flying up into the air and Rafayel laughed, bringing her into the bathroom to wash her off from the mess she had brought upon herself.

The roars of your motorbike could be heard and that led Mariela to jump off of the couch, with Rafayel catching up behind her quickly. "Mummy's home!" Mariela was elated, trying to turn the door knob the best she could but with her size and strength, she is not able to. Rafayel came to the rescue on time and he opened the door, smiling when he spotted you getting off of your motorbike and unclasping the buckle of your helmet, swiftly removing the headgear and placing it on your motorbike's seat. "Mummy!"

"Hey there sweetie!" You called out and shuffled over, arms wide opened and your daughter embraced you within your arms. "How was your day today hmm?"

The latter question of yours was directed towards your husband, who was standing against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his torso while watching both of his favourite women walking towards him. "It was good because there is a surprise." He winked at you and you both shared a peck, before heading in. "Mariela, do you want to show mummy what you drawn today?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" The little girl wriggled out of your arms smoothly and she waddled off to her room. You took a seat on the marble floor and awaited for your daughter's return. Rafayel taking a seat right next to you and he encircled his arms around your waist, giving your side a soft knead. The soft sound of thuds closing in when your daughter came out from her room, with something behind her back. "Mummy close your eyes."

Your husband then got behind you and he used his palms to cover your eyes, nodding towards your daughter to proceed further. Mariela pulled the canvas out from behind her and she placed it in your lap, before taking your hand cautiously and put it on her canvas. Rafayel released his hold on your face and you looked down, gasping in surprise at what your daughter had managed to colour on her canvas. But, you can't make out any shapes or sizes, other than two hand prints of hers and what seems to be an imprint of your daughter's face.

"This is so nice of you sweetie." You pulled her in for a hug and kissed her head. "Did you do this with your hands and face?" You asked just to be sure and her reaction made you stared at Rafayel. The actual artist staring back at you, shrugging his shoulders and muttering something along the lines of 'she did not want me to see what she was doing, so I left her to her own creativity'.

"Abstract art is great!" Rafayel smiled, ruffling his daughter's brunette curls which had grown a bit longer. "Daddy can put this in the next exhibition and you can go with me to see it." Rafayel looked at his daughter and she cheered, hugging you tightly and you beckoned your husband in for a hug as well.

On the day of the exhibition, Rafayel was busy attending to the guests, completing his interviews and taking pictures with his fans. You are spending time with Mariela, hand holding hers as the both of you walked through the exhibition halls. Pink and blue and purple, all colours within the same spectrum covered the walls in forms of splatters, lace ribbons were tapered to the ceilings, to add on a touch of elegance. No doubt your husband has 'extravagance' as his middle name.

Almost every corner is littered with his artworks, ranging from abstract to rough sketches, to impressionism paintings to sculptures. Rafayel is a master to all types of artworks, which gained him the fame and respect he has gotten till now. The wooden flooring resonated the sound of your footsteps, heels clacked against it in sync. You looked down at your daughter to notice the little girl has her mouth agaped, staring at all of her father's artworks in awe. Same, Mariela, same.

"Is that the daughter he had mentioned about?" A distant voice could be heard echoing from the end of the hallway and you turned around, seeing a woman clad in a formal outfit, hair neatly tied back and a microphone in her hand. A camera man right behind of her with one of his huge video cameras situated on his shoulder. "Hi, can we do an interview?"

Out of politeness, you agreed, smiling and nodding your head and the reporter crew started to approach you and your daughter. You lowered yourself down to carry Mariela up into your arms so that she could be within the shot as well, assuming the reporter would like a word or two with the renowned artist's daughter.

"How would you describe living with Rafayel, a famous artist?" The reporter held out the mic to you, awaiting for your response.

"Uhm...living with Rafayel has always been a pleasant one, as he does take care of me and my daughter's needs." You replied, a smile coming forth. "He is a good husband and a good father."

"That is good to note. Rafayel sure do cares about you guys a lot. But, would you care to say that you fell in love with him because he is rich and famous?" The daring assumption made by the reporter made you scowled in 4k on the Linkon's National Television Network.

Your eyebrows are now knitted together, your facade of being nice slowly fading behind your rising annoyance. "No. I certainly do not and will never love him just because of his wealth and fame. I love him for the way he is."

"Fans had also mentioned that you do not seem to be a good example of a mother given you are a deepspace hunter yourself. Moreover, given the recent decrease in recruits, you had to take up double shifts to cover for the incident. What do you have to say regarding this?" The woman smirked, knowing she had struck a nerve in you. Her tone coated in layers of disdain and you can see it right through. This is a personal attack towards you and your family.

Before you could retort the question, you felt a hand on the small on your back and you turned around, your husband standing upright beside you. A look you knew all too well shown on his face. "Get out of my exhibition." The crew feigned innocence, looking at one another to mentally convince themselves that they had done nothing wrong other than doing their jobs. "Nobody disrespects my wife and my family like that. Be it fans or reporters or anyone else. SO you can kindly see yourself out before I call on my security guards." The edge of his lips curled into a cunning smirk. "Which I think might not look good on your company's reputation if they were to escort you guys out."

The bunch of strangers started dispersing out of the family's sight and you looked at Rafayel, who is quick to take Mariela off of your arms and into his. "Are you okay?" He ran the back of his hand across your cheek. "I am sorry, I should have been by your side the whole time." He apologised, putting the blame onto himself but you held his hand in yours, thumb rubbing comforting circles.

"Don't say that Rafayel. You were just doing what Thomas has asked of you. I can fend for myself if those remarks were thrown to me." You gave him a peck on your cheek. "Even if the day you end up being homeless and broke, I will still love you." You looked over to your daughter, who had cosied up to her father's neck, fast asleep.

"The same thing applies from me to you too, cutie." The use of the old nickname rolling off of the tip of his tongue made you bit your lip and you could not help but to smile, looking down at your heels. His finger lifted your chin up, and he pressed a kiss onto your lips lovingly in the middle of the exhibition hallway, ensuring that reporters who may be passing by would be able to catch a glimpse of his actual exhibition of love.

ZAYNE & LUMI & IVER

"Good morning." You could make out Zayne's husky voice and his weight was pressed up slightly against your back, a kiss then planted on your cheek. "Today is Lumi and Iver's presentation day. The one where they have to bring a parent along and to introduce them."

"Oh it's today?" You asked, yawning and stirring yourself to wake. You turned over to face your husband and you opened one eye. "I totally forgotten about it." Zayne smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You felt particularly tired because today is one of those rare off days you could get whenever Wanderer sightings are not reported as often, and perhaps, with the amount of lovemaking you had gone through with Zayne last night, it was a little hard for you to just jump out of bed and get ready for now.

"I can go on behalf on us as I do not need to be in the hospital today." He smoothed his hand over your hair, staring at you lovingly with those alluring hazel-green eyes of his. "So, take your time to rest, my love. You deserve it." Another kiss is pressed to your lips for a few seconds and he got out of bed, walking over to you to pull his side of blanket over your half naked body. "I don't want you to get a cold, so you may take my side of the blanket too."

You smiled warmly at him in return and managed to catch a glimpse of his toned physique when he walked towards the bathroom to wash himself up. Once he was done, he went over to the kids' room to wake them up. "Lumi, Iver. It's time to wake up." He said gently, pushing the curtains open to draw in the sunlight. The twins slowly stirred awake and they both sat up in their beds, in a half awake state.

"Morning daddy." Lumi spoke, with Iver saying the same exact greeting a few seconds behind. As if by routine, they both extended their arms out and Zayne picked both of them up in one-go, bringing them to the bathroom so they could get washed up and get dressed for school.

Pulling up at the twin's kindergarten, Zayne parked at the allocated parking lots for the parents and he got out of the car, immediately getting stares and comments from the bystanders in hushed whispers. Not only does he own a fancy car that most parents could not afford, but he is also extremely good looking. He popped the backseat's door open and escorted both of his kids into the kindergarten's premises.

Zayne sat on the floor, just like the other parents but it felt a little out of place for him as he was the only father who attended this event. The usual stigma regarding kids shall always be tied to a mother's responsibility but Zayne has never believed in that. He strongly believes that childrens are a result of both sides of parents, hence they should be a shared responsibility for both parents.

Lumi and Iver sat in front of their father, and they noticed the way their classmates were looking over to them. "Is that your daddy?" One of the classmates asked Lumi, the toddler about her size, with big brown eyes and short brown bob. Lumi nodded in return. "My mummy say he looks very nice." The comment made Zayne looked over at the parent who is in charge of the talking child and the mother looked away in embarassment.

As usual, Zayne is used to this kind of scenarios, even in hospitals he would always be stared at by patients, some even going as far as to state that they are cured because of how handsome he is. Zayne however, never bought into any of those bullshit. It is not because he is egoistic, but he does not want to be downplayed because of his looks. The saying goes, if you are handsome, you get a certain privilege amongst the normies. Zayne wanted to prove that idea to be a total scam as looks does not necessarily equate to one's actual capabilities in getting things done. Zayne being a prime example.

The homeroom teacher came in after the bell had finished ringing and she welcomed all of the parents' attendance. Goes on about the agenda for the day and that this event is held to encourage stronger bonds between parents and children and amongst their peers as well. "Lumi and Iver's father, would you like to be the first one to start?" She asked Zayne, palms out and pointed towards him.

"Sure." The man replied, clearing his throat and standing up, his towering height a stark difference from his children. He walked to the front of the classroom. Kids of their age would have thought of him being the giant in the beanstalk fairytale if only he had green skin and a big nose. Zayne pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and greeted everyone. "Good morning everybody, my name is Zayne and I am the father to Lumi and Iver." He sent a smile towards his kids. "I am the chief surgeon and leading cardiologist for Akso Hospital."

Zayne talked about his job, keeping it brief and non-technical as he does not want to bore anyone within the room and he does not find the need to reveal too much of his personal information. Now comes the questioning phase, in which the parents would ask questions towards the speaker to get to know them better. "Dr. Zayne, since you are a doctor, would your work take up a lot of time?" One of the ladies asked, readjusting her position on the mat.

"Yes it does." Simple and clear-cut.

"Then do you have a wife to take care of the kids for you?" Her question turned into a flirtatious attempt and a couple of other mums started to tune in, some biting their lip and some fixing their hair. Does not take one to know what was already running through their minds.

Zayne sighed, feeling indifferent to her question. He purposely held his left hand in front of his chest and he twisted the wedding band that is evident on his ring finger, the diamond cut on the simple band refracting the sunlight almost immediately. The lady who asked her question seemingly tried to choke back on her own words, face darkening to a shade akin to a tomato. "Of course I do. A doctor would not be in his or her right mind to have kids and to work full time when our job requires us to be on call for 24/7."

He continued. "My wife is a full time deepspace hunter and we are both equally as involved in our children's lives, just on intervals for the weekdays, but on weekends, we take more time to nurture them." The way he phrased his answer made the whole room went silent, the only sound present being the chirps of the birds coming from outside of the window.

"We are home mummy!" Both of the twins shouted together, placing their shoes onto the shoe rack and dashing into the house to look for their mother. Zayne followed in suit, keeping an eye on them two so they do not end up falling.

"Hey there my babies!" You called out from your bedroom, already dressed up and wide awake. Lumi and Iver both in their tiny white uniforms with stripes of blue, the uniform colour of the kindergarten they both attended. Lumi's dark hair was tied into a neat braid, an effort from Zayne's Youtube history having a streak watch for braid tutorials. Iver's hair however is soft and fluffy, the same as his father’s and it sat on top of his head like a cloud.

"How was the parent meeting?" You asked them two, and they both enveloped you into a big hug, each on one side. Both of your kids looked very happy so you assumed that it went well.

"All of our friends brought mummies." Iver stated. "Nobody bring their daddies to school today." Lumi nudged Iver and whispered something into his ear in her low voice and the boy reiterated what her sister said. "Oh and Cathy's mummy said daddy looks very good."

"She said he is handsome." Lumi corrected Iver and they both turned in sync to watch your reaction. What could you possibly say? Your husband is good looking, it is a bound-to-happen situation but you somehow wished you were the one that attended the event instead. A small slither of jealousy bubbled in your stomach. Just a tiny one.

You were wondering if Zayne took the lady's compliment until you saw your husband walking into the room, with a stoic look. He has always been stoic, yes, but this time, something is different about this look of his. His white formal collared shirt hugged his muscled figure well, his simple black tie hanging loosely below the third button, extending one's sight on his wide sets of shoulders and his v-line figure. His sleeves were folded to his forearm, veins lining against the exposed part of his arms. He placed the car keys and his glasses onto the makeup table and sent you a short look, the side of his lips pulled up into a greeting and loving smile. "Good morning, y/n."

"Good morning, my love." You wanted to believe that Zayne did not entertain the lady's compliment, but you just wanted to hear him say it. So, y/n decided to go with an indirect approach. "Kids, can you wait for mummy outside? Daddy and mummy have to talk a little." Once both of the kids had left, you turned to your 'sulking' husband who was busy changing into a more comfortable outfit. "Come on, what happened?"

"Apparently, I was the only male figure there." He spoke informatively. "And particularly, I do not find it likeable when the other parents think that I am a single parent." His sentence got you figuring when did he ever cared about what people think about him? Has the cold Dr. Zayne finally loosened up? "I find it disrespectful towards you despite them meeting me for the first time." He sounds offended and yet providing the benefit of the doubt to the other parents.

You stared at him, perplexed at the situation. "So, conclusively, you do not enjoy going to the parent's meeting?" You crossed your arms in front of your torso. "Because you do not like the way I got low-key disrespected by the other mums?" A part of you is tasting victory at the tip of your tongue for how protective he is, another part of you---, okay there's no other part. It is the least Zayne could do to show you and the others that he is in a happy marriage and you are fully content with the way he had handled it.

There is not a need to address your concerns of the woman calling him handsome anymore because you know well enough if Zayne had wanted to cheat on you, he could have done it many times given his popularity amongst the opposite sex. But he stayed loyal through thick and thin and had never made you doubt his loyalty and love to you, this being one of his prime examples of being a fine husband.

Zayne chuckled under his breath and came closer to you, both of his hands held your arms and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Low-key is too minimal of a word to describe their assumptions. It is disrespectful for them to assume I am a single parent, when I have a model wife right here with me." He ran his hands repeatedly up and down your arms to comfort you.

"Furthermore, I do enjoy going to Lumi and Iver's events at the kindergarten but perhaps next time, I would much prefer it if you went with me." He pulled you into his arms and you surrendered within his hug. "So that we can spend time with the kids and I get to indirectly dismiss any ladies who may be interested in taking your place." Your laugh further made him look forward to the upcoming event for his kids' kindergarten.

XAVIER & LUCIAN

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Lucian appeared from behind his bedroom door, one eye opened while the other half-lidded. Xavier took a peek at the clock hung on the wall. 10.30am. Lucian, however, is looking at the desk filled with all sorts of sewing needles and a bunch of fabric lapped over one another. "Are you making something daddy?" His eyebrows hinged upwards and he tried to get onto his tip toes to see what was placed on the table. Seeing his son struggling, he carried the little boy up into his arms and placed him on his lap. "I am trying to sew mum a toy, you know, like the ones that you can get from the souvenir shops and all?" Lucian looked between his father and the mess on the table, figuring out how does one make a bunch of cloths into a toy. The limitation of imagination a normal happening for a toddler his age. "What should we make for mummy?"

"A big teddy bear!" The son exclaimed, arms wide and laughing happily. Xavier chuckled along, his son not lacking any bit of his wife's enthusiasm. "Rabbit? Mummy likes rabbits." The son pressed his small index finger to his own lips, thinking to himself. The suggestion of his made Xavier's cheeks flushed red, remembering that one time when you brought him to an event and made him dressed up as a rabbit themed butler, and that is how he met Lucian's mum. Ironic, I know.

"Yeah, I guess a rabbit would do." A sigh escaped his lips when he noticed none of the cloths on the table are white. Unless his wife would be able to appreciate a multi-coloured rabbit toy, he did not want to risk it. "We need to go shopping for some stuffs. Can you go and change your clothes Lucian?" Xavier instructed and the little boy headed off to his bedroom as he was previously trained. As much as independence goes, you and Xavier had decided that some good habits have to be instilled from young. Dressing himself up being one of the disciplines you guys had agreed on.

Xavier got himself changed into a simple white t-shirt and a pair of wide jeans. Surprisingly and yet not surprisingly, Lucian came out of his room, holding a same blue jeans in his hand. "Daddy, can you help me? It is hard to pull it up-up." He pouted, handing Xavier the jeans. Steadying himself, Xavier pulled the jeans up his legs and helped him to button it. "Thank you daddy." The son grinned from ear to ear and held onto Xavier's hand, going over to put on his shoes.

Initially, they were going to ride the motorbike to get to where they are headed, but given the sun is high up the skies today, it calls for a chance for the both of them to enjoy a walk under the clear and warm weather. Xavier did brought along an umbrella as well, in case Lucian gets a little hot. Just because he enjoys the sun, he does not immediately assume his son would enjoy it as much. A lesson he had learned from his wife when you got a fever after walking with him under the sun despite you not being able to stand the heat.

The streets today are not as busy as the normal weekends, with minimal traffic and pedestrians. "Are you tired already?" Xavier observed his son, his footsteps slowing down and slightly wonky. Lucian looked up at his towering father and shake his head, hand coming up to rub his eyes and he yawned. Tears lined his eyes and Xavier bent down to carry his son up into his arms. "It's okay, you can take a nap in my arms, kiddo."

He walked down the street, passing by a coffee shop that looked newly opened. As he was looking through the menu that was on a stand outside, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fishing it out of his pocket, he noticed that his wife is contacting him. "Hello? Baby?" He immediately pressed the phone to his ear. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I woke up to an empty house. Where are you and Lucian?" You asked and he gulped, luckily he had kept the threads and sewing kits and fabrics or else the surprise factor would be ruined.

"Lucian told me that he wanted to have a walk at the park. Since you are still sound asleep, I decided to bring him out for a small walk." Xavier explained, head tilting slightly to look at his son. Still sound asleep within his arms. "We will be back around 15 minutes. Is there anything you would like me to get for you?"

"Some coffee would be great, Xavier." You smiled on the other side of the line, same as him. "Be safe when you are at the park with Lucian alright? I will just rest a bit more at home." You informed him and the call ended with 'Bye' and 'I love you'.

Arriving at a craft store, he lightly woke his son up by kissing his cheek. "We are here Lucian, would you like to accompany me to decide on what colour to get for mummy?" Lucian blinked open his eyes, those light blue irises of his slowly darkened to make up for the lack of lighting within the store. The trinkets neatly placed in various baskets and boxes amazed the child, there are so many things he would like to get his hands on.

"Hi there, how may I help you?" A senior appeared from behind the counter. A lovely lady with a hunched figure, her own kitting works worn on her. Xavier leaned closer to the counter, noticing the vast amount of fabrics, of all sizes and textures mapped out behind the counter. There are also several pictures, in monogramic style, featuring the old lady in her younger days and what seems to be her children, standing side by side, smiling with her. Her light brown eyes lit up when she caught sight of Xavier and Lucian. "Oh, what a precious child."

"Thank you." Xavier thanked her. The old lady laid her knitting items down onto the table she had beside her and she reached her wrinkly hand up to wave it in front of Lucian. The young kid was quick to react, using his tiny hand to wrap around the lady's index finger and Xavier swear he could have seen the old woman regained her youth at that moment. Perhaps reminiscing about the times when she had her kids alongside her. "I am here to get some fabric so I can make a stuffed toy for my wife."

Now it is Xavier's time to have a hunched back. He never thought the process of sewing a stuffed toy would be so complicated. Can't blame him, given his royalty background in Philos and him being an esteemed deepspace hunter in this dimension, why would he even go near anything related to sewing and knitting? It is however, a part-time hobby of yours, as you mentioned that you find it to be peaceful and helps you to focus better. It is also a good past time on the days when you are not busy out on the field.

"Daddy, daddy look at that!" Lucian called out and his head turned towards the direction his son pointed at. Claw Machine Store. Why has he never thought of just taking things the easy route? Because he did not want to. Catching a stuffed toy from a claw machine will always surpass the level of easiness as compared to making a stuffed toy from scratch. Furthermore, the thought of you finding out he actually put in the effort to make the stuffed toy for you would leave your heart melting. He wanted that from you, or more like he just wants you to be happy.

Across the street stood the claw machine store, with stuffed toys filled to the brim for each of the machines, begging to be caught. Your son's eyes are fully attached to the store now, already making mental marks on which toys he would want in his room. Your husband lack that enthusiasm, staring down at the huge bag of craft items he had just purchased from the store. He is debating against himself. Whether to catch a toy or to make one. Either one could predict for different endings, but he knows that you would be happy for both endings. Perhaps he was slightly irritated for the measuring of the level for your happiness.

"Let's go Lucian." He grabbed his son and heaved him upwards, holding the child in his arms like how one carries a log and he crossed the empty street. His feet light and quick in his steps, a habit obtained from his long-time combat instincts. The borders of the tar road ended when he stepped onto the padded pavement, putting his son down and watched as the kid hopped into the store. Xavier was quick on his tail, worried that something might happen to his son.

Luckily, the little boy with the light hair is easy to spot amongst the assemblage of neon lights and bright colours emitting from the machines. Lucian stood in front of a machine, hands pressed against the glass panel, hair stained pink from the light strobe of the machine. "Can we get this one for mummy?" His grin was angelic, but Xavier stood there, slightly stunned. Did his son perhaps doubted his sewing abilities as well like how he doubted his cooking abilities? Well, there is a possibility.

"But I bought these already kiddo. I thought we were going to make a toy for mummy." Xavier tried to test the waters and his son only responded with gestures, tine finger tapped at the glass panel again, pointing directly at the bunny plushie. "Lucian..." Xavier tried to coax him again.

Lucian then faced his father, lips pursed together. "The granny told me that you might get hurt from sewweng." The last word that has not been registered in his vocabulary. "I don't want daddy to get hurt. I don't think mummy will be happy too." For a 3-year old, his sensibility is admirable. His son's words changed his mind, and he gave the little boy a card, the one where he usually reloads a bit too much tokens in it for any sorts of arcades. "Let's get one for mummy together okay?"

"You," You closed the bedroom door behind you, a pastel pink stuffed rabbit in your grasp. Lucian had already being put to sleep shortly after his dinner because the poor boy was dozing off on the dining table. Today could have been a long day for your son. You watched your husband shifted his gaze from the mukbang show on the television to you. "Are a bad liar."

"What do you mean?" His voice feigning innocence when he sat up in a better posture, leaning against the bedframe now. "What have I done this time?"

"Lucian told me that you stitched this yourself." Your teasing smile is apparent to him now, you wiggling the bunny in your hands to show him the evident of his works.

"Do you not believe me?" Xavier's eyes widened, here comes the puppy look. He got out of the bed and slowly approached you. His aura taking a turn from being accused to being the accuser. "Or, do you not want to believe that I stitched it?"

You took a step back, your lower back pressed against the makeup table and he caged you, arms extended on both sides of your figure and he leaned in, smirking and chuckling lowly under his breath. "I...I...didn't know you could stitch toys." Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel his warm breath fanned across your cheeks.

"I feel a little bit upset now." He expressed, pressing a soft and longing kiss onto your cheek and you jolted in shock. "Your son and I had tried to get a toy for you at the arcade today but we kind of finished the credits because the machine was problematic." You would safely put a finger on the fact that he is just bad at claw machine games as per usual. "So, Lucian and I decided to go back to the store where we bought the craft products from and got the old lady behind the counter to give us a crafting lesson. Then this bunny is the outcome of the lesson."

You can feel your heart bloomed at his explanation. You felt bad for doubting his skills, and you even thought that the bad stitching of the toy is a trend nowadays hence you assume your poor husband went off fishing at the claw machine arcades. You should not have doubted his determination. "I'm sorry Xavier, I didn't mean to. I just never thought you would go so out of your way to make me a stuffed bunny. I just---" His index finger slid past your bottom lip at a painfully slow pace.

"Sometimes, you can choose other methods to let me know that you're sorry." He whispered quietly and leaned down to kiss you, the doll you were holding taken out of your hands and tossed behind him, landing on the floor with a thud and your vision blended out into both of your igniting passion.

Here you go lovelies, this is part two for the LNDS boys with their kids and you <3

Leave me your thoughts and love <3 Have a nice day to all me lovelies!!!!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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dazai-ritualist · 2 months

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THE GIRL IN MY STORY HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU!

— in which alastor’s dear is ridiculed. he’ll take care of those insolent wretches later… comforting you is much more important

— lol a little drabble bc i j found out one of my former friends called me ugly last school year and i kinda get it cause i had a huge forehead (i got bangs to fix that) but i just feel a little insecure rn

you hit your head on the pillow, your smile faltering as soon as you were alone. what an awful day… today was exhausting, being ridiculed by those demons in the carmine district was hurtful, to say the very least. most especially when they poked at your looks.

appearance was always a taboo subject to you, all that anyone ever wants is to be beautiful.

creak…

“darling, what are you doing back here so early in the day?” alastor asked, walking over to you as he put his face near your’s. “don’t wanna talk about it…” you frowned, turning away from him.

alastor’s curiosity grew as he turned you back over. “is something wrong, my dear?” he asked, a soft smile on his face. “what is it that happened? c’mon, tell me about it, love.” he said as he sat on the bed, pulling you onto his lap.

“am… am i pretty, alastor?” you sniffed, eyes growing wet with tears. “my dear, of course you are! what makes you think otherwise?” alastor raised an eyebrow.

“uuh… some demons were kinda…” you started, leaning your head on his chest as your tears stained his coat as he waited for you to finish speaking. “t…they were calling me ugly…” you finished, a hiccup interrupting your breaths.

“my love, don’t let those wretches’ blind comments plague your thoughts. you’re beautiful, i promise you that, on my own grave!” he quietly laughed at his own joke. it didn’t seem to calm your thoughts though. “dear, trust me, you are gorgeous. you would not have any idea how many other demons i had to fight off to earn the right to court you!”

it made you feel slightly better, the thought of it making you smile a little. “come now, smile, my dear! you know you’re never fully dressed without one!” alastor’s smile growing wider as he pointed to his own grin.

alastor’s trademark motto making your smile grow wider as he wiped your pearly tears away. “don’t cry anymore, darling. your pretty face is meant to smile.” he said, kissing you on the head. “say… what are the names of these demons?” he asked.

“aah… i don’t know… it was when i was in the carmine district…” you said, looking at alastor’s eyes. “don’t go after them.. you’ll start some sort of overlord war with ms. carmilla…” you frowned at his clear murderous intent

“i wouldn’t care for that at all, darling. a war with carmilla is the very least of my worries right now.” he rolled his eyes at your worry. “not when there are sinners who need to be taught a lesson.”

you leaned into alastor’s touch as he stroked your back comfortingly. “thank you, love…” you sighed. “i’ll always come through for you, darling. don’t ever question that.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hasbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc

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kmt123whatsthetea · 9 months

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Babies on the Brain

George Weasley x reader

Requested by @hahahafucku

Request gist: smut where George sees you holding Fred baby and he feels the need to give you one of his own.

A/N: thanks for the request. I carried on Fred and Angelina’s romance (Freds not dying in my world and George is ending up with the reader instead). I've never been good at writing for breeding kinks (I say like I'm good at writing other things) so I'm sorry if it sounds cliche or cringy or if it's just downright terrible. I don't know if I went a bit overboard on the before smut stuff.

T/W: unprotected sex, soft dom George, breeding kink, praise, kitchen counter sex, ginger baby (jk)

You and George had met in your first year of Hogwarts but your slow build up to a couple started after your fourth year. You had known him for years. His parents loved you, his siblings loved you, and he adored you. You loved his family, from his caring mum, to his mischievous twin, and finally his young sister (who was thrilled to have another girl in the family).

Speaking of George's mischievous twin, you couldn't believe the news when you heard that he was going to be a father. This was a boy who (with his twin) had set a firework dragon on a ministry of magic worker, had stolen a flying car, and had tested joke shop products on first year students back in Hogwarts. He was going to be a brilliant dad.

Those months went by with you and George helping Fred and Angelina with anything they needed, from trips to St Mungos to shopping for baby accessories. Throughout this time, George began to keep a closer eye on you. He’d zone out when you recommended baby grows to get his future niece or nephew or when you’d buy baby products so that the expecting parents were prepared.

A week after Angelina gave birth, she and Fred brought the little one round to meet the family. A little boy who already shared the Weasleys trademark fiery hair. Angelina passed him to you, letting you hold the baby whilst she went for a well deserved rest (Molly had persisted that she looked tired and could take a nap in Fred’s old room). You bounced the little baby in your arms, unaware of your boyfriend watching you from the doorway.

He didn't want to admit it, but seeing you with a baby in your arms made him weak in the knees. He wanted it to always be like this. He wanted the baby in your arms to be his. He'd always thought about having kids with you someday, but this was a wake up call. And the call was answered by that voice inside of him, telling him to make you his and only his.

————————————————————————

Once you got home to the small house that you and George shared, you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. All you had been talking about all afternoon was how adorable Fred’s baby was with his tiny button nose and little toes. George stalked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his face immediately going to the crook of your neck to press soft kisses to the skin.

“You’d make such a perfect mum to our kids”.

His words made you freeze. At first, you didn't think you’d heard him correctly, since his face was still tucked into your neck. But he made sure that you would listen.

“I bet you’d look so beautiful carrying our baby. So full and swollen…so full because of me”.

At this point, he was slowly rocking his hips against your ass. His cock slowly got harder while he left kisses along your collarbone. Small breathy moans slipped past your lips, his words and grinding getting you wetter by the second. You pushed your hips back against his, wanting nothing more than for George to take the hint and fuck you into the countertop. His hand splayed across your stomach through your clothes, muttering a soft “Want me in here, sweetheart?”. Your small whimper and frantic nodding had him smiling to himself. He wanted you to admit that you wanted this, he needed you to admit that you wanted him to do this.

“Need you to tell me what you want, love. Tell me how much you want to be full of my cum”. His breath on the shell of your ear caused you to shiver and turn your head as much as you could to look him in the eye. “Please George, fuck me. Fill me up. I want to be full”. Once he made you beg, he pulled your dress up and pulled your underwear to the side, knowing that it would take too long to pull them off. George pushed his trousers and boxers down, before pushing into you with one thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. His pace was quick and desperate from the moment he was inside of you. His cock felt amazing. You had both had sex without protection before but it felt somehow better when you didn't have to worry or take precautions. Your moans were sultry and erotic, and George swore that he had never heard a prettier sound (apart from the sound of his hips slapping against the plush of your ass).

His hand trailed its way down to tease and play with your clit, wanting to make you cum first. He had always insisted on cumming after you. His mouth was next to your ear in a second, his voice dripping with lust. “That's it sweetheart, milk my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want me to cum deep inside you. Cum for me and I’ll stuff you so full of my cum that you’ll be carrying twins”. His thrusts got sloppier but his small circles on your clit got more determined. All it took was one final thrust to have you cumming around his cock, your walls clenching tighter than before. George's hold on you got tighter as his cum flooded your insides, not a drop going to waste.

After you had both caught your breaths and calmed down, he pulled his cock out. Pulling your underwear to its correct spot before whispering in your ear “Keep it all in there love, I’ll check tonight and if even a drop is gone, I’ll just have to fill you up again”

#george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x you #george wealsey x reader #george weasley smut #george weasley x fem #george weasley x y/n

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elsweetheart · 1 year

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jealous girl — basketball!abby anderson au

synopsis: when the other girls on your cheer squad relentlessly show interest in your girlfriend, the captain of the basketball team — you feel the undying urge to claim her as yours and yours only.

♪ jealous girl — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: reader is a cheerleader / athletic, girl drama, alcohol, reader gets very possessive, jealousy and insecurity for no reason tbh, angst??? reader cries a bunch what’s new, smut, use of strap on, housewife kink, dom top abby, sub bottom reader, a little bit of overstim if you squint? fem reader, lmk if i missed anything!

an: omg hi! i’m so nervous to post this omg. i hope you like the route i took this down! reader can be kind of annoying but stick with it. minors you are not welcome here so don’t interact and ageless blogs you will be blocked. also please don’t ask for a part two! there will not be one! anyways hope you enjoy it bbs ! likes and reblogs welcome ♡

Winner. Scholar. First place.

And that was just the first shelf of Abby’s trophy cabinet. She’d been given the premier student accommodation. You know, the apartments they reserve for their most promising students. Sleek grey cabinets and polished floors, a kitchen to die for — it was no wonder you were barely ever at your own shitty little dorm. Every tri coloured ribbon that hung proudly beside her winnings wore a gleaming gold pendant on the end — just another display of her success. Walking around her sleek scholar apartment was so familiar to you that the glimmering display cabinet barely caught your eye anymore, but each time it did it welcomed a blossom of pride in your chest for your girlfriend, Abby Anderson.

Abby — casual rugby player, frequent at the boxing society, known for wooing her professors into raising her grades by showing up with her own engraved golf club to their country club and wowing them with her swing. But she was known for one thing and one thing only around campus, and that was being the captain of the basketball team.

She was ruthless, six feet and two inches of pure muscle and willpower on the court. The blonde braid, her trademark, swishing against her toned back — and if you’re seeing it, it’s because she’s already passed you with the ball that you had just bounced. You were no stranger to the sound of the orange ball thudding against laminate floors, and the squeaking of sneakers. Infact, it’s what brought the two of you together. No, you were not on the basketball team. You, were a cheerleader.

Not the captain, although that would have been beautifully cliche; the basketball ball team captain dating the captain of the cheerleading squad — take a shot every time you read the word captain, no seriously, quickest way to get wasted. You were happy that way, however. When you weren’t dancing, you were shy by nature. The change in your demeanour was a shock to the system every time — countless frat douches and friendly party goers stepping away wide eyed when they’d approach you, hoping for cheerleader charm and instead being met with a flustered squeak. It took a while for Abby to get through to you infact, as you can imagine — being a campus celebrity and all — approaching the shy girl was a mission she was willing to try again and again at, warming you up until you were eating right out of her big coarse palm.

The memory of your first meeting was still something that made her chuckle. She’d been crushing on you for a while before even saying a word — stealing heated glances at you whilst you were dancing or being tossed in the air — whilst you of course were convinced you had hallucinated The Abby Anderson acknowledging your existence. She was tired of stiffening up at your demure glances and flustered smiles directed at her, so all but marched over to you after winning a huge game. Pumped full of adrenaline, chest heaving as she chased her breath — you in her laser vision. You noticed the hair stuck to her forehead before she even spoke, the shape of an S.

“Hi—”

“I’m Abby.” She breathed out, like a total loser — she’d add.

“I… I know. I’m—”

“I know. Let me take you out. Please?” Don’t beg, Abby. “I asked your roommate if you liked girls.” You did not have to tell her that, jheez. Creep much?

“Oh…?” You couldn’t seem to close your mouth, trying to process what was happening and happening fast. For a moment you questioned whether you’d taken a tumble on that last cartwheel, currently blacked out on the floor in a concussion-hazed dream. Ooh, maybe Abby is carrying you to the infirmary.

“You can say no.” She rambled. She looked nervous for a moment and when you started to smile, so did she. “But… don’t.”

So you didn’t.

Abby was a dream. After you’d said yes, her confidence was slammed back into her and she was busying herself with planning ways to make you hers. She was confident and naturally dominant (Opening regular doors for you, opening car doors for you, hand on your lower back when you walked together…) without being arrogant. Humble, whilst holding herself with a presence that commanded nothing short of respect. She’d taken you for milkshakes for your first date, and you’d clicked instantly. Abby did everything right, which made your face hot and stomach clench up in nerves at the idea of doing something wrong infront of her. But that feeling melted away, the only two people in the small but admirable diner — Abby carrying the conversation for long enough until your shyness melted away, catching yourself in giggle fuelled rambles and debates.

You’d kissed her on the cheek at the end of the first date. So innocent, so sweet — she remembers thinking. She let you have that, didn’t try and go in for a kiss on the lips, stood outside your building. She was happy with her decision when you pulled back and just looked so fucking proud of yourself for taking such a leap. You exchanged some kind words, some gratitude with the small and humble bouquet Abby had showed up at your door with tucked under your arm — before you were flouncing away in your little sundress. Abby touched her hot cheek when she walked away, smiling ear to ear. Her fingertips grazed over a slightly sticky outline, and she picked up her pace to get home so that she could look in the mirror and catch the sight of your lipstick print on her face.

Current day, and you’re puffing out your cheeks — stepping into the sweaty auditorium. The humidity is a little stifling and you frown in disapproval, wondering when they’re going to be getting the fans fixed like they said they would. This time, tucked beneath your arm is Abby’s white water bottle, college logo printed along the side, that she’d left in your dorm when she’d dropped by the night before. Your eyes searched the room to spot her, and it didn’t take long as she pretty much towered over everyone — you stopped for a moment at the edge of the sports floor, chest inflamed by the sight of your squad members surrounding her, giggling.

You hate to say it, but whatever stereotype or rumour you’d heard about cheerleaders is true. Especially at your college, there was something so criminally But, I’m a Cheerleader (1999) about your squad in particular. You didn’t like to get involved in the drama, but sapphic drama was not unfamiliar to you. It was bizarre, everyone was friends — but their sporty girlfriends from outside of the team were getting passed around like peas. Abby had always been an object of their affection, but before you had started dating her she seemed out of reach — due to the fact the blonde quite literally never even glanced their way, too focused on the game, and whispers of ‘Abby doesn’t date sports team girls’ around campus. Since the two of you had been together, what — 10 months now? It seems to have refilled their confidence in being able to win her over, regardless of how you felt about it.

It was never direct. To anyone else, the group of you seemed like great friends — and you were the number one flyer, needing you as the centre piece for every dance. You were happy to get chucked in the air so long as they caught you, so as you can imagine; that element mixed with your shyness forced you into not confronting them all for flirting with Abby.

"No but if I had arms like this? Whew, no one would be safe. I'd be a slut... I mean I already am..." The cheer captain, Liv spoke, the other dancers squealing in agreement. Abby looked uncomfortable to say the least, forcing a polite smile and trying to wedge herself out the small hyena circle they had formed around her. A blossom of pride filled your chest when you saw the sheer relief in her eyes, her gaze landing on you. You surged forward into the light, smiling awkwardly at your peers as you approached your girlfriend. She bounced the orange ball on the ground once before tucking it under her arm, other bulging arm bringing you in for a quick hug. "Hi, baby." She chirped, happy to see you.

You wanted to enjoy the moment, but couldn't ignore the disapproving gazes from behind Abby's back, their faux-friendly smiles turning to not so subtle glances and snickers toward each other. Just ignore them. Abby didn't pay them any mind so why should you?

"Hi Abs." You lowered your voice, like you were hoping they'd get the hint and give you two privacy. They stuck around like flies, much to your disappointment. "You left your bottle at my dorm. Didn't want you to get dehydrated agai—"

"Awwww, you guys are so cute!" The bleach blonde base leader appeared beside your girlfriend, obnoxiously butting in and making a point to rest her hand on Abby's bicep. "I want what you have." She pout, but you couldn't help but feel that comment was directed more toward you.

"Oh—thanks." You chuckle, not quite meeting her eye. Abby took the bottle from you, shooting you a subtle ‘wtf?’ look which made you wanna giggle.

"Oh you refilled it, nice. Was so fuckin' thirsty." She smoothed a hand over your head gratefully as she brought the bottle to her lips and chugged, stepping away to address her team, their practice ending for the day, giving the cheerleaders the space to rehearse for tomorrow. "Alright team, circle up I got a few pointers." You heard her command, smiling as you watched her team members gather around her obediently. You snapped your eyes away toward the girl still stood by you, eyes slightly narrowed as she observed you. She looked away when you noticed her intense gaze.

As much as you hated to see Abby leave without you, it always brought you some kind of relief — knowing that your squad could actually focus on what you were there for, cheerleading — instead of fawning over your girlfriend, giggling, bending over in her direction to 'tie their laces'. You knew dating Abby would bring a lot of attention, and you knew that there must have been plenty of girls that were after her — but this whole thing with your own squad was getting pretty old. Sometimes you wished you weren't so shy, so you could give them a real stern talking to. You didn't wanna put it all on Abby, it wasn't fair, she didn't ask for this and plus it was your problem. You didn't wanna be that jealous and possessive girlfriend, did you?

The next day, Friday rolled around fast.

It took a lot to shake Abby’s confidence. She knew she was good at what she did, otherwise she wouldn’t be on such a prestigious scholarship, or have acquired the team captain title so fast — but she was nervous. The impending game was a big one, there was no room for fuck up’s. There had been talk of scouters for top women’s basketball leagues joining the audience, and Abby knew that if things went well it could really put her on the map, no — it was guaranteed.

Your eyes were fluttering closed, heavy after the long day you’d had perfecting your routine with the team. You were in your shabby little dorm, practically a hole in comparison to Abby’s sleek apartment. More times than not you’d stay with your girlfriend, calm eachothers nerves before a big game — but you had mutually decided that you’d both needed to ensure a perfect night’s sleep. Your phone laid beside your head on your pillow, the glow of Abby’s contact picture lighting up the small space around it. She was breathing slow and calm on the other line, clearly tired herself.

“And then you can come and stay at mine tomorrow after the game, and stuff.” She hummed, the sound of her shifting positions, her bedsheets rustling taking over the audio for just a moment.

“Mhm. ‘Can celebrate your win.” You smile, eyes now closed as you picture it all, nervous butterflies batting their wings against your stomach.

“Or mourn my loss.” She chides. “You can still come over either way.” Abby chuckles but it’s dry and humourless. She always got this way before a game, just a little pessimistic — doubting herself subtly through sly jokes and quiet comments. To anyone else, she’d still appear just as confident and carefree — but you knew Abby.

“Abs, don’t say that. Y’gonna win. Simple as.” You exhale, feeling your body sink further and further into the pillow. She was silent for a moment, considering it — probably doubting everything that had just come out your mouth, this time in her head.

“Hm.” You listened to her breathing, and it made you sleepier. “You’re tired baby. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” You wanted to protest, be there for her and soothe her nerves for a little longer until she felt ready to sleep but her voice was lulling you into a dozed state.

“You sure? I can… stay…” You could barely finish your sentence, making her chuckle tiredly.

“Yes, pretty girl. Gotta get your rest for tomorrow. Need you cheering me on up there, helps me play better.” She was smiling, you could hear it. Your heart swelled and you made a happy humming sound to after.

“Night Abby, seeyoutomorrowloveyou.” You sigh out in one breath.

“Night baby. Get some rest. I love you.”

The opening intro to Fergie’s — Fergalicious blared through the auditorium, your squad occupying half the court as you danced for the screaming crowd. Hips, hips, split jump, cartwheel — behind your bright smile you were counting steps, keeping your arms tight and straight, flickering your eyes towards the scoreboard. You looked properly as you stood on top of the pyramid, ankle by your head — burst of adrenaline and relief when your eyes landed on the numbers in glowing red, signifying that Abby’s team was still in the lead. You gracefully flipped, and were caught back on the ground, heart thundering in your chest as you continued on with the dance.

As rehearsed, the college mascot had run on, joining in on the dance. A ridiculous looking wolf with a brightly coloured t-shirt and cap on its furry head. He danced beside you, comedically shaking it’s hips in time with you. You glanced over at Abby, happy to see her looking eased, a slight smile on her face as she jogged away from the net, watching you dance. A few strands of her hair stuck to her face from sweating and it reminded you of the day she asked you out.

63-63 with three minutes to spare.

Your squad tried not to show that they were itching from the sidelines, eyes glued to the players as you were lined up by the benches, waving pom poms now and shouting your usual chants, trying not to get drowned out by the passionate yelling of the audience.

Be aggressive! B-E aggressive! I said be aggressive B-E aggressive! B-E A G G - R E S S I V E! Whooping the house down show ‘em who’s the leader — bring ya’ baby down down, go cheerleader!

You tried to keep your grin as you chant, moving your hips in time with your claps and arm movements as you watched Abby’s team mate miss the net, ball rebounding off the backboard. You caught a glimpse of the frustrated expression on Abby’s face, jogging around players and yelling directions over the crowd that seemed deafening at this point. You watched her eyes rake through the audience, looking for a talent scout shaking her head and drawing a big red cross on her clipboard or something. Her eyes then found you, a inkling of panic that was calmed by the tide that was your face staring right back at her, smile still plastered as you repeat your chants with your group. The sight of you surged something through her, she had to do it for you.

63-63 with two minutes to spare.

“Don’t worry guys, Abby’s got this.” Liv twinkled proudly, like the blonde captain even knew her name and you felt sick. Sick with nerves, sick with possessiveness, sick with irritation. You stomped your feet that little bit louder whilst you cheered, wanting to dash your pompoms at her head. You felt sweat trickling down your spine, head starting to pound from all the tension and noise. Was the crowd getting even louder? Where did you put your water bottle?

63-63 with one minute to spare, and there was no time to drink.

Even the chants stopped, the squad trailing off just to watch in awe. The sound barrier practically broke when the ball came to a thudding halt, caught mid pass by none other than Abby Anderson, basketball hero. This other team were good, frighteningly so — but they were no match for her. She dribbled with precision in and out of players until she met a wall of her opposition, closing in on her fast to snatch the ball. She turned left, turned right, looking for someone on her team she could rely on to get the ball in the net. The coach yelled from the side, the cheerleaders gripped eachother, the audience stood on their feet. Abby’s knees bent, arms extending. Everything went slow motion, like it always did as you watched with wide eyes. The ball didn’t circle round the hoop, it didn’t slide down from the backboard, it slammed straight through the net so hard you thought when it landed it might leave a dent in the ground.

63-64— and the crowd fucking exploded.

You were immediately jostled to the side by your squad jumping up and down, grabbing eachother with screams. You stumbled, jaw agape trying to catch sight of her. Where are you Abby? Let me see you.

She was suddenly there, expression mirroring yours. The world still moved slow, spotting eachother now. She took off toward you, dodging the grasp of a celebratory cheerleader, skidding past a team member that tried to pull her in, straight toward you. You met her half way, feet in control now and leapt, Abby getting the same idea and thrusting her arms around your waist, swinging you round in a circle. Then, you could both smile, and it didn’t stop growing, not even when you smashed your lips together. There was no sound anymore, no screaming crowd or cheering squad members — just your own delighted giggle against her, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, the back of her hot, sweaty neck in your palm, your teeth clashing together at the force of the kiss.

You pulled away to breathe and the sound returned like you’d just come back up from underwater, the yells, the cheers, the chanting of her name. “I did it I fucking— do you know what this— baby, i did it.” She was panting, forehead pressed to yours and hell, you couldn’t care less that it seemed the world was watching such an intimate moment.

“Your life’s gonna change Abby, i’m so proud of you.” You breathed, and before she could reply — expression of awe, and utter love struck, she was setting you down and her team was tearing her away, lifting her above their head, passing her another big golden trophy to add to her shelf. She held it in the air, and then came the flashing of cameras, the barrage of students running to celebrate with her. A cheerleader from the other team roughly brushed your shoulder as she passed you with a glare and you didn’t even stop to acknowledge her, just watching on with pride — hands clasped beneath your chin. Your Abby had won, and nothing else in that moment mattered.

8:04PM

“Is it braggy if I wear the jersey on top?” She was smirking a little, stood in front of you in all her glory in her apartment. You spun around at the vanity, eyes taking her in as you pulled your little pink dress further down your thighs.

Your girlfriend was showered, and dressed — donning her bright blue jersey over her grey hoodie and jeans. You grinned, standing up. She looked good, but she always looked good. You had to stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around her neck. “Don’t you think you deserve to brag, a little?” You flutter your eyelashes, tilting your head with a grin.

After every game that was won, a party was thrown at the house of one of the sports captains. It was tradition, and almost always it was in Abby’s honour, because she was almost always the star of every game. The one to think of a genius formation that would throw off the other team, the one to make changes last minute that would be the saving grace, the one to make the winning shot. Today was like no other, and you knew everyone was willing to go extra hard this time — after that win, Abby was like a fucking celebrity.

You felt like you were hit with a shockwave of noise as soon as you walked in. The bass from the speaker was all but vibrating the floorboards, the sticky…wet (?) floorboards. You blinked, accustoming yourself to the low lights, clinging onto Abby’s thick bicep as a swarm of people coming to greet her approached. Sometimes parties felt like survival, Abby being that buoy in a storm that you’d cling to until the tide had cleared. The music was loud as usual, familiar, what was the song playing? You recognised the familiar tune to Blame It by Jamie Foxx and T-Pain and nodded your head with a false confidence. Drink, I need a drink — you thought, detaching yourself from Abby to beeline to the makeshift bar once you’d spotted it. Not the punch, you weren’t stupid — you had no clue what people had put in there. Vodka… vodka where are you? You grabbed the clear bottle with the red lid and poured yourself a generous amount into your cup before filling the rest up with… what were your options— cranberry juice. Nice. This will get you by. You needed social skills tonight, Abby had won a huge game and you didn’t wanna drag her down with your shyness. You sipped, no — downed some of your drink with a wince, some liquid spilling down your chin. Alter ego activate, shyness be gone.

You found Abby again, and when she spotted you awkwardly trying to wedge yourself through a gap to get to her she slotted her arm through, parting the sea of people like Moses himself to pull you right up beside her, torso to her ribs. You could stay like this, right up on her— you wanted to stay like this, but you’ll be damned if your girlfriend wasn’t social.

It’s an hour later, you’re drunk, laughing at something dumb Manny had come up with, social for once — and you hear them before you see them. The gaggle. The malicious giggles, pitched just a little higher than their real laugh in an attempt to turn heads. It works, you turn, there stand your cheerleader friends. ‘Friends’.

You can tell they went hard with the pregaming because they’re clinging onto eachother, forcing their way through the party crowd like a cluster of germs. That’s mean, you think to yourself, shaking off that feeling — the ugly feeling rising in your stomach like scalding bile. Insecurity, the feeling immovable even when you’re drunk and joyous, lodged into you seemingly forever, an arrow with spikes. You push it down, push it down, push it down as they squeal and come towards you. It flares up with immense force when you catch their outfits. They’re all wearing ‘Anderson’ jerseys. Did they fucking buy personalised jerseys?

It’s like you step out of yourself for a moment because you reach out and take a hold of the jersey across the cheer captains chest, turning her around and pulling the material taut as you see ‘Anderson’ in crisp white font across her back, mocking you. Your mouth is agape, unfocused and she steadies herself, turning back around and grabbing you.

“You like ‘em?” She whoops and all the girls join her, fondling their jerseys proudly and looking around for more eyes.

“Personalised jerseys?” Is all you manage to let out, just a simple observation. Liv falters for a second, something mischievous twinkling in her eye, lip curling up ever so slightly.

“Baaabe, the manufacturer f’ed up our order, and we fell one short. But we figured you’d have your own one right?” She eyes you obviously. Her malice is hardly hidden anymore. “Abby didn’t give you her jersey?” She tilts her head, as if it were an innocent question. You bitc—

“Abby!” The copper haired girl behind her squeals and you don’t have to turn around to know your girlfriend has unknowingly made her presence clear and accessible. The troupe practically rush you, shoving past to circle Abby once more. The uncomfortable look the blonde had yesterday in the court was gone, the one drink she’d been harbouring all night loosening her up a little — which made that insecure, jealous feeling nestle itself back beneath your ribcage.

“Heeeey— ohhh, awesome!” She smiles in a friendly way when she notices their jerseys. The same friendly expression she’d give to anyone, not flirty or lusty in the slightest — but they’re grabbing at her and batting their lashes up at her like they want to jump on her there and then and you feel yourself trying to crush the red solo cup in your palm. You’re broken out of your enraged trance because your sweet, thoughtful girlfriend is pulling you through the crowd they made, grinning without a care in the world. “You see this babe? Ah, should have given you my one to wear huh?” She laughs, and they laugh, but for different reasons.

The girls leave her alone for a while, but God they’re always fucking watching. Finding ways to subtly interact with your girlfriend. Accidentally bumping into her, which she barely notices until they start profusely apologising. Dance moves becoming inherently more sexy when she turns in their direction — not even looking at them but oh do they try. You finish your drink, because you need to finish your drink— and succumb to the urge to be that girlfriend. Who gives a fuck? Maybe you are that girlfriend.

It didn’t feel like you when you impatiently tugged her away from Nora, another basketball player, mid conversation, hands clasped in Abby’s silky jersey, pulling yourself to her chest, your own tits squishing against her.

“Aaabs.” You whine, and it’s giddy, lustful because she just looks so good. She smirks down at you, letting you tug at her, letting you move her. She looks so into you in that moment and it just… somethings not enough. You’re glancing for your cheer team, and that hideous feeling of shame briefly twinges inside you. Are they watching this? Seeing me touch you? Do they know you’re mine?

“Baby.” She’s returning your giddy smile, and you have to pull away from a moment so that you could back up a little… a little more into the clearing… give them a perfect view.

“Y’look so good.” Is all you can say because it’s true, and you’re pretty sure your eyes completely glazed over— pupils shooting out wide when she grabs a handful of your ass, a little rough but in a loving way, just like the Abby you’re used to — using her grip to pull you back into her hard, a small ‘hmph!’ whimper forced out of you when you all but slam into her strong chest. You love it when she got like this. Grabby. Forgetting her own strength and manhandling you. You’d usually be giggling and shoving her away in public, but you craved the eyes now. You wanted viewers, jealous gazes, realisations — Abby is locked in.

“Oh it’s like that huh?” She’s chuckling at your expression. Forever her needy girl.

You sucked in your lower lip, eyes melting into that doe eyed expression that made her want to fuck it off your face, and she squeezes your ass a little harder. Your knees practically buckle, face burning hot because you feel your pussy spread open under your dress — as if she’s opening the floodgates by hand, wetness pouring out into your underwear. You hoped and prayed they were watching. Screw your little Anderson jerseys, she’s gonna be knuckle deep inside me in five minutes if the two of you kept this up.

“Cant wait to— mm—” You turn your head. Liv is snickering, whispering, but her expression says it all. Jealousy. You feel victorious. Abby curls a finger around your chin and your distracted gaze is back on her.

“Cant wait to what?” She glances in the direction of what you were staring at and your heart skips a beat.

“Can’t wait for you to remind me what a winner feels like.” You breathe out quickly and she’s back, smirking hard like she can’t control it. If she was packing, she’d be tilting her hips forward by now, digging her strap into the mound of your cunt through your thin dress where you stood — and it makes her wish she did pull the harness up her thick thighs beneath her jeans before the two of you left for the party.

“Yeah?” Her voice is breathy, low. “Forgotten already?” She chuckles, and she’s kind of right to— she was always winning, it wasn’t easy to forget.

“Mhm. Oops.” You shrug and you both giggle this time, her hands sliding around your waist. Each time her hands find a new spot on her you can’t help yourself from glancing over at the eyes. At Liv. At the whispers. Get a good fucking look.

Abby leans in, hot breath on your cheek and you turn back to her nearly knocking noses. Her brows are frowned a little and her cheeks rosy, lips parted in a way that made you wanna shove your tongue between them. “Give me… a little while longer to bask in this.” She chuckles, humble like she always was. She steals a kiss from your parted lips. “Can’t leave a party thrown for me so soon… just a little longer and I’ll take you home and give you a reminder, pretty girl.” her blunt finger nails rake behind your ear, scraping whatever hair was there backwards, pecking you again. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, hot and lethargic. You wanted to be obedient but something still negged at you, buzzed in your ear like a fly to ‘stay focused’.

You gripped her strong arms. An attempt at control.

“Don’t have to leave. Can just go upstairs. Right here right now.” You whined in an impatient way this time, fingers curling around her hoodie peeking from beneath her jersey. She blinked a few times and you knew she wasn’t a huge fan— Abby never liked quickies, especially not on a celebration. She wanted each time she fucked you to be memorable, like a performance — she was a love maker, and to her public quickies were usually just a little… euck.

Her soft smile remained, because the request only told her that you were desperate to have her. All the more reason to make you wait, she thought. Get you real worked up. Yeah, she could have fun with this.

“Not happening, babe. Wanna take my time on you, don’t you wanna have it out with me all night?” She tilted her head, persuading, blowing hot air over your mouth and God — yes, on one hand you wanted that badly but there you go again… eyes trailing off to the right… over to your cheer group. Show them. Drag me up the stairs Abby. Make me walk out the bathroom limping. Show them what they can’t have.

So you said “No!” and you were one quick movement from actually stomping your foot like a child. Abby looked taken aback, but she still chuckled. Not in a mean way, but was it ever? She leant back from you, trying to gauge just what was going on.

“No?”

“I need you here. You… stop denying me they’ll — they’ll see— it’s embarrassing—” The shovels in your hand and you’re digging that hole, deeper, deeper…

“Who will see? See what? Babe what’s with you?” The smile melts off and she’s frowning now. Ohhh, boy. You’ve fucked it up. You blink, like you’re trying to wake up from your petty possession. You look once more and they’re intrigued now, gossiping. Are they fighting? Will Abby be single by the end of the night? This enrages you more, but you don’t have time to react because Abby sees it now. See’s that envious look in your eye, but it’s not really envy — because Abby has never in her life given you a reason to be jealous. It’s uncharacteristic and Abby’s stomach twists a little. “Oh.” She steps back, no no no.

“Sorry.” You splutter out. “Sorry, sorry— I’m sorry Abby I don’t know what that was. I just freaked. I want you to bask in this, people are here to celebrate and you deserve that. Sorry. I don’t… know what I was thinking there.” You try and force out a chuckle at the end to lighten things but it doesn’t come out quite right. Abby watches you for a moment, a little tense and worried. Eventually she gives you a small smile, coming close to you again, a hand on your shoulder.

“S’okay. No more drinks yeah?” She’s gentle and you’re embarrassed, of everything really. This is meant to be the greatest night of Abby’s college career and you’re… doing this. Making it about you. Your shoulders slump a little before you shake yourself off physically.

“Yeah, no. Good call. Whew.” You smile and she smiles back. It’s all okay. You’re okay.

Except it’s not, and she knows that. Things are a little weird now, you’re distracted and trying too hard to please her. Eyes snapping towards her guiltily every time she catches your gaze wandering off, as if scared she’ll see you looking at those girls again fearfully. You stay right by her side, shyness creeping back in. You’re smiling in a polite, forced way, and she can tell you’re not really enjoying yourself anymore. Not after that weird moment. It gets a little later, and the party isn’t in as full of swing as it was before but still pretty lively. She can’t enjoy herself if you’re not, so why bother?

You watch her watch you, her shoulders dropping slightly when she sees how tense you look. Truthfully you were worried, you’d tried to show off — let your possessive urges control you — and now, insecurities at the surface you’d seem to make things worse. You didn’t know why you’d let this pick at you, get under your skin the way it has but the fact they’d all seen you have that weird moment? It was eating you alive. They were probably so smug, probably thought they stood a chance with Abby now. Your Abby.

“Babe let’s just go.” Your attention snaps back towards her, suddenly stood in front of you— her braid resting on her shoulder.

“What?”

“Yeah, no it’s— I can’t enjoy myself if you’re not. I’m not mad, baby I just don’t wanna force you to be here.” You feel so fucking bad.

“Abby, it’s not — I am enjoying myself. This is your party.” You express, coming close to her. Most of the alcohol had worn off by now, and you just felt sick from embarrassment— and this conversation was even more sobering. She shrugs, and looks around. It no longer seems to interest her.

“I know but… I’d rather you just be… not in this mood.” She speaks quietly but you hear her and your face falls. Did you really show yourself up that badly?

“Alright.” You match her pitch, and her back is to you again — saying goodbyes. You can’t look up, can’t look and see their disappointed faces. You wish you could close your ears, to not hear the choruses of ‘Already?’s and ‘Cmon Abby this is your party!’s. But you couldn’t keep your forlorn gaze glued to the ground for long, because you knew people would look at you, see your expression and know it’s your fault she’s leaving prematurely. You cursed yourself for caring too much about what people thought that night, and smiled politely in departure.

Abby took your hand, fingers locked into yours as she walked you toward the door, saying bye to people as she continued moving. You made the mistake of sparing your cheer team a departing look, and they were watching once more — glancing at each other curiously. Liv wiggled her eyebrows playfully as you passed her. “Ooo, someone’s in trouble.” She snickered, and your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t start crying until the car was half way down the street. You’d tried to keep it silent at first. But the car was already silent, the radio not turned on and Abby not saying anything. You didn’t know what the silence meant, you just knew you didn’t like it. Maybe she was reconsidering things. You’d ruined her night, the night that was supposed to be all hers and you took it from her — all because of your petty, jealous, insecurities. That wasn’t the kind of girlfriend she deserved, you were supposed to put all your focus into supporting her. Exist for her. She’d never given you a reason to worry about other girls but for fucks sake — those girls. You let them walk all over you every single day and now they were all talking. All coming up with schemes to take Abby from you, thinking your relationship was on the rocks and maybe it would work. After how you acted tonight, maybe it would fucking work.

You covered your face when the tears started really coming down hard, a quiet sob shuddering out of you. Abby glanced at you, jaw tensing a little. Not because she was angry, just because she was so confused about how you’d gotten here. She’d never seen you like this before and just… what had she done to get you so fucked up like this? She spoke your name, calmly — full of authority and a little detached, not cooing it gently like she would when she’s seen you cry in the past. Her tone made another sob hiccup out, and she spoke it again. “Look at me.”

You did, and you had to wipe the snot from beneath your nose so that it didn’t stick to your hands when you pulled them away. Your makeup was ruined, eyes sore and red and she glanced over you, her main focus on the road.

“Just… breathe and calm down. We are gonna talk about this when we get home.” She shakes her head a little, eyes on the road. Your heart aches and soothes a little at her calling her student apartment ‘home’ like it belonged to the both of you. You don’t have time to indulge the fantasy. “I don’t… understand this… tantrum babe.” She mutters like she’s too mature for it all and she is, which makes you all the more embarrassed. She doesn’t speak for the rest of the journey home, tear drops on her expensive leather seats. Well — she doesn’t speak if you don’t include the occasional “Breathe.” and such when she’d hear your breathing start to pick up, upsetting yourself all over again.

She walked you up to her apartment and you hugged yourself as you stood behind her, watching her unlock her door. She held the door open for you, but didn’t look at you when you walked through — unsurely looking around like you’d never been there before. You wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. Did she want to talk now?

You stood in the hallway and her warm hands gently came down onto your shoulders.

“Go sit down on the couch.”

When Abby tells you what to do, you do it. And not because she’s scary, or intimidating or aggressive. She just carries this… air to her. One that makes you want to respect her, no matter how worked up or pissed off or upset you are. It would be the same way every single time, she’ll calmly make a demand and you fucking do it. Of course, minus the mini ‘tantrum’, as she so kindly put it, you had.

She didn’t follow you, infact — she walked the other way to her bedroom, hearing the door click shut when you made your way into her living room area. The leather couch that was usually home to so much love and affection now cold against your skin when you sit down on it, the sleek material frigid from not being touched for hours on end. You bring your knees together shivering a little, and a few minutes later Abby returns. She wields a makeup wipe, and presses it into your palm silently when she lowers herself into the arm chair opposite you. You want to cry out like a baby and reach for her, ask her why she’s sitting so far away but you have to be good. You have to fix everything.

Abby’s thighs spread as she leans forward, staring you down analytically with her elbows on her knees, long fingers wringing her wrists before she looks down at them, puffing out her cheeks with a long exhale. You wait for her to speak, wiping the gooey eye makeup up from your cheeks and eyes.

“Tell me… what this is all about.” Her voice holds a quiet kindness this time, despite the line that appears between her brows as her expression becomes a little exasperated.

You suck in a quick breath, eager to explain yourself and beg for forgiveness — “Nothing I was just being —”

“The truth.” She raised her hand to speak which silenced you instantly. You press your lips together, letting two fat residual tears race down your cheeks either side, the left tear winning victoriously when it surpassed your jaw and streamed lazily along your neck. Abby watched it move.

You thought this time. No more covering it up. No more being immature. Be truthful. What was this all about again?

“I think…” You gulped, willing yourself to be brave. You knew Abby might not see you as a ‘chill’ girlfriend anymore— exposing your insecurities and jealousy — but she wanted the truth and being a liar was objectively worse. “The girls on my cheer team are… I think they’re picking on me.” You admit quietly and her brows jump up, intrigued. Not quite what she was expecting. She stays quiet and you carry on. “I’m not… I don’t wanna be toxic and jealous. I let it get the better of me tonight. They’re always… flirting with you, talkin’ about you, showing off to you, trying to get your attention and at first I didn’t care because, I have you, you know? And you’ve never given me any reason to believe your eyes have wandered but fuck it’s so hard when they’re just… relentless. And beautiful and confident and I’m… I know what people think Abby. I know I’m shy and people wonder how…” You trail off, and you’re not sure you wanna admit any more. Not after that explosive rant.

“People wonder how what?” She pushes, and she’s scooched so far onto the edge of her seat that her long legs are bunched up and she’s barely perched on it.

“Wonder how… I got you. Why you stay with me.”

The confusion just melts off her face.

She blinks a couple of times, feeling like someone just placed her heart in a panini press hearing your sad and small tone of voice. So small, and she can tell you really believe what you’re saying and it just kills her. She wants to reach out then and there and hold you and kiss you and cry for you but you’re talking again.

“And I know you’re not a trophy and I don’t see you that way, please don’t think I ever—”

“No, no no no.” Abby cuts you off as a correction, eyes shut as she scrubs a hand down her face. She gets it now. The jealousy. Clearly, you hadn’t noticed the wandering eyes of her basketball team players, smirking over at you when your little cheer skirt that was too short for everyone’s good would flip up, shaking your hips in your adorable little routines. How if she didn’t keep you on her arm at every party, frat boys would start to circle you like crows, waiting to pounce until they realise, holy shit that’s Abby’s girl, and back off. If anyone got it, it was her. “You don’t need to explain anymore I’m… sorry. Come here, please.” Her pained expression relieves you and also devastates you because now she’s blaming herself.

You listen, again, because it’s Abby and you push off the couch to stand in front of her on the arm chair. She pulls you to sit sideways on her leg, thick arms wrapping around your waist protectively. She looks up at you, brows furrowed.

“You are beautiful. I don’t… want anyone else. Ever. I love you, baby. You know I love you? You know I don’t give a fuck about any of those other girls. They’re not you they’re not… c’mon.” That gentle cooing voice has broken through and more tears slide down your raw cheeks. She’s wiping them away this time, coarse thumb swiping the moisture until it absorbs into her skin, becoming apart of her.

You sniffle, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry. This is your night and you’re comforting me. I promise I’m happy for you.” You hiccup into her neck when she pulls you in, and you feel her shake her head because her braid tickles your arm.

“I don’t care.” She chuckles honestly and cups your face to pull you back, make you look at her. She’s so beautiful you want to cry some more. “I don’t. It could be my birthday and I’d still look after you. You’re my girl, yeah? You over everything.” She exaggerates, moving her head slightly to meet your eyes when you try to shamefully drift them away.

“Kay. Love you, Abby. M’so lucky.” She feels you sigh in relief and your body relaxes just a little bit. Her hands slide around your back and press into the muscle, massaging and rubbing — trying to get you to just melt and become one with her when you cuddle her.

“I’m lucky.” She speaks into your temple, pressing kisses there. She manages to gently manoeuvre you until her lips are pressing the same quick succession of kisses onto your swollen pouty lips. She hums in satisfaction and you feel something stir in your tummy. The hum was almost primal, one that said ‘this is mine.’ You wanted to hear the noise again. Without too much thought behind it, you turn to sit on her lap fully, facing her now. You pull yourself closer with your arms around her neck and your kisses begin to dot along her jawline. Come on Abby, make the pretty noise.

She sighs, tilting her head for your access and thinks. Thinks over everything that had just happened. Maybe she hadn’t done enough, her brain had been so focused on winning the game that perhaps she’d forgotten to reassure you when you needed it, and she knew how important reassurance was in a relationship. An urge spread through her body, starting in her stomach like an icy cold lake and travelling up to her chest like molten lava. The urge to just… give you everything. Everything you wanted and needed. Everything you couldn’t ask for and everything she should have given you. Abby had always harboured a ‘spoiling’ side, and in that moment it had kicked in hard.

She pulled the strap of your dress off your shoulder, letting your head tip back this time as she sucked and nipped at the soft skin there. She loved how opposite you were to her, when she was sweaty and rough around the edges after a game you were still impossibly soft everywhere, still smelled sweet and clean and like you, like she was a wild lion coming to lay her cheek in your gentle hand after slaughtering a deer.

You squirmed on her lap and Abby jumped between your lips and your skin, feeling that beautifully familiar warmth begin to spread through your underwear again. Starting with your clit starting to throb when she’d gently buck her thighs below you — all the way to your hole that started to ache and crave the feeling of her inside. Her tongue lapped up your own, sucking obscenely as her hands pushed your lower back, bringing you higher on her lap and— oh?

You were now sitting atop a bulge. One that wasn’t there at the party. You thought back to her disappearing into her room as you sat down on the couch when you’d arrived back at the apartment and smiled at the feeling against her lips. So calculated, Abby — and she smiled back because she knew. Knew she was gonna have to fuck the attitude out of you after your talk, she just didn’t expect you to fold so easily. For it to take such an emotional direction. She could just tease you for being a cry baby, but where’s the fun in that?

You start to grind like you just can’t help yourself, your shared saliva pooling beneath your pouty bottom lip as the kisses became more sloppy and intense. You swore you could never get over how good it felt to hump against her jeans in just your panties, the combination of materials and the writhing of your hips always leaving you gasping. Abby too, the way the strap was positioned would press snugly against her clit making her breath stutter against your lips. She refocused herself, fingers tugging your dress up to your waist. Enough had been about her tonight she’d decided, now she wanted to make it all about you.

You detached for a moment to pull your dress over your head, lips meeting once more as she tossed it aside. Next came the unclasping of your bra, and then she was sliding your thong down your legs. When she balled it up to chuck aside she felt the wetness in her palm.

You stood over her now, the one time you weren’t shy — stark naked. She’d made you so comfortable over the ten months you’d been together it wasn’t even something you’d take a second worrying about anymore, Abby knowing the map of your body like the back of her hand. She made you feel so safe with her gentle-ness. Abby, big scary Abigail Anderson, Abby ‘i’ll beat your fucking face in if you step up to me outside the basketball court, no seriously repeat what the fuck you just said’ Anderson. And you’ve reduced her to this gentle, loving giant. Someone who was rubbing her big hand up your tummy as her thighs caged you in where you stood. Reaching for your breast and just rolling her thumb over your nipple making your legs quiver a little. All her stoicism that everyone else knew her for had melted away, her eyes soft and loving as she gazed at you, touching you.

She reached up and began tugging her jersey off over her head, leaving her in the grey hoodie. Where you expected her to toss it aside with the heap that was your pink dress and underwear, she brought her attention to it, bunching it up and opening up the head hole of the shirt. “C’mere.” She muttered, standing up over you, your neck suddenly craning to meet her eye. “Put it on. Fuck those other girls cheap ass jerseys. My girl gets the real deal.” She’s speaking so quietly that you feel like she’s talking to herself, that you shouldn’t intrude her stream of thoughts — even if the words made you literally clench your hole so tight you could crush a fucking walnut in there.

She slipped it over your head and pulled your arms through the arm holes, stepping back with her hands on your shoulders so she could look at you. Look down at you. See the way you stared up at her tall frame, her jersey swamping you and resting beneath the swell of the plump under-cup of your ass cheeks. “Looking good babe.” She smiles, holding you back to carry on looking at you even when you try and lurch forward, hands loose-fisted and grabby as you try and climb all up on her again where she stood. She subdued you by taking your hand, walking away and practically dragging you along behind her. “C’mon, this way. Not fucking you on the couch.” Though it wouldn’t be the first time.

She had you on her lap again in no time, her feet planted heavily on the floor as you press into her cloaked strap, legs stretched over her thighs making you ache in that delicious way that said nothing more than ‘my girlfriend is fucking huge, the gym fears her’. Impatient, you’re tugging her hand that was cupping your throat, pushing it down, down between your thighs. She pulls away, a little breathless with her mouth all red when she slides her fingers through your cunt, eyes on your hard nipples creating little mountain peaks against her jersey as you breathe heavy in her face. “Soaked, baby. Have you been needing me like this all night?” She’s whispering before her lips are on yours again, stroking your little bundle of nerves head on, making your legs flatten out and tense in the air with a quiet yelp. “I know.” She hums, and that’s all it takes to soothe you. Yes, she knows. She always knows. It was Abby for gods sake, if anyone knew exactly what you needed… well.

After torturous stroking, Abby’s middle finger curls down right to where your hole is, pressing and massaging and teasing. She knows you want her inside, you want more than her fingers, fuck — if you could you’d just consume her whole but this will definitely do the trick. “I want you,” she starts, slurred by the open mouth kiss she’s pressing to your shoulder now. “To ask me nicely. Not like you did earlier. Show me my good girl.” She whispered, like it was one last attempt at being strict before she just gave in and spoiled you. It fooled you, anyways— your mouth falling open with a whine as her thumb pressed up against your clit.

“Please Abby— ‘ll be a good girl now okay? Wanna be your good girl.” You’re blabbering against her cheek and she doesn’t fight you on it, pushing inside you and basking in the way you give her a welcoming squeeze upon entry.

“How are you still so tight? After I’ve abused that pretty pussy so many times?” She sighs, tone suggesting that she’s actually pondering it at a moment like this. You don’t have the strength to respond, fucking against her fingers. You loved foreplay with Abby, don’t ever doubt that for a second — but tonight there was something different, it just felt like preparation. The two of you knew that tonight of all nights you needed to get fucked with her cock, and that would be the main event. She could barely wait, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t loosen you up around her callous digits first so she can slip right inside of you easily.

She slips another finger inside you and you black out a little bit, like you always do. Maybe it was all the emotions finally catching up with you, but you just go limp in her lap, letting her finger fuck you the way you need. “Prettiest girl ever. Don’t know what the fuck you were worried about. Gonna fuck it out your brain tonight, yeah?” She’s cooing again and she knows that’s your sweet spot, that tone of voice doing it for you every damn time. If anything was gonna make you cum quick, it’s gonna be the sympathetic drag of her voice as she ensures you that you don’t have to think anymore.

“Yeah Abby, please! Yeah!” You sound pornagraphic and your spine flushes hot at the idea of the surrounding students in her neighbouring apartments hearing any of this — though it wouldn’t be the first time (as told by the passive aggressive post-it note left on her door reading ‘Keep it down we don’t all need to hear your girl busting a nut.’ that one time. You didn’t live down the humiliation for a week, and Abby of course only took it as a challenge to make you moan louder despite your pleas of ‘Abby! You’re going to get kicked out of your building!’ whilst her head was in your crotch. Anyway—)

She was practically vibrating her hand at this point, fingers squelching in and out of you with sounds so mortifying that if you weren’t experiencing such euphoria perhaps you’d bury your face into her cuss her out for embarrassing you. You, were slurring a made up language made of her name, curse words and just down-right vulgarity as you felt your stomach lock up in that scaldingly familiarly way. Abby chuckled, smug at your babbling, responding with “Yeah?” and “Uh-huh?” until you were clenching hard around her fingers halting their movement slightly, which gave her the green light to move onto “Thats it baby, cum for me. Just getting started with you tonight. Give it to me, pretty girl.”

You went numb, pretty much everywhere but your cunt — something high pitched and feral deafening you through the impending white noise of your orgasm — wait, was that you? You could hardly breathe, and when some feeling returned to you, you felt stickiness all along the inner sides of your thighs and seeping into the rough denim of Abby’s lap below you. Jesus… did she make you—?

“Shit babe, fucking… baptised me there.” She pants, like she was the one that just received an earth shattering orgasm and you collapse against the strong muscle of her shoulder, trying to self soothe— trying to ground yourself. You twitched, her fingers stilling within you at the tell-tale sign of overstimulation. She pulled them out, rubbing her thumb on your bare hip as she pressed her chin to her chest looking down between your bodies, admiring the gooey mess you’d left on her. “Already got a little fountain going on down there baby, we haven’t even been going at it for that long.” She teases with a grin in a way you know is meant to be praise because as soon as you lift your head she’s attacking your hot cheeks with kisses.

“S’embarrassing.” You whimper, despite your small giddy smile and she tsks a little, hand creeping up to your throat, holding your sturdily there.

“If you’re still finding things embarrassing, it’s because I haven’t fucked all those bad thoughts from today out that pretty little head yet. You still want it?” She’s speaking against your lips now, effortlessly pushing her hips up beneath you and rolling her strap into your sensitive cunt again. Is that even a question?

“Still— still want it—”

You weren’t finished speaking, and Abby is moving at the speed of light. She cups your beneath your ass with one hand, still using your delicate neck as her main grabbing point— she twists the two of you, so suddenly you’re on your back and she’s hovering over you, all in one quick succession that makes your head spin. Your back bounces against the bed, bounces you into her and her thumb soothes over your throat. “Hands still working baby?” She kisses the corner of your mouth. You flex your fingers out of her vision, testing.

“Yes.”

“Undo my belt then, pretty.” It’s clear she still needs both of her hands to caress you, so you get to work, shakily reaching for the leather tucked within the denim waistband of her jeans. It’s smooth and feels expensive beneath your fingers, and the sound of the buckle clinking makes you squeeze out more of the residual arousal you’d spewed out only minutes prior. It’s like she can tell it does something for you, because her tough pads of her fingers come and rest on your sensitive clit again, just rubbing slow lethargic circles making it harder to pull the belt out of the loops. “Thats my girl.” She helps you, taking the belt and placing it aside.

She does the rest, because you just weren’t moving efficiently enough for her liking, one hand sliding up your soft arm until she’s pinning your wrist gently to the bed, fingers intertwining with yours, and the other hand deftly unpopping the button of her jeans and sliding the zipper down. She pulls the familiar plastic cock out, adjusting her hips and resting the shaft along your tummy, tip grazing just below your belly button. “Think you’re ready for me now?” She leans forward, nudging your chin with her own to get your lips where she needed to capture them, sucking on your bottom lip barely allowing you to sigh out a pleasured “Uh-huh.” against her.

She sits up, pulling her hoodie off leaving her in just a fitted black wifebeater and the pace of everything changes all of a sudden. It’s less desperate and more purposeful, coming into her dominance and remaining control like she always did. She leant over you, reaching for the lube in the bedside drawer and leant back, drizzling it over the shaft. You reached forward without thinking and massaged it around for her, looking up at her with those big needy puppy dog eyes. She groaned, like you were actually jerking her off — greedily yanking her jersey up to sit above your plush tits for her viewing pleasure.

“Fuck… so pretty… Alright baby, deep breath in for me.”

She looked so good like this, hair stuck to her face and neck, jeans pulled just below her peachy ass being cupped by the ropey black harness. The royal blue plastic glistening as she slides it up and down your willing cunt. Her biceps bulging from holding herself up above you, making you just want to sink your teeth into her. Abby was a work of fucking art.

You follow her instructions, Abby kissing away your strained whimpers at the stretch. It only made sense that Abby Anderson, home to all BDE — was weighed down by a fucking monster of a strap, 7 and a half inches, thick and dark blue with added detail of veins and a fat tip. When you first slept together, after one very successful date, sitting on her lap in that little innocent floral dress that rode up your doughy thighs just right — she thought about calling the whole thing off until she could get her hands on a strap a little smaller and less threatening. Until, of course — your wide and blameless eyes were staring up at her, hand barely wrapping around it as you thickly muttered out a ‘I can take it Abby. Let me take you’, and the rest is obviously history.

She sighed out once she was fully seated in you, like it was a relief, like one day you might not be able to take her fully and she’d have to practise even more self restraint by thrusting in halfsies. You tensed up, suddenly aware of the situation again. A spike of sickly anxiety washed through your stomach. Did you deserve this? After the havoc you caused today? “Pretty girl. Let me in that head.” She whispers and it hypnotises you as she thrusts slowly, just grinding her hips against yours.

“Don’t — mmphm— don’t deserve this.” Your voice is high and a little panicked, and Abby’s eyes open to pin you down with her grounding gaze. She knocks your chin up gently toward her as if to say ‘look at me.’ and she rests her hand over your chest, feeling the hammering of your heart as you very suddenly become overwhelmed.

“Hey.” She drags calmly, raising her eyebrows. You try and relax, copying her breathing because you knew she was about to tell you to do that anyway. “Sweet girl.” She thumbs your cheek. “You deserve every last inch of this fucking cock.” She’s whispering again and you cry, hard. She picks up on what you need, and she presses up deeper into you, making your legs flail before wrapping tightly around her ass, your tits bouncing obscenely to the rhythm of her thrusts. “My perfect girl. Don’t have to worry about anything ever again. Yeah? Gonna fucking… go pro ball, make you my pretty little courtside wife. How’s that sound?” She starts to thrust a bit harder and you’re stunned out of your freak out session, distracted by her words and overcome by pleasure as you just listen. Interested to see where this fantasy will go.

“Yes.” Is all you manage and it’s barely audible but she hears it, and carries on.

“Gonna make it to WNBA for you baby. Not for me. So I can spoil you for the rest of my fucking life.” She grits her teeth, her big rough hands sliding around your back so she can cradle you, use your body to fuck you on and off her cock. You whine, barely aware of the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. “You wanna give me that baby? Let me buy you every pair of shoes and stupidly priced handbags so you can look pretty for me at every game? Yeah?” Her voice is higher pitched and you think she might cum at some point, but she’s too determined to fuck your lights out completely for any of that.

“W—want that Abs, want you— I want —”

She’s interrupting, not finished with stuffing this fantasy into your brain until there’s nothing there but the manifestation of those thoughts. “You won’t even remember those girls on your cheer squad. They’ll be nobodies. You think I’d ever fucking look at anyone else but you, hm? My pretty little wife?”

Just when you think things can’t get more intense, she’s decided that she’s not physically deep enough — and pushes your thighs up to your chest, knees squishing against your tits as she stretched you, grunting out a “Fuck”, a sign of her losing control for a second. “N’then after every game. Can take you.. fuck, can take you shopping, fly you out wherever you want. Slut you out, just like this. You want that life baby don’t you? You wanna give me that life?” Your brain is muddled, and you can’t tell if you’re begging her or she’s begging you. Your mouth is open, but the air is punched from you and you’re just squeaking like a dog toy and she pounds your little cunt.

She reaches for what seems to be your on button, shoving her thumb between your lifted legs and grinding your abused clit again. “Wanna— wanna be your wife Abby. Want — I wanna—” You’re rambling, and then you’re cumming, harder than you’ve cum in your life. Your throat is raw, nails clawing for something, some kind of life support as she fucks you through your orgasm, breathless and determined. You vaguely feel yourself marking up her skin with your nails, but you’re never fully aware of yourself doing it — always just as shocked and guilty when you see the red streaks across her freckled skin the next morning whilst she’s brushing her teeth in the bathroom with a towel around her waist.

“Good girl. My good fucking girl you take it all. Take what I’m giving you.”

And you do, because when she goes to slow down you’re whining and bucking against her strap— fuck drunk and obsessive, finally getting to that dumb place she needs you to be able to rid of all those negative ideas you had about yourself earlier. She lets you breathe as she thinks about it, thinks about the way you misbehaved and the way you wouldn’t use your words. Maybe there was still more in you, more room for some reinforcement.

That’s why approximately five minutes later you had your cheek to the pillow having been pressed there by the basketball captain herself, Abby’s foot up on the bed and your ass in the hair as she drilled into your weeping pussy.

She pushes your back down, against the protests and your cries and your “Can’t Abs, so deep!” muttering for you to “Just fucking take it, sweet girl. I’m not asking.”

You give in and let her, already feeling yourself close to another animalistic style orgasm which only leaves your heart aching for your peeved neighbours that were probably just trying to sleep.

“You gonna listen next time, huh?” You don’t know how she has the endurance to keep slamming into you like this, wife beater pulled up above her sweat-gleaming abs now to not obstruct her vision of her creamy strap pounding in and out your soft flushed pussy. “You tell me when you fucking need me, yeah? You tell me when you’re feeling a type of way and you need me to reassure you from now on.” She waits a beat, and you wail. “Say yes.” She adds in command.

“Yeees!” You cry.

“Say yes Abby.”

“Yes Abby!”

You’re pretty much on autopilot at this point, brain so empty that all it knows is to do exactly what Abby says at all times, chasing that lingering tight coil in your stomach that whispered ‘cum one more time for her’ in your ear in a saccharine sweet voice that just about convinced you. Adding onto the persuasion, Abby’s weight dropped a little more onto you, hot torso against your back and hips grinding feverishly into you still. “Give me one more then. One more and that’s it baby. Keep being good for me.”

So you do, again, and this one is different from the rest — it’s your last drop, your last spot of energy. You’re weeping and grabbing and you feel it ooze out of you around the punishing blue plastic, and when you’ve done it Abby gets softer, kissing your spine and pulling out, so much praise your brain can’t even register it through your submissive fog.

“Did so good baby. So perfect, angel. Love you so much, my girl.”

She was cleaning you up before you could blink with a cold wet wipe from her bed side draw, practically scooping out endless amounts of your creamy arousal as you whimper at the sensitivity.

“Cold” You whisper, and you’re not sure if it was by choice seeing as you didn’t think you had a voice at that point.

“I know.” She chuckled, voice low and hands gentle— stroking the backs of your thighs as you stay on your front, legs trembling now as the adrenaline dwindles in your body. “Did so good for me. Let’s roll you over.”

She’s kicked off her jeans and her harness, now just in her boxers and wife beater— eyes flickering to your hands tugging at the jersey.

“Want it off. Wanna feel you.” You mumble sleepily once you’re on your back, desperately craving your skin on hers. She cradles your neck as she obliges, slipping the material up and over your head and pulling you into her.

You knew she carried on doting on you after you’d fallen asleep, and truthfully you don’t remember when you fell asleep — somewhere between her wiping you down and peppering kisses across your whole body — but like usual, her strap had knocked you the fuck out, and before you knew it you were waking up, disorientated by the morning sun flooding in through the blinds. Your senses start to arrive back to your body and you note them off like a checklist in your foggy brain. Touch, Abby’s arms locked around your waist. Sight, the blinding laser beam of sun attacking your eyeballs. Smell, Abby. Hearing, Abby. And the birds tweeting.

You roll, twisting in her arms so that your head was tucking beneath her chin against her chest, breathing her in and relishing in the way her skin stayed warm through the night like an electric blanket, unlike your own — cold to the touch from kicking off your side of the duvet.

She’s still fast asleep, always the heavy sleeper and after the game and the party you decide that big girl needs her rest, even if you’re now wide awake and staring at her. She looked like a painting, pouty lips swollen from a night of kissing, honeyed hair still in its braid but totally messed up now, pale blonde baby hairs sticking up and around her face. Her dark lashes kissed beneath her eyes and her chest moved up and down like the slow rocking of a small boat on a calm tide. You smiled when the sun slid further into the sky and created a beam across her eyes, making her scrunch them in her sleep and bury her face into the pillow.

You remember peeing last night now, before you’d fallen asleep — Abby carrying your warm, dazed body to the bathroom and sitting you on the toilet, letting you lean your cheek against her tummy to hold you up as you pee’d, gently shushing your complaints about removing you from the bed.

“S’not good for you to hold your pee after sex, babe.”

“M’sleepy. ‘Don’t care if I get a UFO.”

“UTI. And I care.”

You slowly slide out the bed careful not to wake your girlfriend, on a hunt for your phone. You pull Abby’s jersey back over your head for coverage and tiptoe out the room. Where did you put your bag again? You find it tossed on the couch haphazardly where you left it and fished through it, leaning on the back of her leather couch as you scrolled through. Your thumb tapped the Instagram logo and loaded it up, automatically gravitating towards Abby’s story, displayed at the top of the screen. You pressed it, expecting to see some kind of victory shot of her holding the trophy or a picture with her team, but instead were met with a photo of you that she’d taken when you’d fallen asleep last night— your head turned the other way on the pillow, arms tucked beneath it. Bare back glowing in the dim light of the room, bed covers resting at your waist. The caption reads: ‘Future WNBA wife.’ followed by your @.

Any other day you might gasp, due to the nature of the picture being that — well — it’s clear even to the untrained eye that you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. But you grin, glowing from the inside out. She was showing you off, indirectly reassuring you even more because she knows you need it. You press a heart on the story, stepping in the direction of the bedroom to attack her sleepy face with kisses— but your eyes catch on the kitchen instead.

The perks of dating someone with such a buff body, was that they always would be stocked up on plenty of food. Not like your dorm, thinking back to the microwave meals and tins of soup stocked up in your kitchen made you grimace. You swung open her refrigerator door, gathering ingredients to whip her up a winners breakfast.

Having made everything from scratch, by the time the breakfast was nearly ready you’d heard Abby stir and climb out of bed, disturbed by the accidental clattering of pots and pans. The water ran for a while, and as you turned off the stove — removing her frying pan of eggs, you’d heard her heavy feet plodding into the room.

You nearly burnt yourself at the sight of her, sweatpants pulled up low on her waist, no shirt, red scratches from your overexcited claws the night before wrapping around her bicep and over her left shoulder, assumably trailing down onto her back, and her hair down — a little damp, falling messily across her small chest. You offered her a small smile as she took in the scene, looking very serious about it too you might add. Turning around back to the chopping board to prepare some turkey bacon for her you felt her crowd you. A shadow casted over you. You were suddenly smaller.

“Makin’ me breakfast? Was I that good?” She rasped, huge hands sliding around your waist — instantly dwarfing you some more.

“Mhm. Breakfast for a winner.” You chirped quietly, too early to be excitable.

“Really leaning into this whole housewife thing aren’t you baby?” She chuckles and your face heats up. Is it that obvious? She presses kisses to the side of your neck, hands grabbing you all over. Involuntarily, you arch your back— pressing your ass into her crotch and she winces.

You freeze up, knife clattering out of your hand onto the wooden chopping board and brows furrowing at the way her fingers tighten around your waist, lips by your temple now. You’re practically pinned to the counter, hands flexed wide on the smooth surface when you grind back against her again experimentally.

She’d never admit it, but last night had left her wanting, which she expected was selfishness considering she vowed to make it all about you. She pulled you back against her, your plush ass beneath just her jersey thumping against her clit again — nothing but that and the material of her sweatpants brushing up against her swollen button. You whimpered a little, not making it better for anyone and found your rhythm, rubbing and humping back on her, feeling her exposed tits against your back. “Like this?” You whine, and tug up the jersey so your bare ass is on display now, just a vessel for Abby to get off on.

“Just like that, pretty.”

The sight makes her push into you a little harder, bending you over the counter when there’s nowhere else to go. She continues humping you, leaning over you and kissing you, curling her toes against the tiles until she explodes into quiet, low gasps and groans— leaking into the grey material as you help her along with encouraging noises.

“Fuck babe, fuckprettygirl— my god.” She pants, leaning over you and pressing a kiss onto your back before tugging your jersey back down with a chuckle after a minute of panting and coming down. “Gonna put me back to sleep.” She gives your ass a loving slap, grabbing the flesh of it in her meaty hand before walking around you to lean against the counter top tiredly. You giggle, shaky hands getting back to food prep as she watches you with fond eyes. “How you feeling? All good?” She analyses, mind still on your series of mini freak out’s the night before.

Your eyes are on the turkey as you continue slicing shyly. “Sore. But all good.”

“Sorry baby.” Her thumb rubs your arm sympathetically.

“No I— I like it. Like feeling you the next day.” You don’t look at her, you can’t, but you know she’s grinning.

“Good.”

She disappears for a minute and reappears with her phone, scrolling, checking notifications. You begin to plate up her breakfast, feeling her hands wrap around your waist again, her phone held by your chest as her chin rests on your shoulder, leaning over you. “Your little friends saw my story of you. Think by now they get the message.” She smirks and you giggle, turning your head to kiss her on the cheek.

“I think so too.”

“If not, I’ll just have to make it clearer, yeah? ‘ll fuck you infront of ‘em if that’s what it takes.”

Your eyes widen as she backs off, going to help you plate up the big breakfast you’d made. You didn’t think that would be necessary anymore, feeling much more secure now but your achey, abused core twitched at the idea anyway— not totally against it.

You’ll pocket that for later.

#abby anderson x reader #basketball!abby #abby anderson smut #abby anderson au #modern!abby #jock!abby

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minjix · 1 year

Text

omegle.com → Vinnie Hacker x reader

summary: in which a blonde boy with messy hair and tattoos makes you smile.

a/n: so badly written omg :(

warnings: penises are mentioned which basically is omegles trademark lol, + the usual swearing

masterlist

You sighed as the screen turned gray once more after being swore at by a group of teenage girls. You came onto the notorious sight purely out of boredom and a sense of twisted curiosity hoping to have a good chat with a decent human being, but so far you’ve been unsuccessful.

You’ve been called every word under the sun and you could feel your patience wearing thin.

Just as you were about to click off the godforsaken site, a boy appeared in the box under yours.

He was beautiful. His hair, blonde and messy, and his eyes a dark brown, almost appearing black in his lighting.

You both stared wide eyed at each other.

“Hi?” You whispered, you mouth going dry.

He smiled and you swore that you died on the spot.

“Hey.” He chuckled and you found yourself embarrassed when you compared his voice to dark chocolate. He continued and you could only stare, mesmerized by him. “I’m Vinnie.”

“The pooh?” If you could punch yourself, you would. Your eyes turned wide as you started to apologize but his laughter made you stop.

“Yeah, Vinnie the pooh,” He shook his head, his hair swaying from the movement. “that’s a good one,”

“I spell my name with a simple V.” He gave you a heart stopping smile, “what’s your name?” He asked with a glint in his eyes. He relaxed into his seat, waiting for you to speak.

“Y/n, I’m Y/n.” You struggled to speak, his eyes were intense even through the screen.

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you.” His smile was still very much present and you found yourself growing more relaxed, giving him a smile back.

Yeah, you liked this conversation.

“So how come you’re on here?” He found himself asking, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“Oh!” You looked sheepishly at him, “just wanted someone to talk to,” you began. “You’re the longest conversation I’ve had so far.”

He chuckled again, “well I’m honored, Y/n.”

god, how could someone be so fucking handsome and nice at the same time?

“It’s an honor to meet you too Vinnie,” your smile was still present but it faltered in shock when he raised his arm to run a hand through his hair. “So, how many penises have you seen so far?” He asked playfully, unaware of your gaze on his tattoos.

You snapped yourself out of it with a shy smile. “Too many to count, to be honest.” He shook his head with a sympathetic smile. “It’s been severed into my brain, I’m so glad my roommates haven’t walked in on me with a penis on my screen.” You laughed and nodded your head in agreement.

He sighed and stared straight into his camera. “So what do you do in your free time?” He genuinely wanted to know more.

“I work at a grocery store.” You couldn’t stop smiling. “And when I’m not working I’m at home, and you?”

He blushed, clearing his throat. “I do TikTok’s.” You raised your eyebrows and immediately grabbed your phone. “What’s your handle?”

“vhackerr.” He watched as your face was lit up by your screen, deep in focus as you searched his name.

“Holy shit! Dude, you have 15 million followers!” He laughed at your expression, a proud feeling blossoming in chest. “Yeah,” he bit his lip as your eyes focused on him again.

“Can I get your number?” He asked, feeling timid all of the sudden. You froze. “You don’t have to- I just really enjoy talking to you-“

“Yeah,” you interrupted, clearing you throat to get rid of the rasp. “You can have my number,”

The blonde boy threw his head backwards with a hoot, a grin plastered on his lips. “Thank you!” You laughed out loud and gave him your number.

“Is it cool if I call you instead?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie x you #vinnie x y/n #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker x reader #fluff #vinnie imagines

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calmcoldevening · 1 year

Note

Hey~ Sugarcube 💋

if you don't mind can you do a story about Charles Lee Ray , Thomas hewitt, Bubba Sawyer,and Michael myers with s/o who wears hot clothes and has big boobs.

s/o really likes sucking her breasts, when having sex s/o also really likes her breasts being played or massaged.

You are free to ignore my request, my dear. because I don't make you uncomfortable .

Your work is like a magic💋🥹❤️🌹

Slashers with s/o who has big boobs

TW: nsfw content, mention of murder

So, it is slashers x fem!reader, i hope you enjoy it :)

Charles Lee Ray

This man has always been particularly domineering and possessive. Especially if it is about you, his little doll. Did you specially wear such short tight clothes for your walk? And even when some bastards whistled after you, you looked at Charles with the most innocent angelic smile. What a devil.

That's why you were kneeling in front of a man in your living room right now. Charles was sitting on a chair with his trousers pulled down to his ankles and grinning, looking at you and resting his chin on his hand. You moved your mouth quickly, swallowing the man's cock all the way to the throat. Saliva was running down your face, tears were rolling out of your eyes from an unpleasant sensation. But the man encouraged you with his trademark words like "Good girl" or "Such an obedient doll". Charles gently stroked your temples.

When he finished, the man pulled the penis out of your mouth with a loud pop, releasing the seed on your chest. Or let out a deep groan.

"Smart girl. Come here"

Charles patted his thigh and you obediently climbed into his lap. With one hand he squeezed your ass, with the other he pushed the edge of your panties and inserted his cock, which had already begun to harden again, inside. The man grinned, hearing your cute moans. He began to slowly lower you onto the penis, squeezing your breasts with his free hand and massaging your nipple covered with his sperm.

"Oh, you take me so well, my pretty girl"

He whispered, kissing the clean skin of your chest. Charles loved your body so much. So beautiful and soft, as if you were a real work of art. He loved every inch of your delicate skin. He liked to squeeze your breasts and thighs, leaving hickeys or marks from teeth or nails on them, so that everyone could see that you belonged to him. Just thinking about you made his pants tighten.

"That's it, good girl. Come on, come to Daddy"

Charles stuck his hand down and started furiously rubbing your clitoris, biting your neck. Your eyes roll up when the orgasm hits you in waves.

"What a wonderful girl. Well done. Now you understand that in such clothes it is better to walk only in front of me, right, baby?"

Thomas Hewitt

You were a goddess. Literally the best thing that happened in his life. The fact that you were not afraid of his face, his activities and actions, gave him some confidence. You loved him. And he adored you for it.

But he never liked his uncles' actions towards you. Even if Hoyt told him to relax, because these are all simple jokes, Thomas could not let them get away with it and tried to convey to the brains of these men that they have no right to treat you like this, his treasure. Besides, Hoyt often suggested using you as bait for particularly careless tourists. Such victims were eventually dismembered on Thomas' desk in the most brutal way. It doesn't matter what kind of clothes you were wearing, if you like to wear it. You're just his darling girl.

So now you were sitting on your bed, leaning on the headboard, and Tommy was lying on your lap, sadly pursing his lips. You gently massaged his scalp and combed his tangled black hair with your fingers. Thomas purred slightly as he kissed the exposed part of your thigh.

He was always at peace with you. As if he didn't kill people. It was as if all his relatives were not in this house. As if he wasn't a monster. As if he was normal. Only with you could he feel good and joyful.

Finally he lifts his head and looks into your eyes. You're so beautiful... Just for him. You slowly unbutton the lock of his mask and pull off the coarse fabric. Thomas flinches reflexively when your soft palm rests on his brutal scars. He has not yet fully got used to the fact that you see him without a mask, but now he is sure that you will not judge him, that you will accept him in any way. Because you love him.

Thomas gently covers your lips with his, sliding his palm along your body and stopping at your rapidly heaving chest. He gently squeezes your flesh, and you whine hollowly into a kiss. Thomas knows how much you like it.

A man gently kisses your collarbones and leaves chaotic red flowers on your chest while you gently stroke his hair. Thomas bites your nipple lightly, which makes you squeal, and immediately kisses the bite site. He saw you responding to that victim's flirting, honey. You wanted to make him jealous. Thomas forcefully squeezes your other breast, massaging your pink nipple with my finger.

He undresses, helping you do the same, and puts you on his lap. His thick fingers gently enter your entrance, knocking loud moans out of you. Having finished with the preparation, Thomas gently lowers you onto his cock, allowing you to move on it yourself. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to be quiet. Tommy instantly grabs your palm, brings it to his face and kisses each of your fingers. Don't hold back. Thomas wants Charlie to hear it. He needs to understand who really makes you feel good. Tommy plays with your breasts as you slowly approach the edge. You arrive at the same time, Thomas gently kisses you on the neck, pressing your body to his.

He's so glad you're in his life. You're the best.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba often worries about you. He sees how tired you get from various chores around the house, and how often your body looks tense, given your shape. Therefore, he tries to help you at any opportunity that appears. This is a very cute boy.

You were standing in the kitchen making the cookies that all the Sawyers loved so much. A moment later, Bubba's soft hands fall on your waist, pulling you to him. A man whines softly in your ear worried sounds, and you smile, telling him that everything is fine. But Bubba always felt that his brothers were overloading you. Although he can't help but rejoice at your help to this house, because you stayed with them even after you found out what they were doing.

Bubba gently rubs his cheek against your neck and massages your soft sides, gradually moving to your shoulders. He knows that massage helps to relieve tension and fatigue. A man squeals when you take his palm and put it on your chest. The pale face under the mask blushes. He mumbles something to himself, averting an embarrassed look, but obeys you, starting to gently knead your soft flesh. After a couple of minutes, you already feel his clothed erection pressing against your ass.

It's good that Bubba's older brothers have gone to a neighboring city for some kind of competition. It would be awkward if they came in and saw you and Bubba in this position. The man whined and diligently sucked one of your breasts, gently massaging the other with his hand. You sighed languidly, closing your eyes and pulling Bubba by his curly brown hair closer to your body. God, he's always been so good at this. The man looked at you with puppy eyes, releasing your swollen nipple from his mouth with a vulgar squelching. This boy loves to make you feel good.

Descending lower, Bubba begins to actively work with your entrance, caressing the clitoris. He feels you coming to the edge and starts working faster. Making quiet sobs, you press his face harder against your body, trying to wait out the orgasm. When Bubba straightens up, you see how his face glistens with your juices, and his eyes are full of pleasure and affection. He likes to see you so much after your orgasm, you are so beautiful.

Michael Myers

Michael was always so annoyed by the way other people looked at you. You were so beautiful, like a perfect doll, different from the gray mass of other people. And people enjoyed this beauty. They gave you sidelong glances, allowed themselves to casually touch you and talk to you. But you were his. You belonged to him, the Haddenfield Boogeyman. Of course, all these stupid people will later be found dead and torn to pieces in the doorways. Of course, if the police can identify this bloody mess.

You were sitting in the living room watching some boring TV show. As soon as the back door opened, you jumped up joyfully and excitedly followed the sound. Michael was standing there, covered in blood still not completely dried on his suit and mask, and with a knife in his hand.

His weapon is instantly on the floor when Michael sees you completely: the same short skirt, slightly covering your hips and a tight top. Myers feels his own blood boiling furiously in his veins, throbbing in his head. A moment later, and the man rushes at you, pressing your body against the wall in one easy movement. He holds you by the hips with one hand, rolling the edge of the mask up with the other hand. You squeal painfully when sharp white teeth pierce your delicate skin between your shoulder and neck. Michael growls, now holding your ass with one hand and squeezing one of your breasts with the other. Your cute habit of going home without a bra.

Now your clothes will be irrevocably stained with red. It is unlikely that the blood is washed off from such bright colors. Although it was your favorite outfit. But you can only walk in it in front of him. Remember that.

After a couple of long minutes, you were already lying on the bed in your bedroom. Disheveled hair, a torn skirt on the side and a top lying on the floor. Your neck was covered with red marks just like your chest. You were having a hard time catching your breath.

After making a few finger movements inside you, Michael couldn't pull the stretch. He had to make sure that you would remember this moment for a long time. Without thinking twice, he lines up with your entrance, sliding his cock over your clitoris several times, and abruptly enters a good half. You hiss, grabbing Michael by the shoulders and scratching his back. The man hisses contentedly, breathing into your neck, and squeezes your right breast in his palm, massaging the swollen nipple. You're so needy. None of those bastards will ever see you like this.

Picking up the pace, Michael leaves chaotic red flowers on your chest and collarbones. A dark blue color appears around the bloody circles. Caressing your breasts, Michael continuously whines "Mine", trying to remember the sensations. When you are already approaching the edge, he starts frantically circling his fingers over your clitoris, causing stars in your eyes. When he finishes, Michael presses you to his hips, releasing his seed into you.

"Only mine"

#slashers x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #charles lee ray #charles lee ray x reader #bubba sawyer #bubba sawyer x reader

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vanteguccir · 2 months

Text

It's noted | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is part of the Sturniolo Triplets fandom and makes videos about them on TikTok. After years of creating content, one of her videos seems to catch the attention of none other than Chris.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, from anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

PS.: I used this tiktoker as an inspiration for the content that the reader creates on this.

PS. 2: I'm thinking of making a tag list for my Sturniolo Triplets x reader, so if you want to be included in it and be tagged on every Sturniolo x reader that I post, comment here please! 🩷

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was true that the Sturniolo Triplets fandom grew so much in such a short time thanks to the fans themselves, who play a big role in bringing the channel to other people through social media - mainly TikTok. It was also true that, at least 90% of this part of the fandom works with edits of different types of the boys; compilation of parts from a certain video or podcast, edits and even memes.

But there was a small portion that made videos talking about the boys, showing their faces and voices while explaining their content, work and even giving tips on how the triplets themselves could increase their audience or improve their brands.

And Y/N was part of this small portion, having been in the fandom since mid-2021 and not missing any videos of the triplets, she could talk about them for hours on end.

Her biggest hobby was making videos giving ideas for their channel and brands: some brands they could collab with, theme ideas for car videos, topics for podcasts, prints for hoodie sets and t-shirts - both for the triplets' brand and for Fresh Love -, different flavors and themes for Space Camp, and so on.

The girl applied all her love and knowledge to all her videos, editing the backgrounds and explaining her ideas with the smallest details, making them understandable. She had perfect lighting, audio, and set equipment for her work, which made the quality equally good as her content.

Her trademark was her strawberry frappuccino, which she was always drinking every time she turned on her phone camera. Fans joked that her obsession with the drink was like Chris's obsession with Pepsi.

And all that was exactly why fans loved her so much. Y/N had more than 400 thousand followers on her TikTok account and all her videos reached an average of 150 thousand likes, in addition to the many comments saying how smart she was for having those ideas, her kindness in sharing them with the public and even complementing her beauty.

The girl spent hours of her day reading each one of them and interacting with fans as if they were best friends, always being very kind. She laughed her ass off at the comments from people who madly tagged the boys, especially Chris, as it was a well-known fact that he was her favorite - she loved to make that very clear.

Some fans even went so far as to say that if Chris was ever ready to get romantically involved with someone again, they wanted it to be with Y/N. The girl read that type of comment with a huge smile on her face and red cheeks, feeling honored. Although she imagined that the boys would never even notice her, she allowed herself to travel through the world of delusion from time to time.

So it was an understandment to say that she was super surprised when, after waking up on a typical Saturday and picking up her phone for the first time in the day before even getting out of bed - a bad habit of hers -, she saw the notifications in triple the volume of its normal.

She felt dizzy with so much information, trying to find in the midst of so many comments and messages what was really happening.

Finally, after traveling between her TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter for long minutes, she finally found it.

Chris Sturniolo had commented on her last video.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

It was Friday, and the triplets had just returned home after finishing recording their new car video that would be posted in a few hours.

Chris was currently lying in his bed, the lights in his room dimmed, and the low noise coming from his phone filling the four walls.

The brunette was just getting ready to take a shower minutes ago, having opened his TikTok and scrolling through his For You for a few minutes, about to take off his clothes used in the filming, when a video of an unknown girl talking about himself caught his attention.

It was very normal to have videos of and about himself on his For You, after all, the hours over the last few years that he spent liking one video or another showed the algorithm that he liked this type of content. Edits and memes of him alone or with his brothers filled his app, and he spent enough time watching, laughing, liking, and, sometimes, reposting some of them.

But it wasn't normal for him to have a completely unknown person talking directly about him, with her face and voice exposed for the world while doing it. And what surprised him most was what she was talking about, that specific video being about different prints and colors that he could use in the next Fresh Love collection.

His blue eyes lingered too long on the girl's face, admiring her features, her sweet voice serving as a melody for his ears.

When Chris dragged his thumb from the right to the left of his screen, entering the girl's profile, he finally noticed her name.

"Y/N." His voice came out in a whisper, enjoying more than necessary how the name slipped off his tongue so easily.

His fingers wandered across the screen, going from one video to another, listening to the ideas carefully - even writing some down on his Notes app -, saving some in a separate folder and browsing the comments, only then realizing that practically all of them were from fans tagging him.

Laughter escaped his lips at some of the jokes the girl made every now and then, while fascination filled his eyes with the effort she put into each idea.

The sound of knocking against his bedroom door startled him, his body jumping as he turned sharply towards the source of it, Matt's head appearing between his door and the frame, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes traveled around the room briefly.

"You've been listening to this girl for so many hours that I thought she was here with you." Matt commented, opening the door wider and approaching Chris.

The youngest of the triplets rolled his eyes, suppressing the urge to lock his phone screen and keep Y/N all to himself, but she was well known in the fandom and her videos were about him and his brothers, the possibility of her content getting to them as quickly as it got to him was huge.

"It's a girl who appeared on my For You today. She makes videos of ideas for our channel and brands, can you believe it?" Chris looked at Matt as he showed his phone screen with Y/N's profile open. His eyes were wide with fascination, and his lips stretched into an enthusiastic smile.

Matt observed him for a few seconds, noticing his body language and the way he spoke about the girl, it was different from all the other times the boy commented about tiktokers or videos others made about them.

"Send me a video of her, I'll take a look later. Now go upstairs, I bought us something to eat."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Another Monday had arrived, and Y/N was looking for strength in her body to get out of bed and face another start of the week.

The thought that in a few hours, she would have a brand new Sturniolo Triplets podcast was what made her tackle her tasks.

Her eyes traveled to the time on her phone and to her notification bar every 10 minutes, as if she was expecting Nick to release the podcast earlier than usual - it was obvious that that wasn't going to happen.

After last Saturday, where she had woken up to a comment from none other than Christopher Sturniolo, her weekend was complete madness.

She spent hours staring at the little comment as her mind tried to process whether she was actually awake or still asleep and in a very good dream.

"loved the idea! it's noted ;)"

"it's noted"? What did that even mean? Did he actually write down her idea for future use? Should she be prepared to wake up some other day and see that he has launched a new collection with something she suggested in one of her videos?

And what made her go crazy the most was that Chris Sturniolo had seen her face, and not only that, he found her attractive enough and her idea creative enough to watch it until the end.

She spent almost the entire previous two days waiting for him to comment again, or even like one of her videos, but that didn't happen. Instead, Y/N received thousands of comments from fans going crazy with her about what happened. At least she had a good laugh with them.

Now, she was in her bedroom, the light from the movie playing on the TV was the only source of illumination. Y/N was lying in her bed, already in her pajamas and with her pre-bed cup of cappuccino on her lap, keeping her legs warm, her eyes on the television, but her mind somewhere else.

The sound of the YouTube notification came from her phone and Y/N had never moved so quickly, her hand taking the device out of her bedside table and unlocking the screen while muting the television, clicking on it with her thumb without even looking at the other notifications.

Her fingers worked on increasing the volume and screen brightness, setting it to the best resolution and getting comfortable on her bed, preparing to stay in that position for the next hour.

The podcast was already at minute 35, and Y/N felt her cheeks hurting from how much she was laughing at the topics brought up by the boys. Nick was especially funny that day, making Chris and Matt laugh at every moment.

In addition to the senseless fights that would arise between the three of them out of nowhere, which made Y/N roll her eyes playfully, already accustomed to their way with each other.

Until her big smile was replaced by an expression of a mixture of fright and surprise.

"Can we take a moment to talk about the intense crush Chris developed this weekend?" Nick interrupted Matt's laughter, taking a sip of his Doctor Pepper.

Chris turned abruptly to his brother, his eyes wide at the comment as he shook his head, almost begging through telepathy for him not to talk about that.

"It's true, Chris spent the weekend obsessing over a fan of ours who makes videos on TikTok with different ideas for our channel." Matt agreed, looking briefly at Nick while his hands moved the microphone support, pressing his lips together as he tried to suppress his laughter at Chris's reaction.

"Yeah, she is super pretty, and her ideas are very interesting. I think I only saw her profile once, but I listened to all her videos through Chris's phone." Nick continued, raising his right hand and directing his palm towards Chris, pretending to cover his figure with it and ignoring his desperate expression. "He literally spent the entire weekend watching her."

"Her name is Y/N. Search for her guys. We might even use one of her ideas on our next podcast." Matt added, his voice coming out low despite his mouth being almost glued to the microphone.

"You guys are horrible, I hate you." Despite the distance, the camera lens that focused on Chris's image captured his red cheeks as he tried to suppress a smile at the thought of the girl who took over his thoughts, rolling his eyes to his brothers.

"Now he will be silent for the next 10 minutes." Nick continued, amusement in his voice as he picked up his Space Camp watermelon lip balm, playing with the object in his hands.

"He's in love Nick, give him some credit." Matt mocked alongside the oldest triplet, a small smile on his face as his eyes watched his brother's reaction.

"Okay, next topic." Chris interrupted loudly, his voice cracking with embarrassment. He raised his arms and moved them from side to side exasperatedly, earning laughter from the other two, before Nick briefly passed his eyes on the document open on his laptop, starting the next topic.

"Oh my God." Y/N whispered, clicking once on the screen and dragging the small ball in the bottom bar to the left, going back a few minutes of the podcast and rewatching that specific part.

The girl repeated that action at least three more times, her brain still processing that Chris Sturniolo had been watching her TikToks all weekend - as if she were some kind of famous artist - and that, apparently, he was developing a mini crush on her as well.

Her heart was beating too fast to be normal as her cheeks burned, a red tinge taking over her skin. Goosebumps ran through her body as her fingers trembled slightly. Her jaw was already hurting from the time she held her mouth open, but no sound escaped from it.

A notification suddenly appearing at the top of the screen caught her eye, her right hand instantly flying to her mouth while her left hand lowered her phone, resting the device on her mattress.

Her eyes were now fixed on the wall in front of her bed, as her mind screamed at herself.

christopherturniolo sent you a direct message.

"hey!"

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

Also, again, I'm thinking of making a tag list for my Sturniolo Triplets x reader, so if you want to be included in it and be tagged on every Sturniolo x reader that I post, comment here please! 🩷

Asked tags: @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @p1xieswrld @lovrejoana

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mechaknight-98 · 1 month

Text

Instinctive insight (NSFW) FT Chaehyun

Authors note: I am unsure of a preface so here goes. Chaehyun buys a zoo where the narrator (you) work and hijnks ensue

PartII

Sexual chemistry is a weird thing. First, you're minding your business as a zookeeper when the new owner comes in and next thing you know you have her folded like a pretzel calling you daddy as she takes a hot load into her pussy then the next thing you know you're helping said new boss run the zoo better like the two of you didn't just fuck each other brains out. Oh shit… I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning

As I worked on next week’s schedule at the zoo, my coworker and friend, Zahir, strolled in with an air of excitement.

“Hey, Dino. Heard about the new boss?” he asked, brimming with curiosity.

“Yeah, I heard she's the new owner, taking over from Old McDonald,” I replied, my tone neutral.

“E I E I Oh,” Zahir quipped, a familiar inside joke that never failed to elicit a chuckle.

Curiosity piqued, I inquired, “What's the new boss like?”

“She's a Korean girl, a former idol,” Zahir revealed.

“Really? That's unexpected,” I remarked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Yeah, quite the change. She's due to arrive in an hour or two. You're probably the best bet to understand her. Could you stay to interpret?” Zahir requested, his eyes hopeful.

“Hmm, I'm not sure. I was planning to spend time with Tony today. Haven't had the chance since the promotion,” I explained, feeling torn.

“Fair enough. But what about Alucard?” Zahir countered.

“Alucard's always my priority at the start of each shift, given his popularity,” I assured him.

“True, he's practically your trademark here. By the way, did you get taller?” Zahir teased, noticing a change.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't,” I replied cryptically, leaving the question unanswered.

After successfully arranging for Zahir to cover Marie’s shift next Thursday, I completed the schedule. With that task done, I made my way to Tony’s enclosure, treading cautiously as always.

“Hey buddy, sorry I haven't been around. How are you?” I greeted him, though his silence conveyed more than words ever could.

His gaze, concealed beneath armored scales, seemed to communicate, “You always make sure to take care of Alucard.”

“Well, he may be popular, but I'm here now, aren't I?” I replied, preparing his food.

His head tilted inquisitively, silently questioning my sincerity.

“Yeah, really,” I affirmed.

Now, you might be wondering why I'm conversing with a Magnamalo. It all goes back to my early days at Old McDonald's Zoo. Each hire was entrusted with caring for an egg and a baby animal. I was given Tony, and over the years, we formed an unbreakable bond.

Currently, Tony is undergoing his transformation into a scorned Magnamalo in preparation for finding a mate. This meant heightened aggression and physical changes.

After spending a couple of hours with Tony, I sat on a nearby rock, feeling a sense of tranquility despite his imposing presence. As I finished up and secured the enclosure, a voice startled me.

“So, you're the illustrious Dinovaldo,” the voice said, catching me off guard. I turned to find a young Korean woman standing before me, likely the new boss. Surprisingly young, perhaps even younger than me, she exuded confidence beyond her years. Her round face framed by soft brown eyes and shoulder-length hair added to her allure.

Normally, I'm a sucker for a pretty face, but inexplicably, a surge of unfamiliar emotions washed over me, leading me to behave rudely. “I didn't expect you to be dressed so... casually,” I retorted, though her attire was perfectly appropriate.

She smirked, seemingly relishing the tension, and took a step closer. “For someone known for thoughtfulness and consideration, you're quite the jerk,” she remarked, her voice tinged with amusement.

I matched her proximity, a malicious smile playing on my lips as I felt a strange tension building between us. “Maybe if you weren't such an eyesore, it wouldn't be an issue,” I snapped, though secretly acknowledging her undeniable attractiveness.

“Well, what are you going to do about it, Daddy?” she challenged, our closeness heightening the tension until we both yielded to other, more primal feelings, breaking the touch barrier simultaneously. We found each other in a fiery kiss that consumed us both. My hands found themselves wrapped around her midriff and as my fingers sank into her soft flesh she moaned into the kiss. We broke it and all of the animosity we shared mutated into a virulent lust and desire. Wordlessly we go to a nearby employee shack used for helping the animals give birth and continue pursuing our bodies’ desires. I kiss her again and she melts into the kiss. I run my hands through her hair. The softness of her midriff pushes me to continue my exploration of her body. I slid my arms down to her ass, I grab her right leg and lift it as she wraps it around my waist

“How forward. I love it Daddy!” the woman says. I smile at her. Her eyes scream encouragement for me to continue so I do. I unbuckle my pants and pull my erect dick out.

“You are so soft I'm going to call you Marshmallow,” I say as I fiddle with her skirt before moving her panties to the side and plunging my sex into hers.

“Oh god yes Daddy,” Marshmallow says Euphoric. I was going to move until she said.

“No, give me a second to adjust,” Marshmallow says panting. While waiting I go back into kissing her which Marshmallow greedily accepts. She smells like a wildfire and it drives me wild. When the need for oxygen overrides our need to breed we break the kiss again. “Okay go,” Marshmallow says and I take off. I begin to pull out but her vagina sucks me in further. It's perfectly accommodating and welcoming. As barely get halfway out Marshmallow screams

“Ram it back in Daddy!” being the good daddy I was. I give her what she wants. She moans as her pussy sucks me in almost vacuum tight. Her nails dig into my neck as I thrust and a puddle of our combined juices lay beneath us as we continue. I look into her eyes and we see each other in a new light.

I cup her sizable bust as I whisper into her ear, “Do you want to cum?” Marshmallow nods

“Are you close?” I ask and am answered with another nod. I pick up the pace and begin to play with her clit. Marshmallow moans I feel her other leg wrap around me I smile into another kiss as the heat between us intensifies.

“Does daddy like my pussy?” Marshmallow said as her voice hitched

“Yes, I love the way it sucks me in as it never wants me to leave,” I say to a euphoric Marshmallow

“Well, it's true I don't want you to leave my pussy. I could duck this perfect cock all day and night.” Marshmallow moaned.

“God you're so hot,” I say to her breathless. “This soft body is perfect,” I say.

Marshmallow’s walls tighten and I realize she likes the body appreciation. So I try something to push her over the edge. I continue my thrusts in and out of Marshmallow as I begin praising her body like crazy.

“I love this tummy it's so soft and pillow. I just want to hug you and keep you close forever. These tits divine the perfect size to grope and squeeze.” I moan into her ear. I hear Marshmallow scream before she reaches her release. Her pussy becomes unbearable tight and forces mine

“Cum with me. Cum in me.” Marshmallow moans. Her words send me fully over the edge and I fall into the abyss with her. I shoot string after string of hot semen into her fertile pussy and she seemingly milks me for more and more as her orgasm intensifies. As our gazes lock, a strange sensation envelops me, stirring within like a tempest. We hold each other's stare, the air crackling with an inexplicable intensity. A wave of possessiveness washes over me, consuming my senses, and I can sense the same emotion reflected in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment. We are bonded and no one else would satisfy us.

After our copulation, We stand there, our intense gaze softened by the passage of time, yet the undercurrent of possessiveness only seems to strengthen. Eventually, we settle into new seats, and Marshmallow finds her way onto my lap.

“So, Marshmallow, huh?” she remarks playfully.

“Yeah, what about it?” I respond with equal playfulness.

“I like it, but my name is Chaehyun,” she reveals.

“Noted. I'll make an effort to use your real name in public,” I promise.

“Why hide your affection behind a nickname?” she teases.

“Not ashamed, just protecting our little secret,” I assure her, my fingers gently tracing through her hair.

“It's too late for secrecy now, Daddy,” she teases back.

“So, does this mean we're officially together?” I ask a hint of confusion in my tone.

“I think we are past that. I mean you did just cum what feels like a gallon in me.” Marshmallow teases

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I have no idea what came over me.” I apologize

“You're fine. If I didn't want it, I would've stopped you. Besides, it was reassuring because I felt a surge of emotions when meeting you too,” Marshmallow says, her tone adorable.

“Okay. So, what's next? Because I'm technically off the clock. Should we grab lunch?” I inquired, my mind swirling with conflicting feelings.

Marshmallow beams. “I'd love to,” she replies gratefully. I nod, but then the reality of the situation hits me.

I begin to scramble around the room. “Wait, let me tidy up first,” I insist, hastily organizing everything and dusting Marshmallow off. I can sense her smile as she watches me work. Once finished, I turn to her.

“Why does it look better than when we came in?” Marshmallow remarks with a smile, perching herself on a table, her feet dangling adorably.

“I know how it's supposed to look, and I know how to make it that way, no matter what,” I explain. Marshmallow nods before gracefully sliding off the table with my assistance.

“What a gentleman,” she teases.

“Well, I try,” I respond, eliciting another smile from Marshmallow.

We slip out of the zoo unnoticed and head to a nearby steakhouse. We get seated and order our drinks. Marshmallow’s hand slips into mine and fits perfectly as we continue to feel each other out.

“So, I heard you raised the Zoo’s only male Magnamalo from birth,” Marshmallow brings up as we settle in our seats and receive our drinks. I nod.

“Yeah, Tony and I have been together since I was 16 when Old McDonald hired me.”

“So, you've been at the zoo for 10 years,” Marshmallow concludes, smiling warmly at me. Our drinks arrive, and Marshmallow's face lights up even more after taking her first sip, mirroring my own enjoyment. As she sets her drink down, her expression shifts to one of intense focus.

“You know, Old McDonald…” Marshmallow begins.

“E I E I Oh,” I interject, prompting a chuckle from Marshmallow.

“What was that?” Marshmallow asks, amusement evident in her tone.

“Just a reflex from an old inside joke,” I reply, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Marshmallow squeezes my hand, her touch radiating tenderness and care, melting away my defenses. I can't help but smile goofily in response.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” Marshmallow teases, her eyes sparkling with affection. I playfully kiss her cheek, earning a happy smile in return. “The previous zoo owner relied on you for almost everything. Can I?” she continues, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Sure, but first, I have some requests,” I respond.

“Oh, and what might those be?” Marshmallow inquires.

“Well, I know you're not just a former K-pop idol but also a renowned megafauna researcher with an impressive list of achievements. While I may not have the same level of expertise, I've raised or helped raise almost all the animals in the zoo, especially our big-ticket boy, Alucard.”

“Another one of your naming conventions?” Marshmallow teases with a smirk. I nod before continuing.

“I need you to trust my expertise with them, and please refrain from belittling me or flaunting your credentials. Given how our bodies reacted today, I'm not sure what might happen if things become confrontational. I'm open to constructive discussion, but if it turns into a challenge, I'll stand my ground firmly,” I explain, adopting a serious tone to convey the gravity of my request.

Marshmallow's smile widens. “You understand!” she exclaims excitedly, leaving me momentarily puzzled.

“Understand what?” I inquire.

#kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfic #kep1er #kep1er smut #chaehyun smut #chaehyun #kep1er chaehyun

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miranyx1337 · 3 months

Text

Alastor x Reader

,,FEATHER ’’

Tags: fluff (for now ) enemies to lovers, kissing, being protective, cuddles, sleeping problems, flirting, possesive reader is an angel, fem reader

so enjoy this angel y/n x Alastor fanfiction.

The portal was just about to shout when I decided to pull my wrist away from my mother's gentle hand. The rush of my wings echoed through the abyss as I plummeted into the darkness. I closed my eyes. The desperate scream of my name immediately faded into nothingness as I came to hell just after lucifer daughter.

Dizziness enveloped me as I opened my eyes to a realm of strangers, their curious, disgusted, and unsettlingly smiling gazes fixed upon me. Only two faces seemed familiar, and a sinking realization of the dire situation I was in gripped my soul.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Alastor anticipated the return of two birds from heaven. Little did he expect that they would bring an unexpected guest. The thought of joking about a change in hotel profession crossed his mind. But the gravity of the moment silenced any trivial remarks.

As the clear blue eyes peered at him above shiny white hair, a sensation of swallowing saliva overcame him.

A true guest from heaven," he mused, his emotions were a complex blend of deep admiration and an unspoken desire to shatter this celestial beauty. The finest trophy he could ever possess.

He extended his hand towards the luminous figure

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Y/N POV

I ignored a demonic hand reaching out to me. With one swift movement of my wings, I found myself at the other end of the room. As I stood on my feet and the momentary adrenaline faded, sharp pain get through me. I landed on my knees, slightly dazed.

"My wing is broken."

Since childhood, I couldn't help but admire my six wings, always well-groomed and shining, my trademark. Now, the upper ones drooped, broken in half. Snowy-white feathers, wincing in pain as more of them fell off.

I won't lick my wounds quickly, which means I won't return home anytime soon.

The exiled daughter ran up to me, and I leaned on her shoulder. She and the white-haired one were probably the only ones I could trust.

"Listen, I don't know if they will come for me, but you need to know something."

I directed my gaze at the nearby onlookers, demons staring at me as if I were a freak, and creature of sin. Red, smiling eyes pierced through me, and I couldn't look away. The demon looked at his outstretched hand, then withdrew it behind him, seemingly surprised. Smiling nonchalantly, he spoke, "Don't worry. You can trust everyone in this room."

"No. Please, let's go to another room." I looked desperately at her, squeezing the forearm with my pale hands.

"Alright, then," she nodded, gripping my arm tighter. "And you guys, prepare a bandage, something to drink, and... call my father."

As soon as the door closed behind us, I began searching the room when I felt clawed fingers on my shoulders, instantly turning me around.

"Can you trust me, please?"

"Fine."

"Okay, FIRST, why did you do that? Did they make you spy?"

"Listen, Charlie," I said, now I'm the one holding her shoulders. "You're right. There is an evidence that souls can be redeemed."

Disbelief was painted at her angelic-demonic face. She analysed my words and sincerity. "Adam. He wasn't originally in heaven. I don't know how he got a pass, but I have undeniable evidence that he originally ended up here."

Suddenly, everything made sense, and the girl connected the dots. Still, with wide eyes, she stared at me.

"So, that's why," she stuttered.

"Yes, it would be a disaster if it turned out the first redeemed soul didn't deserve it. He'll try to hide the truth in every way, even if it means bringing hell down …. and killing me.

Tears welled up in my eyes. How did I get involved in this? I should never have ended up here, let alone conspiring against heaven. I was no longer safe there.

Tiny arms with the smell of sulfur and angelic musk embraced me. Exhausted, I let tears flow down my cheeks. It's a shame I didn't notice the nosy egg tucked under the bed and the radio demon standing right behind the door holding a sinful kiss on a small shiny feather

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #fanfic #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x you #alastor radio demon #alastor imagine

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billthedrake · 2 months

Text

SUGAR DADDY (PART ONE)

I was cooling down from my run, and I was paying more attention to the traffic light to cross. I almost didn't see them.

But the man saw me, a look of embarrassment sweeping his face before the familiar friendly tone won out.

"Luke?" he said.

"Mr. Keenan," I replied automatically, as if the recognition was coming out of my mouth before it hit my brain. Mr. Keenan was my buddy Rich's dad, a successful corporate lawyer or something. I know Rich had issues with his father, made even worse by his parent's divorce, but Mr. K was always beyond nice to me. And truth be told, I always found him incredibly attractive. Tall, handsome, salt and pepper coming in on the temples, kind of like a TV dad. Even now he was in a nice-cut navy suit, dress shirt and no tie.

His blue eyes were taking me in. It had been over three years since I'd last seen the man, since high school graduation, and I'm sure I looked different now. "I almost forgot you went to school here," he said. "Georgetown?" he prompted.

"Yes, sir. They haven't kicked me out yet," I smiled in my self-deprecating way.

It was then that I noticed the woman standing next to him. She couldn't have been any older than me. She was pretty, real pretty, with that sorority girl look. Straight blond hair and big tits for a girl with her trim frame. At least they showed off well in that spaghetti strap cocktail dress she had on. Her high heels didn't get her close to Mr. K's 6'3" height but they added a couple of inches.

I now had a pretty good idea why Rich's parents got divorced.

The man's date was good at hiding her annoyance at my presence but not good enough that I couldn't see that she wanted to get on to where they were going. Part of me couldn't blame her. It was fall, the evening was cool, and she was underdressed for it.

Mike Keenan realized where I was looking and that embarrassed look came back on his face. "Luke, this is Kimberly..." he turned to his girlfriend or date or whatever. "Luke's from back home," he explained. Almost with an emphasis of meaning.

Turning back to me. "We should go, buddy... but it's great running into you, Luke."

"You, too, Mr. Keenan," I said. It was only then that I was self conscious about standing on a busy Georgetown sidewalk in my sweat-drenched running clothes, the cool getting to me now that the exercise was wearing off.

He flashed his trademark smile, like he always did when I came over. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, deftly extracting a business card. "I'm in DC a few nights a week these days. Reach out and we'll catch up, OK?"

"Sure thing, Mr. K," I said, taking the card in my fingers.

Then I watched as my friend's dad and his college-aged girlfriend went walking on to their date spot.

****

"I was gonna ask if you can keep things under wraps about Kimberly," Mr. Keenan said as we waited for our burger at a nice but not overly fancy bistro that DC seemed to have a ton of. I'd met Mr. K closer to his hotel, just two nights after running into him.

"Oh yeah, sure," I said. If the man had asked me to give an alibi to the police for something I probably would have. I mean, Mike Keenan always was great to me, encouraging me in my baseball playing and even helping me out with college admissions stuff, since my folks were more blue collar. His dating life was really none of my business, but I felt like it was conversation worthy. "How long have you two been dating?"

He squirmed in his seat and sighed. "A while... not too long..." he said then gave me a long hard look. "Listen, Luke, you can keep this between us, right?"

The blue eyes and handsome jawline and perfect teeth were gonna make me crush out a little on the man, like I did back in high school. "Absolutely," I replied. Earnest as hell.

He smiled. He could read my sincerity, and I think it amused him. He leaned back and had a soft leer on his face, a side of him I'd never seen. "She's not my girlfriend," he explained. "I met her on one of those sugar daddy sites."

I may have been a dumb jock, but I figured out what he meant pretty quick. "You mean she's a hooker?" I asked. I had to laugh, and Mr. K laughed back.

"No, well, not exactly," he replied. "But there's a little of that, even if we both pretend that's not what's going on." His eyes searched out mine, and I knew he was trying to read if I was freaked out or judgmental. I wasn't, just surprised.

I tried to pass off my shock with a joke. "She expensive?" I said.

He grinned, with a I-can't-believe-you-asked-that look. But he replied anyway. "Very. But I can afford it."

Something about his tone and lecherous nature got me hard. Not chubbed, but full on erect in my jeans.

The man mistook my horniness for a different reaction. "Sorry Luke," he said. "I shouldn't have said that... only you asked."

"No, it's good," I assured him. "Just didn't expect it, is all."

"Fair," he said. He sighed again. "Seriously, Luke, not a fucking word to Rich. Or anyone. I mean it."

"I won't, Mr. K, promise," I assured him. He probably didn't want to talk about it anymore, but I was very curious. "So... how's it work exactly?"

"How's what work?"

"The sugar daddy thing."

He seemed more businesslike. Maybe he enjoyed being able to confide, or maybe he just was humoring me. "I pay for Kimberly's apartment and of course for dates," he explained. "There are gifts, too, but she doesn't make me jump through hoops like some of the others."

I was letting it sink in that this one wasn't Mr. K's first. I knew the guy was loaded, but that kind of money was wild to me.

"Damn, I should get a sugar daddy," I joked.

Without missing a beat, Mr. Keenan shrugged his shoulders and said, "You could. If that's what you wanted."

I blushed. I was still pretty closeted though Rich Keenan knew. Maybe Mike Keenan knew too.

The man seemed to enjoy catching me off guard. "A colleague of mine goes for high-class call boys, but I've been trying to convince him to go for something more legit." This was definitely a new side to Mike Keenan than I'd seen.

He paused. "Sorry, Luke. I'm not really suggesting... You know that, right?" The old Mr. K was back.

"Yeah, Mr. Keenan," I said. I wasn't totally naive, but this evening had already made me feel more green than I wanted.

He held up his empty rocks glass in a gesture for the bartender to bring another. He then turned to me. "You have any special men in your life?"

So Mr. K did know.

I shook my head. "I've hit the apps some," I said with candor. "But no one special."

He patted me on my shoulder, like he used to back when I'd come over to visit Rich. Like a buddy or a dad. "Well, you've grown into a fine young man, Luke Bowman. I'm sure that someone special will come soon... maybe when you're not expecting it."

OK, I was more than a little crushed out.

***

Something about seeing Mr. Keenan was a spark in my life that I needed. I'd spent too much of my college years scared. Scared of getting out there, of meeting men. I liked men who were older. Coach types, though that was out of bounds and not realistic. But I changed the age range on my app profile and decided I was going to be open to engaging with men who turned me on there.

It was hit or miss. I heard from some real obnoxious guys. I went on some dates with a really fucking hot doctor who was great sex but then basically ghosted me. I had a couple of hookups that were good for what they were.

I wasn't being a man-whore exactly, but I enjoyed making up for lost time a little.

Strangely Mr. K became my confidante. I don't know why I thought the man would be homophobic, hell maybe deep down he was, but we each shared a secret with the other. And once he was back in DC for business that spring, I met him every other Wednesday for burgers and beer, depending on my game schedule. I got the increasing feeling that he valued his time with me, since he and Rich didn't get along well these days. The man carried a lot of guilt for his broken marriage, but he'd be the first to admit that he'd probably do the same thing all over again.

"Buddy, college girls are the best," he leered one Spring night as we finished our meal. Mr. K let his hair down a LOT with me these days. "I know they don't do anything for ya, Luke, but Jesus, fuck..."

I laughed. I knew Mike Keenan was a grade-A horndog and probably not a good man in that way, but I enjoyed seeing his naughty side.

"You ever think about dating one for real, Mr. K?" I asked. For most of our meetings, it had been mostly my buddy's dad asking me about my life, but it was just now getting to the point where I felt like I could ask personal questions like this.

He shook his head. "It wouldn't work. Besides, I wouldn't do that to Rich." It was a strangely profound admission.

I gulped. Yeah, I could see it from my buddy's perspective, having a stepmother his age, or younger even.

"That's cool, Mr. Keenan. But you gotta live your life, too," I said.

That caught the man off guard. He looked at me then smiled. He reached over and ruffled my hair. "You really think that, dont ya?" he asked.

I nodded, embarrassed.

He grinned. "Don't worry, kiddo. I'm enjoying my middle age years. A little too much."

"With Kimberly?" I prompted. He hadn't mentioned her in a while.

"I called off that arrangement," he said bluntly. "She wanted more."

"A ring?" I laughed. I didn't get straight people, not really, but at the same time they were my entire world.

That leer returned to the man. "No. More money. I'm taking a break for now."

"How long will that last?" I teased.

"Dunno. A month. Maybe two. Till I get horny again."

"I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have to wait that long to get laid, Mr. K."

It was meant as a playful comment, at least in my head. But the second it came out I realized I'd said too much. That Mr. Keenan could read everything in my face, everything I'd kept hidden. How attracted I was to him, how crushed out I was on him, how jealous I was of Kimberly or whatever sorority chick he was banging.

The look on the man's face could now see it all.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I started getting a panic attack. I stood up from the bar stool. "I should go," I said.

A hand reached out and gripped my forearm. Mr. K's grip was surprisingly strong. "Luke. It's OK."

Somehow, his understanding made it worse. I shook my head and broke free. "Sorry," I muttered. Then made a beeline for the door.

I felt dumb and intensely vulnerable as I walked to the bus stop. I'd messed up this friendship thing I had with Mike Keenan, but maybe it was fucked up that I was hanging out with my friend's dad like this in the first place. No maybe about it: it was majorly fucked up.

I was a block away from the stop when I got a text.

"Can I convince you to come back, Luke?" the man wrote. "I get it buddy."

I knew the smart thing would be to keep walking. To send a polite no thanks reply. Or just ignore the text. Instead I typed. "Yes Mr. K." And I walked back to the restaurant.

Mike Keenan was standing outside, looking handsome as fuck in his expensive suit. He had a worried look on his face, and I knew immediately he'd dashed out after me but didn't know which way I went.

His face brightened when he saw me. "We don't have to stay here," he said. "I settled up."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry..." I started to apologize, but he stopped me.

"You were honest," he said directly, blunt but still friendly. "Besides, what man doesn't like to hear he's attractive?"

I gave a wan smile and hunched my shoulders in a shrug. "A lot of straight men, I imagine."

I couldn't tell if Mike Keenan was just humoring me. He had a look of sympathy on his face for sure as he reached out and patted my arm. "How bout this? No labels between us, Luke?"

I didn't get what he was saying exactly, but I knew it was meant to reassure me. I nodded.

"Feel like coming to my hotel?" he asked. "We can just talk."

"Yeah." I was feeling a ton of emotions coursing through me. But I wanted more Mr. K time. "Sounds nice."

That seemed to relax him and put him in a good mood as we walked the few blocks to the nice, business-class residence hotel where he was staying. I couldn't help but sneak looks over his way. He just looked incredible in his suit, not a trim cut one like younger guys sometimes wore but it still flattered his build and height. In my mind, the suit made him look like one of those DC power players and in some messed up way that turned me on.

We weren't too chatty as he led me up to his room. It was fancy to my eyes but had that empty aura that hotel rooms do, even if Mr. K's luggage and belongings were around.

I was looking around the place when the man stepped up right behind me and wrapped his arms around my midsection. I smelled his cologne and felt his kisses along my neck. I guess we were going to do more than just talk.

"Oh, God, Mr. K," I hissed. This probably a record time for how fast I could throw hard. That boner was nearly instant.

"You can call me Mike," he said.

"OK," I said dumbly.

His hands traveled up and down my T-shirt. I was primed to be turned on by this man, but he was going to put me in heat.

"You OK with this, buddy?"

"You have no idea, Mist.. Mike" I replied.

My slip up got a chuckle from him. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of my shirt and the touch of his hand against my belly felt electric. "You have an amazing body, Luke."

"You too, sir," I replied.

He kissed some more along my neck and his voice got deeper, hoarser. "Do you suck cock, Luke Bowman?"

The grunt from the man was an indication I'd said the right thing. "I don't know that I'm good for all the other stuff," he said, "but I'd REALLY love to feel your mouth on me, buddy."

I knew what he meant. The man wasn't going to reciprocate, and I'd have to be fine with that. I was. "I don't need anything in return, Mike," I said. "I want to suck you."

He had that huge horndog grin on his face when I finally turned to face him. We were matched in height but he felt like my opposite in so many ways. Older, successful in his career, straight, though I was getting the fuller meaning of his "no labels" comment.

Especially as his face inched in and his lips met mine. I was kissing Rich Keenan's dad and the forbidden nature of that just added to my thrill. I took a second to feel up his sides, under the suit coat. Mr. K didn't object, he just went deeper with the kiss. Mike Keenan was a great kisser.

"You're a very handsome young man," Mr. K finally said as he pulled back.

"God, Mike," I grunted. This was every JO fantasy I'd had coming to life.

With that naughty look on his face, he reached down and started unzipping. I didn't even look down, not yet, but I could tell from his shoulder motion that he was hauling out his cock.

"Please, buddy," he hissed.

"Here?" I asked dumbly. In my hookups before BJs had been naked and on a bed.

"Here," he growled. This was that other side of Mr. K, the kind who hired sugar babies to get his needs taken care of.

I squatted down. I was a catcher for the Hoyas baseball team, so at least I had this motion down, I thought to myself.

Mike Keenan's cock was gorgeous. Big and meaty and cut but not overly long. It jerked and pulsed as he looked down on me.

"You done this before, right?" he asked. That concerned paternal voice coming out.

I nodded. "Some," I replied. "I wish I had more practice." Then with an honesty I probably shouldn't have had, I added, "I want this to be good for you, Mike."

He chucked and moved his hand to run through my hair. It was strangely affectionate. "You'll do great, buddy."

That was all the encouragement I needed. Leaning in, I could smell the mild, natural musk of a man's crotch, which was matched by Mr. K's saltiness as I began licking him. I gripped the base of his prick to steady it for my sucking, but I maybe didn't even need to do that. Mike was rock hard.

"Yes..." he hissed as I went down on him. I was still pretty green at sucking cock, but I was probably better than Kimberly or whatever sugar baby he'd lined up in the past. Or even the former Mrs. Keenan, I thought crudely.

That knowledge had me going for it. I swallowed four inches of the man in one go, held just a second to let my throat get used to it. Then I started going up and down. It took a second for me to get my rhythm and another for me to get the suction. But I knew I did by the urgency of the man's fingers in my hair, not exactly pushing me down on his crotch but aiding and guiding me in my bobbing motion. He was probably thinking of some chick while I blew him, but I was OK with that.

Only his next words broke me of that idea. "Luke, buddy... you're getting me there," he hissed. Mr. K was very present in this blowjob. I paused a second and looked up at him, and could see he was looking down at me.

I wanted to get him off. So I looked back forward and went for it. The best I could deliver. I hoped it was enough.

The fingers grew tighter. "Gonna cum... Don't pull off," Mike growled. "Please."

At that moment I felt bad for straight men. Even if I should have felt bad that Mr. K wasn't gonna suck me. I just felt any woman was stupid not to want to swallow Mike Keenan's cum.

"UNNFH!" came the sound of his release as he flooded my mouth and throat with his salty-sweet cum. Maybe Mike was backed up, but he was a heavy shooter all right. I accepted it all, swallowing it in waves as quickly as he fed it to me. I think my sucking sensation only added to his orgasm. He finally pulled out, prick wet and still hard.

"God fucking damn, buddy, that was great," he said with a satisfied smile. Then as he caught his breath and I stood up, he added, "Can I jerk you off or anything?"

That sounded great. "You got any lube?"

He nodded and walked over to the bathroom to root around his toiletries bag. He stepped back in, his prick softer but still sticking out. With a grin, he tossed me travel container of lube. "Don't be shy," he said.

I was already undoing my shorts, which fell to the floor. Then I peeled down my underwear, letting Mike see my hardon. It was a trip for me, being mostly naked in front of him. Maybe he wasn't gonna be fully gay for me, but he was open to seeing my dick as I squirted the liquid on my stalk and start stroking.

With a grin he stepped up to me, a little to the side, placing his hand on my belly and working up beneath my shirt as he met me for a kiss.

That's all it took. I didn't come instantly but instantly I began that climb to orgasm. Mr. Keenan's kiss and touch was the extra stimulation to get me there.

I moaned into his mouth as I shot my cum, shooting out onto the hotel carpet.

He broke the kiss when I was done and patted my chest. "You needed that, buddy," he said with satisfaction.

"I did," I nodded. "Thanks."

Things felt a little awkward now. I'd crossed some major lines with this guy that evening, and now that I'd gotten off I felt majorly self conscious about it.

"You OK, Luke?" he asked as we tucked back in.

"I'm OK, Mr. Keenan."

"You can NEVER tell Rich about what just happened," he said.

"You know I'm gonna keep everything private," I said. "You can trust me."

He nodded. "Why don't you get cleaned up. Feel like a drink? I have some scotch here or you can raid the mini bar."

I nodded. "I don't know anything about scotch, but you can teach me."

He chuckled. "All right."

It felt nice to just talk. Mr. K let me open up, about men and being gay and what I really wanted from dating and sex. The man talked about his very limited experience with guys when he was a teen.

"I should have figured men would be better at giving head," he said with a playful leer. "That was incredible, Luke. For real."

"I'm glad," I said. Maybe this wasn't a healthy hookup, but it had felt incredibly satisfying for me, a dream come true.

"You're going to make some dude VERY happy," he said with a smile.

"I hope so," I said with a defensive chuckle. "I hope he makes me happy too."

Mr. Keenan got what I meant. "Yeah, you deserve that," he said a little chastised. He polished off the last of his liquor in the rocks glass. "Listen, it's been a long day."

"Yeah, I'll head off," I said, drinking the rest of my scotch and standing up.

Mr. K pulled his walled out and fished out a couple of twenties. "Here you go... you're not taking the bus back. Especially at this hour."

I tried not to take it. "It's Ok, Mike," I said.

He shook his head. "Just get a fucking Uber, Luke. I insist."

"OK," I said, capitulating. The man could be bossy, and I didn't know whether I liked that or not.

He was quieter now, as he led me to the door but he said before I stepped out. "I'm gonna sleep like a baby tonight, buddy. Thanks."

"You too, sir."

#drakestories

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etherealising · 2 months

Text

chapter twelve | a slow burn for me

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣ |

pairing(s): carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: a peek into the beginning of an awkwardly domestic night between you and carmy.

warning(s): honestly none for this chapter, what a surprise.

wc: 6.4k (of filler someone get this girl an editor)

It was late. If the lack of light streaming through your office windows wasn’t enough of an indicator of the hour, the time on the small analog clock gifted to you by Nat and Pete was enough to force you to call it quits for the night. You did a quick check of the document staring back at you on your computer to make sure not only was it saved to the software you’d chosen to use, but also to the backup hard drive you’d learned to use over time.

The building was quiet as you tidied up your desk and powered down your appliances, your coworkers having cleared out hours ago. You could feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones, working overtime wasn’t on your agenda this morning but considering the two personal days you took after your emotionally demanding conversation with Carmy, it was no surprise the extra time was needed to catch up on all the work you missed out on. The hour wasn’t horrendous per se but watching the clock on your desk tick past 9:30 was all the excuse you needed to begin your journey home.

Your decision to return to the Tribune wasn’t as hard as you expected it to be. You were finally getting your life back on track, you were in a city you loved surrounded by the people you loved and cared about. If you needed to spend the next year avoiding and appearing indifferent to your boss, so be it you would figure things out as the days passed by. And maybe it wasn’t your most logical decision but you were sure within a year or two you might find another position, for now, though you just wanted to go home.

An exhausted sigh escaped into the dimly lit office as you began to gather your belongings of the day, eyes catching onto the pristine manila envelope that you remembered plucking out of your mailbox before driving to work. Ignoring the envelope you shrugged on your jacket before bending to grab your bag from one of your desk drawers quickly slipping your laptop and the unassuming envelope inside before double checking everything was exactly how you always left it.

The elevator ride to the ground floor was surprisingly relaxing considering how annoying the music playing through the speakers was. Exiting the metal box as it stopped you gave a cordial goodbye to the night guard on duty before exiting the building and speed walking to your car before the cool air could assault you any longer.

You were quick to start the car, allowing it to warm up as you turned on the heater and placed your hand in front of the air vents. The artificial warmth wafted through your car as you carefully plucked your phone out of your bag casually eyeing the envelope that you’d rather deliver sooner than later. A few minutes ticked by as you thought about the best course of action, scrolling through your contacts you quickly found Nat’s and pressed the call button hoping she’d be able to help you.

The phone didn’t ring for long before you heard Nat’s voice ring through. Your hopes that she wouldn’t answer didn’t have a foot to stand on knowing she always made time to answer your calls whether she was busy or not.

“Nat, hey I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You could hear Pete’s voice in the background as Natalie sounded like she was maneuvering around.

“Baby, no you’re fine. Is everything okay? It's pretty late.” A small smile graced your lips at the slightly worrying tone in Nat’s voice.

“Yeah I’m fine, I uh...I was just hoping I could stop by real quick. I got the revised trademark paperwork in the mail today and was hoping to drop it off.”

The line was quiet for a moment as you awaited the woman’s response, part of you was sure the call had dropped but you could still hear her little noises through the phone.

“Nat? You still there?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to drop it off with Carmen? He doesn’t live too far from where you are now.” You frowned knowing you hadn’t mentioned where you were during the conversation.

“I never said where I was Nat.”

“Oh, I know my love Pete checked your location.” Of course, you were on speaker, not that it annoyed you, whatever you divulged in this conversation with Natalie she’d be sure to gossip about it with Pete regardless if he could hear the conversation or not.

“Isn’t that like an abuse of trust? I shared my location for emergencies Nat.”

“Isn’t this an emergency? You’ve been avoiding Carmy since the night of my baby shower and as much as I love my brother Baby, I am sick of his moping.” You bit your lip suddenly realizing the truth behind Nat’s words, it hadn’t been your intention to avoid him but then you remembered the unanswered texts and the missed calls you had plenty of time to return but for some reason chose not to.

“Is he even home, feels a bit early doesn't it?”

“I’m sending you his address Baby. And I love you, but I am tired of this cycle between the two of you and trust me I know Carmy has his faults, I know the part he’s played in this relationship between you two. But aren’t you now doing exactly what you’ve been crucifying him for?” You could feel the indignation rising in your chest, the need to defend yourself coming in hot.

“I’m not excusing his actions Baby, but the two of you are adults and the fact that Carmy’s pulled his head out of his ass and is finally trying is a big step in whatever the hell is going on between you two.”

The sting of tears behind your eyes was the last thing you wanted to deal with right now. You hated when Natalie was right but you appreciated her perspective and the way she appeared unbiased. You took a deep breath trying to keep the tears at bay not wanting to cry once you began driving.

“I’m scared Nat.” It was quiet as she let you gather your thoughts. “Things have just been fucked up between us for so long that I’m not sure how to navigate a healthy relationship with him. And I…god I kind of hoped him finding out about everything would make him hate me and want nothing to do with me. But then he just accepted it and forgave me and now he’s checking in on me daily and sending me little anecdotes about his day and I’ve just been ignoring him hoping he’d finally just give up because Nat I just…I don’t know everything just feels too good to be true you know?”

You took a minute to even your breathing surprised by what you just admitted to Natalie, unaware that what you’d been feeling over the past few days could be put into words. You reached over to turn off your car, sure you wouldn’t be leaving this spot anytime soon, before laying your head against the headrest and allowing your eyes to flutter closed.

“Baby, you’re never going to be healthy if you continue self-sabotaging.” Nat gave you a minute before continuing. “I appreciate your candor but I don’t think I’m the person who needs to hear these things. Given Carm a chance, I know he’s a bit inexperienced in the relationship department but you both deserve a shot at whatever this dumpster fire of a relationship is.”

You let out a quiet laugh thanking Nat for her oh so kind words of wisdom. You checked the time on your phone as Natalie hung up, time wouldn’t stop just because you wanted it to. Your eyes were drawn to the incoming message from Natalie, a pin with Carmy’s address followed by a quick good luck text. You gave a tired smile at the combination of emojis before clicking on the pin and watching it load in the maps app, an easy 15-minute drive to his apartment complex.

Throwing the phone into the seat next to you, you quickly started the car forcing yourself to begin the journey before you had any more time to talk yourself out of showing up on Carmen’s doorstep unannounced.

This whole situation felt like deja vu. Here you were at Carmy’s doorstep uninvited once again, trying to work up the courage to just even knock on his door. A part of you hoped he wasn’t home to spare yourself from the apology you knew he deserved, but you also just wanted to clear things up between the two of you, finally get things out in the open, and hope the two of you could move forward in whatever way you both agreed upon.

You took one last deep breath before raising your hand to finally knock, cringing a bit at how hard the knocks must have come across. You waited a few seconds with no answer deciding to knock again, you were already here so all you could do was try.

Another series of knocks went unanswered, you couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped out of you at the parallels between this moment and your visit to Carmy’s New York apartment a year ago. You checked the time on your watch, deciding to call it a night and send Carmy a text when you returned home, hoping the two of you would be able to connect at a more decent time. Spinning around to return to your car you jumped on the spot, your hand moving to clutch the spot over your heart as it raced.

“Fuck Carmen! Why are you sneaking around?” You did your best to calm your breathing, surprised to find Carmy’s figure in front of you along with the fact that you hadn’t even heard his approach in the first place.

“I uh…I wasn’t.” He looked surprised to see you outside his door, slight confusion drifting through him as he tried to recall ever giving you his address.

The tension in the hallway leading to Carmy’s apartment was palpable, neither of you saying a word in hopes that the other would begin the conversation. An awkward smile curled your lips as Carmy’s eyes darted everywhere but your eyes. If anyone walked in on this scene of the two of you they’d be confused if you told them you’d known the man in front of you your whole life.

“I have-,”

“Would yo-,”

Awkward laughs left the both of you, your hand gesturing for Carmy to go first. He cleared his throat adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, one hand digging into his pocket as he pulled out what could only be his keys.

“Would you uh, like to come in?” Carmy jingled the keys slightly to clarify as if his question wasn’t obvious enough.

You nodded, sending him a genuine smile, “Yes please if that’s okay with you.”

Carmy nodded clearing his throat as he shuffled past you, fingertips slightly grazing your waist in a move you both knew to be unnecessary but neither of you cared to comment on. You waited as he unlocked the door cautiously following behind him as he held the door open for you. A small nod of thanks was sent his way as you walked past eyes surveying what you could see of his apartment thus far.

Although the layout was different from his lodgings in New York, you got the same feeling you had when you entered that apartment a year ago. There was minuscule decoration hardly any to be exact but his presence could be felt as soon as you walked through the door a warmth that was incandescently Carmy radiated around you.

You felt heat at the small of your back as Carmy rounded on you walking past the board in the middle of his living room as he made his way towards the kitchen.

“Are you hungry? Have you eaten yet?” You watched as he rummaged through his fridge in search of something as you continued to look around his abode.

“Actually I-,” Carmy cut you off with a quiet curse under his breath, his figure quickly moving towards you before stopping in front of you. Confusion washed over your features as he carefully removed your purse out of your hands gently setting it on his coffee table and returning to you. You watched as he reached for your arm, hands tugging the sleeve of your jacket off before walking around you and removing it fully, the domesticity of the moment sent a shiver up your spine.

“I uh..I’m out of groceries but I’ll run and go get us some take out yeah?” He still wasn’t looking at you as he spoke whatever was going on in his mind keeping him occupied.

“Carmen I-,” You stopped upon seeing his sporadic unfocused gaze.

“Stay please?” Carmy’s eyes finally met yours after the constant minutes without doing so. The soft glint of hope you found there went straight to your chest as you gave a forced smile nodding your head in acquiesce.

The corner of Carmy’s lips ticked up, eyes quickly darting across your face before moving towards the door removing his wallet from his bag and stopping by the door, you slowly followed behind so you could lock up for him.

“Anything in particular?” He asked, shoving his hands into his pocket as he turned to look at you.

You shook your head, nothing coming to your mind as you stared at him, “Surprise me?”

He stood there for a moment before rapidly nodding his head, turning to leave, stopping in the now open doorway, “Call me if you want anything specific, yeah?”

A genuine smile was sent his way at just how considerate he was, you moved to close the door, immediately stopping as his hands reached out surprising you as they found purchase on your waist. There was no time for you to question his motives as he quickly leaned in, chapped lips softly ghosting across your cheek before he quickly pulled away.

“I’ll be home soon, lock up okay?”

You stood there dumbfounded unsure of what to say or do or if you should say anything for that matter. The further Carmy got from the door the longer you stood there trying to wrap your head around how that man's mind worked. And even after he’d been gone awhile you tried to rationalize that the feel of his lips caressing your cheek meant nothing.

Carmy sat at the small table waiting for the order as he stared down at his phone. On the outside, he appeared calm like someone just stopping for a late-night bite to eat, and while the latter part was true the idea that he was anywhere near calm couldn’t be further from the truth.

At every stop he made he was itching to pick up the phone and call you, to apologize for the random kiss, unsure himself what even drove him to do it. When he stopped off to buy you more comfortable clothes so you could change if you wanted to, he almost called you. And then as he drove across town to pick up the order he placed at your favorite restaurant from your younger years all he could think about was the impromptu kiss he’d left you with.

His hand reached up for the nth time, his thumb unconsciously grazed his lips. The longer he sat there waiting the stronger the urge to call you and apologize became. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on with him when it came to you he was double and triple texting you throughout the week, basically having a conversation with himself with all the messages you’d left unanswered. Checking his phone for what felt like every second of the day, hoping that at some point your contact would be there waiting for him.

Carmen was sure he was going overboard but he couldn’t help the incessant need he felt to surround himself in you. He couldn’t be 100% sure but he felt like the time you spent together after the baby shower, basking in and understanding each other's hurt helped the two of you to come to some new point in your relationship. And then you continued to let him in, you allowed yourself to be the most vulnerable he’d seen you since before your fallout. You allowed him into your life, allowed him to see the hardened parts of you.

Something changed that day…well almost everything changed that day for Carmy. But the morning after as the two of you sat in your backyard and then you asked him to help you tend to your garden he realized he wanted to spend his Sunday mornings like that always with you. With you guiding him, teaching him a trade he wasn’t aware he’d ever enjoy. But watching as the morning sun pierced through the gloomy clouds and illuminated you at such a peaceful moment, the only time he swore he’d seen you truly in peace since you’d arrived back in town.

He remembered watching you from a few feet away tugging at the overgrown weeds, your skin glowing even as the sun fought with the overcast clouds to be able to steal glances at you the way Carmy was allowed to while in your presence. The way your gloved hand would travel up to wipe the sweat off of your face, leaving behind a dusting of dirt and mud in its wake. Carmy could indulge in your beauty forever and not just the physical aspects of it but the beauty in your movement, in the way you spoke, the beauty in your personality, and the grace you gave others; especially him.

Carmy’s reverie was broken as his packaged order was placed in front of him, he sent the worker a quick smile thanking them for their service before gathering his food and exiting the establishment. Carmy usually didn’t have many reasons to feel excited about returning to his lodgings, but reminding himself that he was returning home to you was all the truth he needed to lead him back to you.

The sound of keys turning in the door alerted you to Carmy’s return, but you didn’t give it a second thought as you continued working on the rough draft you began writing in his absence. A spark of motivation hit you as you were left to your own devices in your childhood friend’s apartment.

“Baby?” You let out a small distracted hum as you continued working doing your best to build the foundations of an article you were already weeks behind on. “Baby!” Your head shot up at Carmy’s raised call of your name, eyebrows furrowed until you turned to find him still standing by the door, hands full. The worry you could see on his face melted away the longer he looked at the silver of your head barely visible over the couch from your position on the floor.

You quickly stood up making your way towards him, surprised at how full his hands were, your eyes quickly darting around before landing on the bouquet among the few bags. “You get lost on the way home?” Carmen’s cheeks took on a pink hue at your teasing.

His lack of verbal response caused you to falter, unsure if you had read the situation wrong when he asked you to stay. You watched as his eyes glanced over to his small living area, your laptop open on his coffee table with papers he knew weren’t his scattered around it. You prepared yourself to apologize for the mess knowing Carmy had his own system of organized chaos and that maybe having your own added chaos was unwelcome.

“These are for you,” your eyes snapped back to him as he held out the bouquet to you. “There uh nothing compared to Willie’s but I uh…I saw them on the way home and I,” Carmy cleared his throat looking around for any sense of confidence he could find. “I wanted to get them for you.”

You nodded along with his explanation, uncaring of how much the smile on your lips may have given away your feelings, “Thank you for thinking of me, Carm.” Your hand rested on his forearm as you carefully removed the bouquet from his hand, “Let’s get these in some water yeah?”

Carmy sent you a small shy smile placing his now free hand on your back and leading you to the kitchen portion of his apartment, “Is it okay if I use these as a vase?” Carmy looked in your direction after setting the remainder of the bags on unoccupied counter space, a slight chuckle leaving him as you held up the plastic containers he’d use at the restaurant for certain ingredients and often time to drink out of.

“Course’ Baby.” He watched you for a moment longer, the smile on your face easing whatever doubts he’d been feeling about the rocky status of your relationship, one last longing look sent your way as he began unpacking the food.

The smell of delicious food wafted through the air as you began cutting the stems of your bouquet and arranging them in the containers. You could see Carmy moving around in your peripheral, not paying him much attention as he moved around you, your head finally perking up at the sound of the washing machine starting eyes finding Carmy as he once again joined you in the kitchenette.

You finished arranging the flowers, moving to the sink to fill the makeshift vases with water before turning and looking for a spot for them. The containers were momentarily forgotten as your eyes landed on an all too familiar photo hanging on Carmy’s fridge. A small sad smile lined your lips, the five of you all together like one big happy family, your heart ached for the younger versions of each of you in the picture who wouldn’t realize until it was too late that life wouldn’t always be this way. Your eyes strayed to Mikey’s figure for one last time wishing you had just a bit more time with him.

Giving yourself a small moment to tame your emotions, you maneuvered to the only empty counter space still left. Carefully you placed the two containers in the bit of space, a warmth radiating through you at Carmy randomly buying you flowers, you were loathe to admit it but he was the first person to buy you flowers unprovoked, and the fact that this was his second time doing so was not lost on you.

You turned to Carmy to find him still removing food from the takeaway bag, surprised at the amount of boxes now littering his counter. “Do you need any help?” You leaned back against the stove watching as Carmy’s head shot up, almost as if he’d forgotten you were there.

He nodded, “Could you grab some forks, from the drawer to your left.” He turned back to his previous activity, leaving you to grab the utensils.

Locating the only drawer on your left you quickly grabbed the only two forks taking up space in the draw, a soft laugh escaped you, part of you hoping Carmy had more forks that just needed to be clean. You felt a little sad at the idea of him only having utensils for himself, you were curious how much time he even willingly spent in this apartment but it didn’t feel like something you could outright ask given the awkward tension between the two of you. Though for once it wasn’t Carmy’s fault, you caused the awkwardness this time.

Closing the drawer your eyes focused on the forks for a few moments longer, as if they could give you answers to the self-doubt you felt about fixing your relationship with Carm. Moving to join Carmy you caught a very familiar, very intimate photo tapped above the stove.

You did a double take unsure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, but upon staring head-on at the Polaroid, you were surely not mistaken. From the intimate image of you and Carmy in bed, your eyes so full of love looking at the still image almost made you sick, and of course at the bottom your phone number. A part of you felt angry, it didn’t seem like Carmy had just randomly placed the Polaroid above the stove one day, you couldn’t explain it but the placement felt deliberate and if it hung there for however long it did, then why was it so easy for him to give Claire your number instead of calling you himself when you were sure he saw your number almost every day.

Taking a deep breath you allowed yourself to feel hurt about the picture, you had every right to be. But you also knew if you let your hurt guide you the two of you would just fall back into your cycle of arguing and going days without speaking. It was obvious the two of you had a lot more to talk about, so you would take the high road and hope more things got solved tonight.

“Hey Carm,” your hand reached out to delicately remove the photo from its place on the wall.

“Hmm,” he was now occupied with plating you each a portion of the food, eyes not giving you any attention.

A small smirk made its way to your face as you made your way over to him, your arm brushing his as you stopped next to him. “Do you keep all your porn in the kitchen?”

You felt him freeze next to you arms going slack as his head snapped up to look at the side of your face.

“W-what?” You could hear the slight fear and tinge of embarrassment in his voice, the notion making you smile bigger at how easy it was to mess with him. You allowed him to simmer in those feelings as you perused the plates surprised to see the familiar logos on the takeout boxes, your heart warming at Carmy’s attention to detail. You carefully set the forks on each of the dishes before grabbing the one closest to you.

You dropped the Polaroid in the empty spot the plate once was, “Thank you for dinner Carmy.” You placed a chaste kiss on his cheek before maneuvering yourself around him so you could eat.

The apartment was quiet as you took a seat on the floor, placing your plate on the coffee table, before beginning to eat. The quiet expletive that left Carmy’s lips gained a small laugh from you, you sent him a wide smile as he joined you on the couch, neither of you saying a word as you ate dinner.

The awkward air from earlier returned as the two of you finished your respective meals, the quiet dialogue from the random T.V. show playing was the only noise in the apartment as you and Carmy sat on opposite sides of the couch. You intended to initiate a conversation after dinner but found yourself overthinking the best way to address everything between you two at the moment. The longer you sat there in silence the more resigned you felt to just thank Carm for dinner and leave his apartment without another word.

As if the atmosphere wasn’t ripe enough with tension, the “sneaky” glances the two of you stole from each other did little to help especially when one of you caught the other and shy smiles ensued. You felt like a teenager all over again all shy and uncertain. But the longer you sat in Carmy’s apartment you realized just how juvenile this all was, Carmy already knew how strongly you felt for him and if it wasn’t clear when you let him pump and dump you a year ago, then you were damn well sure it was clear when you yelled that you loved him in the restaurant all those weeks ago. And now the two of you were just dancing around what everybody else had known for some time.

Suddenly you sat forward from your position on the couch reaching to grab your bag off the coffee table. Carefully removing the pristine envelope you placed your bag down and turned to look at Carmy, unsurprised to find his eyes already on you.

You held out your hand to him urging him to take the envelope, “This came in the mail today. Everything is in your name now, the trademark is yours, Carm.” You waited with bated breath as his eyes flickered from yours down to the envelope in your hand, confusion sweeping over you the longer the envelope hung between the two of you.

His hand reached out gently removing the object from your grip, you wanted to tease him from the unnecessary contact he’d created. His hand latched delicately around your wrist to hold it in place while his free hand reached for the envelope, the hand still holding your wrist gently slid away as he pulled back making sure each of his work-calloused fingers left behind the whisper of a kiss against your now empty palm.

You watched as he silently opened the envelope taking the time to read over the enclosed document. You could tell he read it more than once, likely soaking in that what he’d been working for was finally coming to fruition; that Mikey’s dream would finally become reality. Your heart lurched as his fingers traced over the printed words, you couldn’t help the wetness that rose to your waterline, a feeling of gratefulness raced through you at the fact that you were back here in Chicago surrounded by family watching each of them accomplish something different.

As Carmy continued ruminating on whatever thoughts were racing through his head, you quietly began gathering your items feeling as though this was a good time to call it a night. You had just slipped on your jacket when you felt pressure at the base of your spine, looking over your shoulder to find Carmy’s confused eyes looking at you.

“You’re leaving?” You were surprised by the slight hurt in his voice, your arms dropping to your side as you felt like you had done something wrong.

You gave him a small nod motioning toward the watch on your wrist, “It's late Carm, I don’t want to inconvenience you more than I already have.” You hoped the joking tone in your voice was evident to him.

“You haven’t inconvenienced me.” The conviction in his voice wasn’t lost as you stared at him for a moment.

A quiet laugh left you, “I showed up at your doorstep unannounced Carm, and then I basically forced you into buying me dinner. Does that not sound inconvenient to you? Plus, I’m sure you want some alone time.”

His eyes locked on yours as though he were searching for something, you couldn’t be sure but standing in his living room under his penetrating gaze like so warmed you. You watched as a light blush raced up his neck, his cheeks tinging a pretty shade of pink, you could tell his mind was racing with what to say next, his eyes were still locked on yours but now had a faraway look to them.

“Would it…ahem,” the clearing of his throat brought his full focus back to you. “Would it be weird if I wanted to spend my alone time with…uh with you?”

It was quiet after his confession, the smile you once held dropping as you realized his words to be serious, his widening eyes told you that he was seconds from backtracking on his previous words. You quickly shook your head, sending him a quick smile.

“Are you asking me to have a sleepover with you, Carmy?” Your eyes were full of mirth as his earlier blush deepened when your eyes found his once again. “Like when we were kids?” The latter question was unnecessary it would always be worth it every time if it meant you got to watch Carmy clam up as he thought of a way to relieve his embarrassment.

You waited for his response, part of you assuming you’d teased him too much as he just stared at you wide-eyed, you tried to laugh off the awkwardness you were beginning to feel. “It was sweet of you to ask Carm, but I don’t have an emergency overnight bag in my car.” You hoped your tone didn’t give away just how much you were actually thinking about accepting his offer.

“You do.” You frowned at his words, eyebrows raising as you urged him to continue, “I mean…it's just that I uh picked up some stuff for you when I was out.”

You felt your heart clench at Carmy’s confession, his eyes looking everywhere but at your as he realized how the whole thing may have come across to you. “I…sorry I didn’t mean to overstep or…or imply anything I just-,”

“Carm hey,” you reached out to grip his hand, your thumb rubbing soothing circles against it. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I’d be happy to spend the night with you.”

He nodded, you could still see the apprehension on his face and you couldn’t tell if it was because of his own actions, or if he was regretting having asked you to stay the night in the first place.

“Not to sound ungrateful but did you happen to pick up anything I could change into?” Your question had its intended effect, diverting Carmy’s attention as he pointed to the washer in answer before leading you back to the kitchenette to the still-full bag you paid little attention to while in the kitchen with him earlier.

To say it was a surprise to see the bag full of the products that could be found in your bathroom back home would be a lie. You zoned out as Carmy took the time to explain that he picked out what he could remember seeing in your shower, your eyes burning into the side of his head as you took the time to allow the events of the past hour to sink into your mind thinking back on the advice you’d received from Natalie.

“Baby?” The questioning tone of Carmy’s voice revealed he tried to gain your attention for some time now.

You blinked a couple of times your eyes immediately finding Carmy’s as you cleared the blur of tears away. You couldn’t help the way your heart seemed to beat faster the longer you looked at him, or the way it ached all the same as though it was longing for a want that was finally so close, a want that could become tangible if you allowed it to. The silence permeated between the two of you, worry lines etching into Carmy’s forehead the longer you went without speaking.

It was as though a realization had just dawned on you, sure you were standing in front of Carmen Berzatto, but you didn’t know this man standing in front of you; not really. He was so different from the young man you left behind all of those years ago and in some ways all the same. Although you’d seen him at Christmas that one time and spent a few hours with him in New York, neither of those instances made up for the 10 years the two of you spent apart living and maturing without each other.

But you wanted to know him, to know him intimately. To know him as a friend and a lover and everything in between. And even though you still had so much time to make up for between the two of you, you knew deep down that it would all be okay. You knew it in the way he cared for you as you showcased your most vulnerable parts to him. He showed it in the way he forgave you so easily for hiding such a horrifying truth from him. In the way he checked in on you over this week as you went silent, the way he so easily invited you into his space made sure you ate, and brought you flowers all because he wanted to.

It felt abysmal the way you were picking at straws at this moment, but Natalie was right the self-sabotaging was getting ridiculous. And right now all you wanted was to be happy, and Carmy seemed to be offering you that in his in-experienced way.

You took a step forward, arms instantly wrapping around his neck as you melted into him regardless of whether he returned your affection. But it was immediate, the way one of his firm arms snaked around your waist, the remaining one moving up to grip the back of your neck holding you as tight as he possibly could, if it was possible you were sure he would’ve melded your bodies together. The rough pad of his thumb swept across the skin of your neck, you listened as he took a sharp intake of breath, his body relaxing into yours even more as he inhaled your scent finding comfort in the mixture of your signature perfume and just the smell of you.

“I’ve missed you so much, Carmen.” The quiet words found their home in the space of his neck, your soft lips leaving behind the ghost of a kiss.

a/n: domestic filler with a subtle splash of fluff and angst. next chapter will pick up where this one left off enjoy. 🤍

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy the bear x reader #the bear fic #the bear x reader #the bear x you #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 11 months

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The Day the Music Died

I’m sorry that this is gonna be so angsty, but I used to be in the marvel fandom where the reader died all the time and I love this trend on tiktok so

Summary: The Grid has to say goodbye to their favorite girl

2023 F1 Grid x young!fem!reader

(For the sake of this story, reader is Aston Martin driver alongside Fernando, and Lance is the reserved driver, she can also be American if you want to really fit the song)

It was your favorite kind of race, a few hours away from midnight, and it was pouring rain, meaning the race was going to be more unpredictable and chaotic than usual.

You’ve always loved the rain and the extra risk factor it bought to Formula 1, so when your engineer told you the conditions were going to stay the same for the race, a bright smile took over your face, brighter than your usual one.

Your smile was one of your trademarks on the grid, often being compared to Daniel Ricciardo on the matter. Despite the age gap, you and the Australian were quite close and were like walking rays of sunshine when the two of you were together.

You were closest with the other young drivers the most though, Lando, George, Zhou, Yuki, and your teammate Lance being your closest companions.

You describe the grid as being like in a family, your teammate Fernando was like your grid dad, always looking out for you and defending you when the media felt a little extra vicious. The older men on the grid like uncles, looking out for you but letting you have your fun.

Drivers like Carlos, Charles, Pierre, Max, Esteban, and Alex were like cousins, you messed around with each other but always looking out for the other. Reporters called you “the glue” saying that your youthful spirit had helped bond the drivers as more than just competition.

So it made sense that a lot of drivers were worried when your car went into the barriers during the race.

Sunday started off fine, you had a goodnight sleep, hung out with your PR officer for breakfast and walked into the paddock with a smile on your face.

You greeted other drivers and the co-workers you knew as you worked your way to your garage and into your drivers room, changed into your drivers suit and reviewed your strategy with a few engineers before you had to head into the garage to get into your car.

“Radio check Y/n, radio check” Your engineer came over the radio. “Loud and clear” You replied, the adrenaline and excitement already kicking in as you were given the go-ahead to head onto the track for the formation lap. The mist from the cars around you and your soaked visor limited your vision, but you managed to find your way to your spot on the track. You were starting P5 today and were already anxious to start the race.

The flag was waved, the five red lights came on and off before all 20 cars were accelerating down the track, trying to gain positions early. You held on to P5 throughout the race, trying to defend against Carlos Sainz’ Ferrari behind you and trying to overtake Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari in front of you.

It was Lap 25 when you attempted another overtake on Leclerc, speeding down the straight and trying to gain on him before the corner. Right as you were beginning your turn into the corner, your tires locked up and you headed into the barriers, going too fast for your brakes to properly stop the car.

You felt the impact on the right side of your abdomen first, then your head, then your legs. It was like being compressed into a small box then slammed against a cement wall.

What happened? Why aren’t I on the track? Your vision went dizzy as you tried to remember what happened. I must have locked up, but why does my side hurt so bad?

“Oh no! Big crash on Turn 7, I think that was Y/n L/n’s Aston Martin! That looked bad, might be a red flag if L/n doesn’t show responsiveness” Martin Brundle spoke worriedly, crashes during stormy races were never good.

Just focus on getting out of the car, you told yourself. You wrapped your arms around the halo to try and lift yourself up but the dizziness in your head combined with the immediate pain in your right side made you sit back down. I probably hurt my ribs, you thought. It’s fine, I’ll just wait for the medics.

Brundle was right, the yellow flag was waved first and the cars slowed down, but it soon became clear that the race wasn’t going to continue for a bit. After a few minutes of waiting for you, a red flag was waved and the medical team was sent out.

Black spots danced in your vision as you tried to look around for the marshals. You expected your vision to clear up after a second, but it never did. Your world just became fuzzier and darker.

You started hearing sirens of an ambulance approaching, but your arms felt too heavy to raise in a sign of acknowledgement.

“The safety car and marshals arrive at the scene, still no movement from L/n” Martin’s voice becomes somber but he stays hopeful, of course you were fine, you never get hurt, you’d get out in a moment and everything would be fine.

You couldn’t keep yourself awake for much longer. It’s okay, at least I’m okay, right? Right? You asked yourself that question, expecting to wake up in a couple minutes. You weren’t scared of going unconscious, you’d be okay. But your eyes closed for the last time before you could find an answer and it was over before you even realized it’d begun.

The drivers were still in their cars, wondering what had happened. They knew you had crashed, but they knew you were strong, you’ll walk out of your car and dramatically insist Daniel give you a piggy back ride when you saw him. “You didn’t even hurt your legs!” He’d complain and you’d just shrug and tell him to let you climb on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the race might not continue for a bit, at least until Y/n L/n is safe and taken off the track” Martin tries to keep the viewers updated as curtains are placed around your car to keep the cameras away from you.

Everyone is getting antsy at this point, your engineer got no radio from you and there is no word from the medics yet. The drivers are calling in every other minute, anxious to hear from you. “Is she okay?” Fernando calls in. “Do we know if Y/n’s alright?” Carlos asks, having seen the crash up close. Daniel even walks into your garage, wanting to see for himself if there was any news on your crash.

As a Formula 1 Medic, Rowan should be prepared to handle any type of crash a driver was in, ranging from a bruise on their stomach to a broken leg, she was trained to handle it. But Rowan had never seen a dying person before, so her hesitation to help her coworker with lifting L/n out of her car was understandable.

Two other medics immediately crowd the girl. Rowan searching for a pulse, one taking off the teen’s helmet, and the third wrestling with the drivers suit, trying to assess the damage that could by covered by the clothing.

“Rowan, have you found a pulse?” One of the other medics who’s rummaging ambulance for supplies asks. Rowan doesn’t want to answer. She doesn’t want to face this. She wants to check her neck, her heart, and her wrist again even though she already did three times. Rowan doesn’t want to be one to tell everyone that Y/n L/n is dead, but Rowan knows better than that, so she removes her hands from the drivers body, hangs her head low, and closes her eyes as if that would stop her tears from falling.

“No pulse. I’ve checked everywhere three times. She’s gone.” The medic’s voice cracks as she says the last sentence, and a silence overcomes the team of safety marshals.

Nobody on the team had ever encountered a death before, so the medical staff was stuck in a mournful silence, letting the rain wash away the tears that threatened to drop from their cheeks.

The head of the team snaps out of it first. “Someone has to radio the Aston Martin garage and tell them” Everyone seems to step away, wanting to avoid being the one to announce the death. There was nothing to worry about though, as Rowan spoke up. “I’ll do it. I’ll make call” No one disagrees, and Rowan’s glad because she felt partly responsible, she should’ve gotten to Y/n quicker, helped her out of the car, told everyone to move quicker.

Rowan’s voice comes over the radio, shaky and somber. “Y/n L/n is dead. She has no pulse.” She pauses as her throat closes up. “We’ll take her to the medical center-“ That’s all the woman can manage before she bursts into tears and started shaking with sobs. Another medics pulls her closer to them, as they give a moment of silence for the driver.

The young medic is only a few years older than the girl who just died, questions herself, “What if I got there faster?” It lingers in her mind.

Gasps. Tears. Hands cover faces and people are pulled into hugs. Dead? Daniel thinks, no, she isn’t dead, Y/n- she can’t- she’s not dead. Before he realizes, he’s saying the words out loud and pressing the radio button before Otmar can stop him. “I- what do you mean she’s dead? She can’t be dead- she can’t be” The Australian has tears running down his face and he’s pulled away by one of the Aston Martin engineers.

Nobody knows what has happened except those in the Aston Martin garage, and nobody will know until 7:00am the next morning, when Y/n L/n’s death is announced by Aston Martin.

It seems like the entire world came together to offer their support. Millions of messages are sent to Y/n’s family and her friends and bouquets of flowers are sent to Y/n’s P.O. Box.

The funeral is held on Friday, family, friends, drivers, and co-workers show up to Y/n’s home town to mourn their beloved driver.

A moment of silence is held at the race three weeks later, nearly every driver cries and everyone that has a helmet has a sticker with your initials on it. Fernando wins for you and points at the sky as he sobs for his teammate that was like his daughter.

The paddock no longer feels the same. There was no longer a green suit to watch as she bounced around, talking to anyone and everyone, keeping a smile on her face through it all. There is something so clearly missing in the Aston Martin videos, no matter how much time passes. Fans rewatch her live streams and interviews because it’s all the comfort they have. You used to call the grid dinner outings “family dinner” but families smile and laugh together, and it takes a while before the grid can do that again.

Y/n L/n goes down in the Formula 1 Hall of Fame as the best female driver that has ever lived, but the whole world wishes she was there to see her induction herself.

The day the music died

So bye-bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee

But the levee was dry

Them good old boys were drinking whisky and rye

Singing, “This’ll be the day I die”

This will be the day that I die

if you’re confused on how y/n dies, I wrote it as her internal organs got crushes as she crashed straight into the barrier, i know it doesn’t really make sense and it took me me awhile to make this edit but I kinda forgot about it

also, I want to write more f1 fics after this, so if you have any suggestions on what team the reader should be on and what driver the reader should be with lmk 🫶

#formula 1 #reader insert #f1 2023 #f1 x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 drivers #driver reader #female driver reader #female f1 driver

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queers-gambit · 1 month

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My Date With the President's Daughter

part one: Blue Bunny

prompt: your father finds out about Tangerine in the worst way during a charity gala before marauders try to rob it.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 6.3k+

note: a little Disney Channel throwback in the title anyone?

warnings: use of Irish names that DO NOT dictate race, more Mafia antics, short smut / interrupted smut (you'll see), NSFW i think, mature content, cursing, chaos and violence, weapons: guns and knives, blood. dead bodies, reader's a Daddy's Girl, abrupt ending, slight angst, more hurt and comfort i guess, author still has no idea what this plot is - revoke her internet access.

The theme of the gala that night was inspired by the Palace of Versailles; regal, royal, glittering and so very, very gold. It was held at one of the most expensive hotels in the city, the entire building rented out in preparation with three different caterers and expensive bottles of alcohol being served. The gala was THE place to be - most people vying for an invitation, everyone who was anyone in attendance; dripping in designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry that sparkled in candlelight.

Every single year for the past 25 years, your legendary father hosted a large charity event that your mother was project manager of - meaning she chose the themes, decor, and the invite list. Only elite persons (both in the public and private eye) with deep pockets were invited, knowing they'd cut a large check if they wanted your father to stay out of their business territories. So, in honor of the richer-than-rich attendees, your mother used grand and golden decorations; creating a tastefully regal atmosphere for those who didn't actually have a drop of royal blood in their veins.

You father, Fallon, meaning "leader" in the ancient Celtic language, looked as handsome and dapper as ever; his tux dry cleaned, steamed, ironed, and tailored, paired with clean and shining dress shoes that had a bright red sole. His hair was slicked back, tattoos on his neck visible from the swept-back style.

Your mother, Maeve, whose name meant "she who rules", looked like she had just walked off a runway. Her dress hugged her slender and impressive figure, the material shimmering under the soft lighting. Her heels were high, hair pinned off her neck to show off bright diamond earrings that matched the thin chain of glittering gems around her collarbones, the sparkling tennis bracelet, and the absurdly large wedding ring on her finger. Her face was lightly painted with make-up, always a woman who didn't need much - if any at all. You prayed to age as gracefully as she.

Your brother, Oisín - pronounced [Oh - Sheen] - meant "little deer"; a cheeky but shy lad at the ripe age of 10. He wore a matching tux as your father, and had an emerald broach pinned on his lapel to indicate he belonged to your family. His au pair was supposed to be watching him so you could mingle with donors, but Oisín didn't stray from your side; a wee hand holding the material of your expensive dress on your hip to keep himself from getting lost.

The gala was crowded. Large event room stifling, requiring the air be turned on. Perfume assaulting the senses in a clash of scents.

The trademark "cha-ching" sound effect echoed in your mind as you shmoozed a few guests into their donations; impressing your brother by how easy you made it look. You thanked each donor with a pretty smile and fluttering lashes, floating around the room to meet other investors; giving them your family's charity's mission statement and explained where their money would go. Most of the people in this room were seedy criminals - similar to your father - and the other few were corrupt politicians who were nestled in the criminal's pockets.

By no means was the night boring, but this was work for you; all business, no pleasure.

The decor your mother chose had a lot of glittering gold details; a few imported busts and statues, an entire wall full of sculpted grass to mimic the Palace's own garden designs; artwork hung in thick, intricate frames, bright crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The event hall was specifically chosen for the floor-to-ceiling windows, sculpted shrubbery planted around the room; banquet tables covered in white cloth and chairs made of white plush - complimenting the detailed golden accents. It was gorgeous, you were impressed by your mother's attention to detail.

You wore a dress made of fine silk, the pretty green hue complimenting your skin tone; hair left down, pinned at the sides, showing off the dangling, expensive earrings your father gifted you on your 18th birthday. You, too, wore heels that forced you to walk taller and with calculated steps; rimmed eyes darting around to ensure there wasn't any shady business transpiring. But when surrounded by people who made their living by being sketchy, it was hard to clock each and every movement; being why your father had hired a very specific (and loyal) security service.

With several checks in hand, you visited your father's banker, a mute man named Bradley, and handed them over for safe keeping; your brother able to practice his sign language. Bradley was happy to reply, your entire family versed in multiple languages, and showed the young lad his process of collecting and documenting the donations. After tallying your new checks to the grand total, he used British Sign Language to inform you and Oisín of the updated tally generated so far.

"Why does Daddy need to do this?" The young lad asked, holding your hand tightly; not being a fan of social interactions - especially to this magnitude.

"To keep business moving squeaky clean," you answered softly, smiling at a few who passed you. "Money makes the world go 'round, don't it?"

He sighed, "Do we know all these people?"

"We do, they're Daddy's associates," you nodded, "and you best believe, they all know us. See, one day, you'll learn their names and what businesses they provide, how Daddy keeps them all employed."

Oisín looked uncomfortable, wondering, "Are they dangerous? Like the guys that came for Christmas?"

You came to a halt around the edge of the room, caressing his head while being careful not to muse his hair out of place. "They're all dangerous, in their own way, yes, lovie. But," you lowered into a squat so you could look your brother in his eyes, "you'll learn, Daddy's much more dangerous. So, we host events like this t'keep everyone happy and in line, you see? It's a power play."

He nodded, glancing around the room of adults. "Do I have to stay the whole time, though? Mommy said I could invite Darrel and Kevin - they're over there," he pointed towards one of the round tables, two of his classmates laughing with their mothers standing off to the side. "And I'm hungry!"

"Oh, you're a hungry lad, is it?" You smiled, watching his head bob. "Well then, in that case, we should feed you, huh? C'mon," you straightened and offered your hand, which he took gratefully. "We'll get yah fed, sweetums, and you can hang with your friends, yeah?"

"Daddy won't be mad?"

"No, I'll tell him you did really well tonight, helping me collect donations," you winked, leading him to one of the catering tables. You made up his plate with different options, carrying it to the table his friends, Darrel and Kevin, were sat at.

The boys - who looked adorably dapper in suits and bowties - greeted your brother happily; letting you set his plate down and greet the mothers kindly to thank them for their attendance that night.

"Oh, Miss!" Your brother's au pair, Lisa, hustled up to you, "I'm so sorry, I lost track - "

"No, no, 's fine, you're all right, deep breath, love," you assured, squeezing her upper arm. "Having a good night so far?"

"Oh, it's magical, Miss, innit?" She beamed, looking around in wonder. "Never been before despite working for your family all these years, I'm grateful for your mother's invitation tonight."

"Oh, we're very happy to host yah, sweetheart," you smiled. "But, uh, you mind keepin' an eye on Oisín for me? I've gotta work a bit more. He just wants t'hang with his friends, think he's a bit tired."

"Of course," she rushed.

"I'd wager you can take him t'bed after Daddy's speech, hmm? I know he'll want Oisín here for that, at the very least."

Lisa agreed, mingling with the other mothers as you pecked Oisín's head and told him to behave, that you were gonna go back to working the gala; which he at least acknowledged before being sucked back into a card game with Darrel. You didn't mind the blow off, liking the idea that he had as normal of a life as possible - a farfetched idea considering your father ran the bloody Irish Mafia and all. He's attended three different schools since he started his educational career, so you were content to leave him with his friends; letting boys be boys.

After making another deposit to Bradley, you visited one of the modern and unique glass bars (one of three stations) while feeling somewhat dejected by the night's missing guest. But speak (or think) of the Devil and He shall appear.

"You weren't kiddin' when you said your family goes all out for events like this. Jesus fuckin' Christ," a familiar, accented voice crooned; a body saddling up to the bar beside you. You first saw his hands clasped together on the bar, recognizing the golden rings and single bracelet, smirking as your eyes lifted to meet that of Aaron - or Tangerine.

"You're late," you mused, locking eyes with the bartender and holding up two fingers; indicating you now wanted two of the drinks you ordered, him nodding.

"Sorry 'bout that, love, yeah, no, Lem and I got caught up in somethin', had ta deal, then get cleaned up for yah. Figured you wouldn't want us walkin' in here with blood on us."

"You'd be right," you hummed, red painted lips stretching in amusement as you both casually leaned on the glass bartop with your forearms. "Doesn't matter, you're here now - thank God."

"That bad, huh?"

"Not like previous years," you admitted, sending a glance over your shoulder at the group of milling socialites. "Since Daddy inducted The Agency, some traction's picked up believe it or not. Seems like a lot of people like the idea of contract killers for hire and investing in the Black Market. Seems like you lot really up the ante, don't'cha?"

"Ah," he smirked, "you're welcome, then. Happy t'be of service."

"I'll only thank you when you make a donation to the cause."

"Yeah?" He smirked. "Well, you got anywhere private for me to write a check, then, love? Can't have anyone knowin' I'm charitable, got a reputation to uphold, know what I mean?" Then he leaned in real close, lips ghosted against your ear and making a shiver shoot down your spine, "C'mon, doll, 's been 3 weeks since I've seen yah."

"I know," you sighed, "but we've been busy tonight. Plus, Daddy would kill you - like, actually kill you - 'cause he's listed you specifically for me to stay away from."

"And yet, here you are, naughty girl, huh? Disobeying orders?" He smirked and put a space between you for the sake of appearances, two glasses of whiskey set before you. "Your Daddy's been preoccupied all night, love - don't think he'd even notice if we pop out for a bit. 'Fraid to admit but if I don't get you alone soon, I might actually lose my shit, darlin', honestly."

"Aaron, sweetheart, my family is hosting this event and we're responsible for collections," you deadpanned, but smirked, "'s a bit inappropriate to abandon such an important night by sneaking off."

"Can't tell me you're not tempted."

Now, you full-on grinned, "I didn't wear panties for a reason."

"You fuckin' tease," he growled over the rim of the crystal glass. When he tasted the whiskey, he hummed in shock, looking at the amber liquid, "Fuck me, that's nice."

"My family may or may not own several distilleries. You're drinking an exquisite, 15-year ol' whiskey, love." You took your own sip, casting another look around the room, finding your brother first, still with his friends before locating your parents. They were pleasantly distracted by an ambassador, making you grin at Tangerine, "C'mon."

"Hey?" He wondered, quickly setting his half-drank glass down as you snatched his free hand to quickly lead him away. He smirked and casted a look over his shoulder, instantly meeting Lemon's eyes - finding him laughing at the pair of you, toasting his drink at his brother in impression as if he knew what you two were up to.

Thanks to Thomas the Tank Engine, Lemon definitely knew what you two were doing - being excellent at reading people.

You lead your lover out of the event hall, checking up and down the empty hall and missing the way one of the security guards clocked your escape. You lead Tangerine into the large, private, unisex bathroom; shoving him against the closed door and instantly latching onto him in a deep kiss.

He was fully prepared, catching your hips; hissing a breath in through his nose, releasing a gentle moan out of sheer relief. When you pulled back, he grinned, "Got no idea how much I fuckin' missed yah, darlin'."

"Missed you more," you whispered in a rush, arms wrapping around his neck as he simultaneously began backing you up. It was a hungry kiss; heated, passionate, teeth clanking from impact, both attempting to make up for lost time. Ever in-sync, both your mouths opened to push your tongues against one another; exchanging saliva and the taste of expensive whiskey.

"C'mere," he panted after having backed you into the sink counter, seizing hold of your silken hips and hoisting you upwards. Your mouths were never far apart, joining together once more now that you were sat at a vantage point. Your hands shoved his navy blue suit jacket from his shoulders, it being set aside to the other end of the counter while you worked on his belt. "Never goin' this long again," he mumbled into your kiss, pushing the material of your dress up to let your legs spread wider in accommodation. Your lover rushed, "Jesus, fuck, feels like forever, don't it?"

You nodded as his hands pushed under the bunched material to grip the plush meat of your thighs; giving a gentle massage before sliding them higher until he met your bare hips. The cold counter bit into your exposed flesh.

"Oh, fuck me, you really didn't wear panties?" He groaned, glancing down as he lifted silk from your lap to catch a glimpse of your bare cunt - ready to greet him.

"Had a feelin' you'd show up, you just can't stay away, can yah?" You smirked, cheekily licking his lips as his belt clattered open. "Thought you'd might appreciate it," your chuckle was swallowed by his moan as the zipper of his trousers sounded almost shrilly to your over heightened senses. "Just need you close, so fuckin' close, please, missed you, baby - "

"No idea how much I've missed you, love, fuckin' hell," he rushed, reaching into his briefs the moment you had loosened the waistband of his tailored trousers to take hold of his cock. "This ain't gonna be nice an' easy, love, yeah? All right?" He checked, feeling you slide to the edge of the counter.

"Didn't think anything else," you grinned, gasping lightly when the head of his cock swept up and down your slit. "Plenty of time for that later, just need you fuckin' close - closer than close."

"Feel how fuckin' wet you are already? Goddamnit - "

"All for you, baby, c'mon, don't tease - "

In a single motion, Tangerine sheathed himself in your warmth, grinning in mischief, "Huh? Sayin' somethin', weren't yah, doll? Go 'head, finish your sentence, 'M listening."

You only chuckled, hands holding his neck and bicep in vice grips to keep yourself anchored as close as possible to him. "Three weeks without yah, and you wanna provoke me?" You whispered, feeling him begin to thrust in agonizing movements.

"Wouldn't be me if I didn't, huh?"

You chuckled breathlessly - gasping when, suddenly, the bathroom door burst open. You were facing that way, looking up from Tangerine's shoulder, only to discover your worst fear. "Holy shit! Daddy!?" You squeaked, Tangerine jolting and cursing in a hushed tone as he instantly yanked out of your wet warmth.

"Oh, you betta be fuckin' kiddin' me," your father seethed. "The fuck is goin' on here!? What the fuck are you goin'!? Who the fuck is that - is-is-is that who I think it is?" He growled, your lover fumbling to tuck himself away and pull his trousers back together - not moving from between your legs in an effort to preserve your modesty. But he had turned slightly to give your father a glimpse of his face, making your Daddy snarl, "Oh, bloody fuckin' hell! You serious? Fuckin' Tangerine, is it? You lost your mind, girl!?"

"Daddy, please," you warbled nervously, tears of anxiety gathering.

"Get the fuck out here - now! Boff of yah's!" He commanded in a roar, stepping out of the doorway.

"Oh, holy fuck," Aaron breathed, latching his belt and looking at you with wide eyes. "Well, was nice while this lasted, huh? Gonna miss yah, pretty girl - "

"The fuck are you - "

"He's gonna fuckin' kill me, sugar," Tangerine frowned, your dress falling gracefully into place when you slid off the counter. "Your father's gonna fuckin' kill me, Goddamnit," he pulled his suit jacket back on. "Think I can make it out that window?"

"He already knows it's you, runnin' now won't help," you sniffled, shaking your head and moving for the still-opened door. "You didn't think to fucking lock the door? Jesus fuck, Aaron..."

He followed after you, meeting your father in the empty hallway outside where the gala was in full-swing. He looked enraged, jaw clenched and wide eyes ablaze, looking the both of you over in disgust. "You out of your bloody mind you stupid girl? Huh?" He demanded, "I told you - very clearly - you weren't to fuckin' see him again."

"Daddy - "

"And this is how I find out? Huh? That my daughter doesn't respect my authority or listen to my words? How the fuck do you think people would react to that? They see you disobeying and get the idea to do the same."

"I'm not yours to command - "

"You're my daughter!" Fallon barked in anger, "My only fuckin' daughter, which means, you are, indeed, mine to command - just like everyone else in this fucking organization! You understand? My word is law - "

"This isn't just some petty fling, Daddy, that I'm engaged in to pass the time! I'm in love with him!" You blurted out, eyes widening when you heard your own words and watched your father's face fall.

"Beg your pardon?" He seethed slowly. "Have you gone mental? Finally fuckin' lost it? Huh? You must be outta your Goddamn mind if you think you love this silly fuck! He doesn't love you back, Y/N, you're just a coveted prize because you're my daughter - it's a thrill to men like him! Women like you, you're just trophies! There's no authenticity - "

"With all due respect," Tangerine interrupted boldly with anger lacing his words, "but you've got it all wrong, sir. Your daughter is the most important person t'me - outside my bruva, of course. She's not a trophy to collect, she's not a dainty object for me to store onna shelf - she's not a notch on my belt. But you're right about one thing," his arm extended around your waist, "she is the most coveted prize - but that's because of who she is, not who her father is. She's my prize, yeah, because she's the end goal men search their whole lives for and for whatever reason, she fuckin' chose me. I consider it the greatest honor - "

"You got some fuckin' nerve, don't'cha?" Your father growled. "You know what, lad? Since it's evident my daughter doesn't take me seriously, maybe you'll be smart enough to heed my warning. You leave her the fuck alone or - "

"I can't do that, sir," Tan refused, "'cause like it or not, I'm mad for her. Absolutely stupid for her. I love your daughter past words, don't even think I've ever loved someone 'cause bein' with her feels so fuckin' different in comparison.

"That so?"

Tangerine nodded, other hand shoving into his pocket to toy with the cool metal of golden brass knuckles. "There's nobody in this world like your daughter, sir. Bein' in love with her is like euphoria, yeah? Makes me think back and realize how wrong I was about my feelings for anyone else 'cause of how I feel for her. I say there ain't no way I've ever loved anyone else 'cause I've never felt this way before - I've only felt this type of love with your daughter. Yeah? She's fuckin' everything to me, so, with respect, I can't stay away. I won't."

"Yeah? Yeah? Fuckin' fine. All right, sure, let's see if The Agency has anythin' t'say about this, huh? When I pull the plug on this deal, I'll be sure to tell your employers why and let them deal with you for ruining this business partnership."

"Daddy," you gasped, rushing when he turned for the event hall's doors, Aaron following swiftly. You caught the metal doors when your father yanked them open and strode into the room, doing your best to catch him before he did anything too rash. "Wait, wait, Daddy, please, just listen, listen to me - I didn't mean for this to happen!"

"Didn't mean for what? Me findin' yah fuckin' in the bathroom like a desperate whore?" He snarled over his shoulder, the thick crowd slowing him.

"Well, yes, but I also didn't mean to fall in love with him! All right? But you know better than all of us that it's not a choice, it just happens! Look at you and Mum - "

He rounded on you, Tan at your flank, opening his mouth to scold you when something caught his eye behind you. You didn't have time to question him as rapid shots filled the air, a telltale sign of an automatic gun being fired in the crowded room. You flinched slightly, Tangerine instantly grabbing your waist to cover your body with his; turning to locate the threat, only to discover a gaggle of men in all black wearing ski masks and duffel bags on their shoulders.

"Friends of yours?" Tan snipped at your father, keeping you low as the crowd shrieked in panic - all trying to escape, still being shot at. This caused the seedy individuals with guns to take a stand and shoot back at the intruders, creating mass confusion and limited advantages.

"Bruv!"

"Brian," Aaron panted, people bumping into one another as they panicked in a flood of bodies. He looked down at you and then to your father, Fallon, only to find blood blooming under his white button up. "Oh, fuck," his eyes widened, gunshots still sounding, "right, we gotta move - can deal with everything else later. Here, here, here," Tangerine plucked a cloth napkin from a nearby table and shoved it over your father's wound to help staunch the bleeding.

"They got the doors, mate," Lemon shook his head when you noticed your father's wound. Luckily, it didn't appear to be in a fatal location, his hand holding pressure as the security detail were being gunned down. "The fuck do we do now?" Lemon asked over shrill shrieks.

"What we do best," Tangerine answered, pushing your father into action and brandishing his gun. "Stay close - "

"I'm not leaving without my wife and son!" Your father growled.

"Lem!"

"On it," he agreed, disappearing into the swarm of people.

Your lover kept you close, shoving through the crowd to lead towards a set of heavy metal doors. Several men stepped in your way, Tan sneering, "Right, fuck this." He opened fire.

You squeaked in shock when a different body tackled Aaron from the side to knock him out of sight, your father keeping a hold on you as straggling bodies dropped around you. "There he is!" You heard over the confusion, locating a set of men surging towards you.

There was nowhere to go, leaving you to physically block your father in a bid to protect him - not needing to when Tangerine intercepted the two threats. He didn't have his gun anymore, lost in a stampede of feet on bloody marble floors, opting to use his fists and brute strength against the robbers. The brass knuckles helped.

You had to admit, it was the perfect night to attack considering how much money Bradley was keeping track of. Plus the fact that everyone's guard was down made tonight the perfect opportunity for marauders to act against your family.

However, in a sea of confusion, you were separated from your father's side; losing him amongst the people and feeling a tight hand seize your upper arm. "I got the daughter!" The man in a ski mask informed through the visible comms system. "Moving for the south wing, bring the van around t'the alley."

"Aaron!" You begged, trying to wrangle free but discovering your strength was nothing compared to the 6'3'' goon's. "Aaron! Aaron, please! Help!"

"Shut the fuck up," the man snapped, backhanding you and never releasing his grip. A single trickle of blood oozed from one nostril as the man's ring split your bottom lip. "Fuckin' move!" He barked at you in a thick accent, "Move, bitch, let's go!"

"What do you want!? Please, just - just tell me! I can give you whatever it is - please! Fucking let go!"

Another enemy joined you, sneering, "Oi! The fuck you doin'? Don't damage the goods, fuckin' idiot, we gotta keep her in decent shape for the ransom! Fallon ain't payin' if his daughter's been assaulted - "

But a gunshot boomed and the other man's body jolted before falling flat on his back - dead with a hole in his forehead. You tried to capitalize on your captor's shock, unsuccessful, feeling blood splatter on your back from a different fallen body. You saw your father under the wing of his security, his own gun being used in defense, begging, "Daddy! Daddy, help!"

The one night you don't ensure your thigh holster's filled, of course this happens!

Fallon was only able to watch as Tangerine fought his way up to you struggling in the bulky man's grip; impressed when one contract killer engaged another. "Oi!" Tan barked, "Hands off my girl, yah fuckin' lunatic!" He threw several punches, the goon forced to release you to defend himself. Fallon watched as Tangerine waited until you were freed and a step to the side before opening fire again - killing the man who dared touch you. He realized that Tangerine had waited until you were clear to take the shot - feeling impression plant in his gut. Yet there was no time to dwell as intruders circled him.

"Oh, my God!" You whimpered, bodies left in growing pools of blood; your dress dragging in the tacky substance to paint abstract swirls on the shining floor; trying to avoid being swept up in the streams of panicking people. Your name was barked, another hand grabbing you, but this time, it was Lemon - sprayed in enemy blood.

"C'mon, doll, I got'cha!" He promised, being engaged by another robber. You sobbed in shock when an arm caught you in a headlock and forcefully drug you backwards; heeled feet scrambling in an attempt to keep up and avoid falling over.

"Lemon! Please! Fuck's sake!"

Breathing was hard to do in a headlock, dancing black spots blurring your vision slowly and your heart hammering in fear. A machine gun sounded again. The bicep tightened, dramatically limiting air.

"Fuckin' get off her, arsehole!" Recognizing Aaron's voice was a sheer relief, gasping for air when the arm constricted around your neck released suddenly. However, the momentum made you stumble to the ground at the same time for the goon's dead body to drop right next to you. His wide, dead eyes stared unseeingly at you, forcing a shiver down your spine and for your stomach to knot.

"Jesus Christ, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God," you panted, scrambling when blood spread closer.

"C'mon, love, c'mere, c'mere," Tangerine grunted, hauling you to your feet and protectively keeping you to his side. Being in front of you now, you could note the blood on his button up, how the robber's own punches had bruised and bloodied his face; figuring you looked somewhat similar. "Right, listen please, need yah t'do somethin' for me, love," he kept a sharp eye out for other threats as he tugged up one of his trouser legs. He pulled out the gun strapped in the holster, handing it to you with the instruction, "Shoot first, answers later. Yeah? Hey?"

You nodded and accepted the weapon, unlocking the safety. "I have to find Mum and Oisín," you worried, men and women screaming as the brutal fight continued.

"Just stay close, love, 's fuckin' madhouse - FUCK!" He snapped, aiming and firing at a man racing for you two. "C'mon, we gotta move, gotta get you out of here - right to the fuck now - "

Your gun sounded, Tangerine watching another robber drop only feet away. He pushed you through the people, both with your heads on a swivel; working in tandem to clear the banquet hall of robbers and direct survivors to get out. Your curly-haired boyfriend held one of the robbers by the neck and repeatedly punching his face into a pulp after the other man had attempted to snatch you, too.

Nobody came remotely close to you again, not when Tangerine was on guard; protecting you, defending you, killing for you. The skin on his bare knuckles had split open, but Tangerine didn't even notice; he just moved on to the next threat.

Soon, the gunfire ceased, leaving a ringing in survivor's ears, and after a quick look around the room, Tangerine confirmed the threats were all eliminated - but so were several guests of the charity gala.

You gasped in guilt, hand slapping over your mouth when you nearly tripped over Lisa's body; bullet holes shredding her flesh.

"Bruv," Lemon panted, approaching the two of you and making Tan flinch. "Woah, hey, easy, 's just me," he held his hands up, your lover sighing in relief and keeping you sheltered behind him. "You two good?" Brian asked, sheen of sweat coating his skin.

"You hit, love? Hey?" Tangerine looked down at you, keeping one arm around you and his body at a protective angle. "Shit, your face - your fucking face, sweetheart, look at me, look at me, lemme see," he frowned, holstering his gun to take both your cheeks in his hands and look for other injury.

"I'm okay, promise I'm not hurt," you panted, hands trembling. "Are you two?"

"I'm good," he nodded, eyeing Lemon. "Yeah?"

"Good, yeah, I'm good," Brian confirmed, "but I got some bad news. Looks like they got the banker. I can't tell if they made off with the money or not."

"They couldn't've, we only accepted checks tonight," you explained. "No cash, no assets to steal."

"Take it that's not public knowledge," Lemon sighed. "Probably thought they could rob y'all blind in one move, thinkin' tonight would have cash donations."

You sniffled, "You seen my family?"

"Uh," Lemon looked around, nodding, "yeah, your dad's over there."

Peering around Tangerine's form, you located your father slowly stalking around the room; taking note of the dead bodies left behind, survivors clearing out into the hallways. Fallon made his way up to you three, your voice trembling, "Daddy? You all right? Where's Mum and Oisín?"

"They're safe, with the paramedics," he reported, instantly taking you in his embrace. "Ah, fuck, lost sight of yah in this mess, had me worried, girl."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah," he whispered, caressing the back of your head, "don't apologize, you ain't do nothin'." He took a breath, keeping you caressed to his shoulder, "Gotta admit, felt a helluva lot better knowin' your man had your six." You pulled back slowly, watching your father sigh and nod at the Twins, admitting, "Thank you for protectin' my daughter, don't know how t'repay yah."

"Wasn't nothin' to it, sir," Tangerine assured, adjusting his suit jacket, "just wanted to protect my woman."

"I saw," he nodded. "You boys okay?"

"Yes, sir," Lemon nodded, Tangerine doing the same.

"Very good... Then I think I owe you an apology," your father told Tan, shocking you - not knowing the last time you ever heard you father admit to an apology.

"Not necessary, sir, I understand," Tan deflected, skin glistening in a thin sheen of sweat, blood dabbed around from the robber's fists, "I'm just relieved your family's safe."

"No, listen, I was wrong," Fallon admitted, "sayin' all that shit to you - about you. You know, makin' my assumptions, goin' based on rumors. You've got a bit of a reputation, I was just tryna protect my daughter from gettin' her heart broke." He sighed, shaking his head, "Can protect her from damn near everything - except the complications of her own heart; the woes of a relationship."

"I understand, sir."

"But seein' you tonight, fightin' for her, fightin' to get back to her... I was wrong," Fallon sighed, offering his hand. When Tan shook it, your father offered, "For what it's worth, you've got my permission to... Continue whatever this is. Any lad willing t'put themselves in harms way for my girl is all right in my books."

"I appreciate that," Tangerine sniffled, meeting your eye and smirking slightly. "Your daughter means a lot t'me, swear I won't make yah regret givin' us your approval."

Fallon sighed, nodding, "Yeah, all right, good. 'Cause she's precious to me, you know? I'll fuckin' gut you if you hurt her."

"I believe it," Tan sighed, a single twinge of nervousness to his tone, "but you don't gotta worry, sir, right, 'cause last thing I want is t'hurt the woman I love. She's precious to me, too."

"Right, good, uh, well... Thank you, both, for helping tonight. Would've been a fuckin' bloodbath without yah."

You frowned, gazing around the marble floors, "Still a bloodbath, ain't it? Half our men are dead, several investors... Daddy, who the fuck were these men?"

"That's what I'm gonna find out," he growled, his surviving personnel taking note of the event-room-turned-battlefield, slowly starting to move bodies. Little known fact: the hotel had an industrial size furnace in the boiler room - somewhere your father could burn bodies without the police being tipped off.

"Th-They said something about a ransom," you told the trio in a trembling tone, "about ransoming me back to you, Daddy. Said you wouldn't pay if I was injured, so they shouldn't rough me up."

"Hey," Tan whispered, pulling you into his side securely, "don't gotta worry 'bout that - know there's nowhere for anyone to hide you that I wouldn't find."

Fallon actually liked that sentiment, watching you nod and for your lover to hold you securely and placing a kiss to your forehead. So, he asked, knowing the answer, "Can I trust you to take care of my daughter, lad?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't make me regret this."

"Not in this lifetime, sir."

"Good. I'll find you lot in the mornin', get gone."

After a brief reunion with your mother and brother, learning they were uninjured and safe, you boyfriend finally opened the door to the hotel room you two had been assigned. Lemon was right next door, and when you entered, your luggage was left on the bed for you both. It was quiet as you both cleaned up and prepared for bed; silent tears trickling down your cheeks, mind replaying the night's events over and over and over... Like a never ending nightmare.

In the shower, you sat on the floor with arms tight around your knees, Tangerine sitting with you as warm water cascaded; cocooning steam around you. Blood washed off in waves of pink, circling the drain; your boyfriend gently massaging your body with a washcloth, discovering a scattering of injury - some still open and weeping. He was forced to blink back tears when your neck revealed a significant bruise; considering it a reminder of his failure to protect you, not knowing you felt the direct opposite and knew, if he hadn't been there, things would've been much, much worse.

When you joined Aaron in bed, the silence continued. Your heads laid on plush, stark white pillows; on your sides to stare at one another with hands clasped together between you. No words were needed, no explanation or thanks necessary, neither feeling the need to speak on what happened that night. Tangerine let go of your one hand, slowly reaching out to caress your cheek and jaw, fingertip tracing soft lines; shuffling closer to rest his cut forehead on yours.

In the dark of the room, over the sounds of the humming air conditioner unit, Tangerine whispered, "I love you, doll."

"I love you, too, Aaron. Thank you for... You know, tonight... All you did."

"You being safe, in my arms, is enough thanks."

"I-I'm glad you were here."

He nodded in agreement, "So am I. Don't know what I'd of done if I wasn't - if I had t'hear about this later... If they had succeeded in snatching you. Might not have been able to forgive myself."

"Good thing we don't have to know." Your eyes danced between his, admitting, "I don't think I want t'go without you, love. I don't think I feel secure unless you're with me."

"Yeah?" He smirked slightly, "That your way of sayin' you wanna spend more time with me?"

"Might be my way of sayin' I wanna spend all my time with you," you whispered, tears glazing your eyes. "And Daddy approves, so we don't have to sneak around anymore, right?"

"Right, get yah all t'myself," Tan agreed softly. "We'll talk in the morning, sweetheart, yeah?" He stretched slightly to peck your lips, encouraging, "Get some rest, Bunny. 'S been a helluva night."

Tangerine made you feel safe, he protected you and killed for you - so while you were unsure how sleep would find you when your mind was plagued with replaying chaotic memories from that evening, you let yourself relax.

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